Please Release Me (18 page)

She twisted in her seat and checked all around. Sally had disappeared. She was probably already somewhere miles away. Grace pulled out her phone and dialled Peter.

‘Grace?’ He sounded surprised to hear from her.

‘Peter, I think Sally knows … about us.’

‘What do you mean?’

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘I think she knows.’

There was silence from the other end of the line. ‘Grace …’

‘I’m not making this up …’ She suddenly realised how mad it sounded. What possible reason did Sally have to suspect anything? Was she letting her conscience run away with her?

‘Has … she been to Fredrino’s before?’ She knew what she was asking. Although Peter had mentioned Grace’s problem to her they had never really discussed it. It was clearly a sensitive subject.

‘No. She won’t have.’ His reply was quick and firm.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. It opened a couple of weeks before the wedding. She started going to the GA meetings a few weeks beforehand. It’s the one casino I can be sure she hasn’t been to.’

‘Oh.’ Grace felt some of the tension in her release a bit. Even if Sally knew where the party was, she wouldn’t be able to go there. ‘That’s okay then.’

‘Grace, are you alright? You sound a bit strung out.’

Grace looked in the rear view mirror and was relieved to see no flash of white. ‘I am a bit,’ she admitted. ‘I think it’s just nerves. I haven’t been out socially for a long time.’

‘Me either,’ said Peter. ‘Unless you count meeting a bunch of people who volunteer to clean a hospice socialising.’

‘You mean it isn’t?’

It was a weak attempt at humour, but it made Peter chuckle. ‘I guess it is,’ he said. ‘Is Sally bothering you?’

‘No. Not really. I mean, she’s been hanging around my house and generally mooching about, but she’s no trouble really.’

‘I think she’s been around here a lot too. I keep turning the heating on because I’m so cold and then a few minutes later, the house is boiling because she’s left. It’s making me have a permanent sore throat. I hate not knowing whether she’s there or not. I wish I could see her.’

Of course he did. She was his wife. Whatever had happened between him and Grace, Sally was still the one he loved. Grace felt her heart settling inside her like a lump of lead. Peter was never going to be hers. She would always be the one that wasn’t quite good enough to replace Sally. She touched the space where her hair used to be and was surprised to find nothing there.

‘Grace? Are you still there?’

‘Yes. I should get back to work,’ she said.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow night then. Bye.’

‘Bye.’ After he hung up, she sat for a moment, staring at the phone. She was torn between aching to see him and feeling the terrible loss of not being able to touch him. She sighed again and pushed her phone back into her handbag.

The upstairs rooms of Fredrino’s casino were a sort of mezzanine, where the main open area overlooked the casino floor below. Peter looked around at the very modern décor with the glass and chrome balcony railings and the alcoves containing small Greek statues. The place was glamorous, but had no charm whatsoever.

The party was filling up slowly. He spotted some familiar faces from helping redecorate the common room. From across the way, Harry waved to him. He grabbed a drink. The last time he’d been at one of these things, he’d had Sally on his arm. It felt weird being there by himself.

He had walked through the main casino floor on his way up, past the sad punters and the early birds who were loosening their suit collars and putting up their money already. What attracted them? What made someone like Sally get sucked into this sort of place? She was bright and cheery and … he stopped mid thought. But was she really like that? That was the Sally he thought he knew. The real Sally lied to him. Not just about big things like the death of her mother or a debt, but about the little things too. How much of what she said could he really believe? He didn’t even know her favourite flower anymore.

He looked around for Grace. He had been thinking about her a lot. It was strange to think that Sally was still around. Weirder still, she was talking to Grace. Which meant that Sally and Grace were friends. Women talked about all sorts of things. What had Sally told Grace about him?

It worried him that he was more bothered about what Grace thought of him than about Sally. He felt guilty as hell. He had never considered himself the sort to cheat. Then again, he’d never considered himself an easy target either. Sally had betrayed his trust, but it didn’t mean it was right for him to betray hers. He sighed. At least in this casino, he knew Sally wasn’t there.

He thought of Sally, sitting on their bed, looking so small and vulnerable, confessing about her addiction. She couldn’t have been acting then. She just couldn’t. He believed that she had been telling the truth when she told him she wanted to stop gambling. That loan must have been her last. Perhaps she forgot to tell him about it. Or maybe she had used it to buy him a present. Or perhaps she was even meaning to pay it off. It must have been a mistake.

He spotted Harry and started to wave, but Harry’s attention was on something behind him. Peter turned around. And the world paled. Grace walked into the room. She was wearing some sort of Asian floaty outfit, which made it look like she was gliding. The deep orange of her clothes which made her glow as though she were made of gold. Her hair. Her hair was gone. For a moment Peter felt the plunge of disappointment. Her beautiful, silky hair! Almost instantly, he realised that, where Grace had been attractive before, she was now stunning. The boyish haircut accentuated her graceful neck and high cheekbones. Her eyes looked incredible.

As he stood there, staring at her, she spotted him and smiled. He almost stopped breathing.

‘Hi,’ she said.

It took a few seconds for him to gather his wits enough to speak. Grace mistook his surprise. ‘It is a bit drastic, isn’t it?’ She ran a hand on her neck. ‘I haven’t got used to it yet.’

‘You look amazing,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’ She flushed a little and looked sheepish. There was a moment of awkwardness when he wasn’t sure how to greet her. He couldn’t very well give her a peck on the cheek. In the end they shook hands.

‘Oh my god, my darling you look incredible.’ Harry swooped down on Grace. ‘That hair style really suits you.’ He kissed her on the cheek and fussed over her.

Peter stepped back and let Harry escort Grace further into the room and introduce her to people. He had to be careful. He couldn’t afford to lose control with Grace again. A one-off incident when he thought Sally was dying was one thing, doing it again when he knew Sally was alive in some way was completely another. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to touch Grace again. The trouble was, he didn’t trust himself to be able to resist.

Sally stared at Peter’s post, lying open in a heap on the kitchen table. The corner of one poked out, gilded and looking like a ticket for something. Probably the ticket to the fundraiser he was at right now. The one that Grace was going to. Sally wasn’t fooled for a minute about Grace’s claim not to know where the place was. She knew alright. She just wasn’t telling Sally because she was afraid she’d turn up. She had flitted through all the usual party places she could think of, but they weren’t there. It sounded like a big enough event that the hospice committee would have chosen a biggish venue. But where?

If only she could move that letter lying on top of the ticket, obscuring the details. Sally glared at it. If only she could just … She took a swipe at it. Nothing happened.

‘Ugh.’ She looked around to see if there was anything she could use. Anything … Nothing.

The only way she was going to see any more was if Diane came and started tidying up. Even the prospect of information wasn’t enough to make her wish Diane in her kitchen. She plonked down into a chair.

She knew,
knew
, that Grace had kissed Peter before. Judging by the rush of arousal that had flooded Grace’s system the minute their lips touched, she’d done more than just kiss him. Sally recalled the intensity of the body’s response. Grace’s response, she reminded herself. By the time Peter’s lips made contact Sally had no longer been in charge.

The thought that Grace had been anywhere around Peter,
her
Peter, made Sally furious. She felt it inside her boiling her up like a fever. The thing that made it so much worse, was that she had felt everything twinge in Grace’s body in response to that small kiss. And she’d realised that her own body had never responded to Peter like that.

Anger rolled, higher and higher until she lunged at the pile of paper with a furious scream. The papers flew off the table and landed on the floor. Sally stared, anger forgotten. Had she really just done that?

She rushed through the table and crouched on the floor. There was only one ticket. It was a fundraiser for the hospice. Yes! It was to be held at … the top floor at the Fredrino’s. Sally grinned. Fredrino’s. The casino.

Sally grinned. She would be there. If Grace tried anything on with Peter, she would know how to take care of it.

Now, all she had to do was figure out how she’d moved those papers.

Grace looked out over the people swarming around the roulette tables. She watched the collective intake of breath and straining forward as the wheel spun round. The ripple of disappointment that followed the ball landing was broken by one woman shouting ‘Yesss!’ and punching the air. The man standing next to her rubbed his hands together as the croupier pushed chips in his direction. As Grace watched, they exchanged a glance before pushing most of the chips back out again. The possibility of stopping while they were winning never even occurred to them.

She didn’t really understand what drove these people and she wasn’t really interested. They were, however, a welcome distraction from the party behind her. It had been a struggle to stop herself from glancing over at Peter during the meal. Wherever he was, it was as though they were connected by an invisible thread. Yet he had been cool towards her. She could understand that. When he kissed her he had thought that his wife was as good as dead. Now that Sally was back, in a way, his feelings were bound to have changed. Grace wasn’t sure what she’d expected from this evening, but it wasn’t shaping up to be a huge bundle of laughs.

There was a movement next to her. Peter leaned his elbows against the railing. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

‘Enjoying yourself?’

Grace smiled. ‘Yes. Thanks. I don’t go out that often, it’s weird … but in a good way.’

She reached up to push back her hair, only to realise it wasn’t there any more. Her fingers brushed her neck and she felt silly.

‘Missing your hair?’ said Peter. ‘It really suits you short, you know.’

‘Thanks.’ She fiddled with a short tendril. ‘It was Sally’s idea. She said it would look better short. Although, I don’t think she meant quite this short. I got a bit carried away.’

‘Does Sally follow you around all the time?’ Peter’s voice lost momentum towards the end of the sentence. He was still watching her fingers tease her hair. There was something intense about the way he was watching her.

Grace suddenly felt hot. She dropped her hand back onto the railing. It felt reassuringly cold. ‘Not all the time. Just most of the time.’

Peter seemed to come back to the present and glanced over his shoulder. ‘It is fairly liberating knowing that she’s not here. I feel really tense at home wondering if she’s watching me.’

‘I thought you could tell.’

‘Sometimes I can. It’s almost worse when I can’t because I’m not sure if she’s not there, or if she’s just in another room. It’s a bit … stalky.’

‘It must be weird not being able to see her. At least I can see and hear who’s in the room.’ Below her there was another shout of triumph as the gambler’s luck held. Grace glanced down at the crowd, which had grown larger as people came to share the excitement.

Grace could see the excitement ripple through the crowd. They leaned closer, straining to join in and be touched by the good fortune of those winning. Looking at those hungry faces, Grace wondered if Peter’s faith in Sally was justified. Sally had shown herself to be an accomplished liar. How could Peter be so sure?

As though reading her mind, Peter said, ‘Sally swore on our love that she was quitting and she signed up from Gamblers Anonymous straight away. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t even have to tell me, but she did. She made a solemn promise to me. No matter what went before that, I believe in her promise.’ He sounded distant, as though his mind was elsewhere.

Grace glanced across. Peter’s mouth was set in a hard line. He needed to believe in that. She remembered him saying her last words to him had been ‘don’t you trust me’. He needed to trust her. To have trusted her before the accident.

She nodded. ‘Okay. Well, I haven’t seen her all evening.’

Peter nodded, his mouth still set firmly.

It was time to change the subject. ‘So, do you know many of the people here?’

‘Not really, just the people who were there doing the painting. And you and Harry, obviously.’ Peter blew out his cheeks and made a visible effort of relax.

‘Harry’s had a bit to drink, I think,’ said Grace. She looked away. Harry had been quizzing her about Peter, trying to work out what to report back to Margaret, no doubt. He had seemed to think they were an item. Grace had her work cut out to persuade him that there was nothing going on. If only there were. She sighed.

‘Was he giving you a hard time?’ said Peter. ‘About being friends with me.’

‘We’re friends. I guess it’s understandable that they think we’re … you know … together,’ she said, still avoiding looking at him.

Peter drew a sharp breath. ‘Grace …’ She felt the leaden weight of her heart sink a bit more. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, it couldn’t be anything that would make her feel better. But she couldn’t bring herself to move away. Just to hear him say her name was something special. How pathetic to want someone that much. It was all just chemistry, she told herself. Glands and chemicals. That’s all it was.

When she didn’t look at him, Peter touched her hand. ‘I wish things could be different. Grace, look at me.’

The glands and chemicals were making her feel wretched. Her heart squeezed in her chest. She blinked back tears. She had been longing to be near him all evening and now the proximity of him was unbearable. She had thought it was difficult being near Peter when Sally was there, but now, without her to keep them apart, it was infinitely worse.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. She reached up to wipe away a tear that had escaped. Peter pulled a paper napkin out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘Thanks.’ She dabbed the tear away.

‘Keep it,’ he said when she offered it back. ‘I’ve got another.’

Grace forced a laugh, even though her heart was breaking. ‘I won’t ask why.’

Peter scrutinised her face. ‘Are you okay?’

She tried to make light of it. ‘Serves me right. Hanging out with a married man.’

He smiled, but his eyes didn’t seem to get the message. ‘Yes. Let’s face it, he’s never going to leave his wife.’

It wasn’t funny. Neither of them was laughing. Peter’s smile gave up the struggle and disappeared. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Even if I wanted to. And I do … want to.’ His hand rested next to hers on the rail, the wedding band glinting in the lights from the casino. ‘It was bad enough when I thought she was gone. But now… she’s my wife. I loved her once. And … I don’t know if she’s alive or dead. I need to work out where I am.’ He looked up. ‘I’m so sorry.’

His eyes looked straight into hers and the wretchedness in them wrung Grace’s heart. She and Sally were tearing him apart between them. Next to that, her own agony seemed small and overblown.

‘If only there was something we could do. Get her back with her body. Maybe bring her back.’ If Sally came back, she would never see Peter again, but he could be happy. He wanted to stay with his wife. He clearly felt terrible about what almost happened between them. And, thinking about it, she wouldn’t want it any other way.

Peter shrugged one shoulder. ‘But we can’t.’

She put her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. ‘No. We can’t.’

Peter turned his hand over so that their fingers interlaced. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, again.

‘I know.’

They stood together, hands resting together on the banister. This was a goodbye, of sorts. It was all Grace could do not to put her face on his shoulder and cry. She understood, she really did, but it didn’t make the hurt any easier to bear. Peter’s fingers uncurled from around her hand and she knew that the fragile contact between them had to break.

Suddenly, there was a chill at her back. Sally’s voice said, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’