Please Release Me (6 page)

Grace shrugged off his hands. ‘Damned right I’m too scared.’

‘Abseiling’s not scary,’ said Peter. ‘It’s quite exhilarating, in fact. I used to do that sort of thing a lot.’

‘Really?’ said Harry. ‘Would you consider signing up to do the abseil?’

Peter shrugged. ‘I can, but where’s the challenge in a climber doing an abseil? I’d do that for fun. It’s not exactly worth sponsoring me to do that.’

Grace took a step back, wondering if she could just sidle out while Harry was distracted by Peter.

‘He’s got a point,’ Harry said, turning to her ‘I wouldn’t sponsor him. But I’d sponsor you.’

A couple of the other volunteers chimed in with their support.

‘Go on, ‘said Harry. ‘It’ll be fun.’

‘Throwing myself off a building? I don’t think so,’ said Grace.

‘It’d be a great way to raise money for the hospice …’

‘If it’s such a good idea, maybe
you
should do it?’

Harry shook his head. ‘Sadly, I can’t. Not with my back. You on the other hand, would be great. And much more photogenic than I am.’

‘I … I’ve never done anything like that before. I’d be petrified.’ The words ‘something out of you comfort zone’ floated into her mind. Was this the sort of thing Margaret was talking about? Climbing up the biggest building she knew and chucking herself off it like some sort of crazy Bond girl was pretty much as far outside her comfort zone as it got.

‘Seriously. The thing that’s scaring you is the IDEA of going over the side of building. The actual abseil itself will be amazing. Trust me,’ said Peter.

Peter’s intervention made Grace pause. She had this immediate urge to agree with him. What was wrong with her? Just because she liked him, didn’t mean she had to jump at trying to impress him. She wasn’t a teenager. Grace shook her head. ‘Still not making it sound appealing.’

‘And we’d all be there to support you,’ said Harry. ‘We’ll have a stall selling tea and cake and make up a little cheering squad for you at the bottom.’ He thrust the sponsorship form at her. ‘Go on. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us. We need the money to buy new stuff for this place.’ He gestured to the newly painted room. ‘Please?’

Grace looked around. The new paint did make the place brighter. With a few hundred pounds they could replace that sagging sofa and maybe re-upholster some of the other chairs. A quick glance at the poster that was now lying on the table showed that she’d be expected to raise at least £250. The place could certainly do with some new stuff … Grace sighed. ‘I’m not sure I can raise that much in the time left, anyway.’

‘Of course you can. We’d all be supporting you. I’ll take a spare form and take it around my work.’ Harry’s eyes were sparkling now.

‘My company will sponsor you,’ said Peter. ‘I can pledge, say a hundred quid, right now. I’ll even give you a lift there, if you like. So that you can ask me any questions about abseils that are bothering you.’

‘And,’ said Harry, giving her a meaningful look. ‘It would be really bold of you … And daring.’

A few of the others piped up their support. Maybe Peter was right. The idea of getting back out there was scarier than the actual thing. Time to do something dramatic. Grab life by the throat. Something out of her comfort zone. Peter was watching her expectantly, as though willing her to say yes. If she backed down would he think less of her? Was she really so childish that she would do something so crazy just to impress a guy? Her eyes met Peter’s. He gave her a small smile. Yes. She would.

Around her, the noise level had risen. She threw her hands up. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Fine. I’ll do it.’ The grin that Peter gave her made her feel effervescent. She took the paper off Harry, who was beaming now. ‘But you have to all sponsor me. Guilt rates, okay?’

There was a flurry of agreement and the paper was passed round so that people could put their names on the list. Grace looked up and caught Peter’s eye.

‘If this goes wrong, I’m holding you responsible.’ She pointed at him.

His eyes widened a bit with mock alarm.

‘And Harry,’ Grace added.

Harry gave her a mock bow. ‘You can. I think you’ll be great. I’m so proud of you my darling. Margaret will be too.’

By the time Peter came to visit her that day, Sally was annoyed at how late he was. She knew because she’d heard Coronation Street start and end. If he didn’t get a move on, he’d run out of visiting hours.

When he finally arrived, he sounded completely unlike his usual self. He told her he’d been helping out with the redecorating again. She still couldn’t figure out what that was all about.

‘It’s quite nice just working alongside people,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten what it was like to just do stuff and chat to people.’

Well he could have fooled her. He did nothing BUT chat when he was visiting. She supposed she should be grateful, but something was niggling her. Peter seemed different for no reason. It couldn’t just be the fact that he was talking to people that was cheering him up. She listened carefully, in case he said something that gave her a clue.

‘There’s going to be a charity abseil down the side of the new hospital tower. You know, the one where ICU is …’ He paused. ‘Anyway, Grace, she’s one of the other people volunteering today, is going to do the abseil to raise money for the hospice.’ Another pause. ‘I don’t think she’s totally happy with the idea, but I think it’s very brave of her to take up the challenge.’

It was the pauses that gave away the significance.

Sally’s attention heightened. There was something else about this woman. He’d mentioned her, and then justified having spoken to her. It had occurred to her that if
she
had been looking for a man to invest in, other women might too. In fact, she knew a few who were. Most of them were too old and witchy now to attract a man as young as Peter, but it didn’t do to get complacent.

‘And I met a potential client. He runs a logistics business and sorting out systems for him could be quite interesting,’ said Peter.

He was talking about work again. Sally stopped listening. She wanted to find out about this woman, Grace. But he didn’t mention her again. Sally could feel that there was something important happening. Perhaps Peter fancied this Grace. She would have to remember that name. She’d have to keep an eye on things. In case this Grace creature turned out to be a husband grabbing harpy.

Sitting by himself in his kitchen, Peter wondered if offering to drive Grace to the abseil had been the wisest thing to do. She was an attractive woman and they got on very well. He considered her a friend. But lately, he had been thinking of her more often than he should. Out and about in the day, he would see things that reminded him of her. Sometimes, he daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss her.

Being in a car with her for any length of time would not be a great idea. He loved Sally. He had no intention of throwing that away. He knew he couldn’t trust his own emotions these days. He probably didn’t even fancy Grace that much. It was just that he’d lost his sense of perspective. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should take his mother’s advice and go see a doctor. No. Things weren’t that bad. He could handle it.

He wondered whether he should call Harry and ask him to swap lifts. Harry was giving some other guy a lift and they’d all agreed that people driving in a state of high nerves was a bad idea. Harry had suggested that Peter might be able to help calm Grace’s fears. After all, he knew about climbing and abseiling, whereas Harry would just wind her up more.

He convinced himself that he was doing it out of friendship and common sense and not because he found Grace attractive.

He had finished having an early breakfast when there was a banging on the door. Odd. His mother didn’t usually show up until much later in the morning. Besides, she knew he was going to be out most of that day.

Frowning, he opened the front door to find a man with spiky hair and a tattoo of a starburst on the side of his neck, standing outside, brandishing a letter.

The man jabbed his finger at the letter in his hand. It had something red on the top of it. ‘Where’s Sally Cummings? I need to talk to her.’

‘She’s … not here. I’m her husband.’

‘Well where is she? Tell her we’re not having this. We’ve had the bloody bailiffs round again, threatening to take our stuff away. I told them she didn’t live there no more, but they came again anyway. Scared the crap out of my girlfriend. She’s in her third trimester you know. It’s not good to scare pregnant women like that.’

Peter put his hands up defensively. ‘Wait. Slow down. What are you talking about?’

The man shoved the letter at him. ‘We’ve been getting these for ages. We kept sending them back to sender. Then the bailiffs started to show up. It’s taken me bloody ages to find out where she went to. I’ve had enough of this. Here. It’s your problem now. I’ll be passing this address on to the bailiffs when they next come round.’

Peter stared at him for a moment and took the letter. He had paid all of Sally’s debts off ages ago. ‘Okay. I’ll see if I can sort things out. I had no idea she owed any money to anyone.’

‘Oh.’ The man seemed surprised. The bluster seemed to drop out of him. ‘Oh, okay mate. That would be great. Er. Thank you.’

Peter smiled. ‘No problem. I hope everything goes well with the baby.’

‘Cheers. Me too.’ He took a step back. ‘I guess I’ll be off then.’

‘Bye.’ Peter retreated back into the house and shut the door. He skimmed the letter and spotted the address of the collection service. Sally has assured him that she had no more debts. Perhaps this was an old one that she had forgotten about. He scanned down to the details of when the loan was taken out and did a double take. The date was two weeks before the wedding. That was strange. By then he had paid off all of Sally’s gambling debts and if she needed money, all she would have had to do was ask. What did she need money for that was so secret she couldn’t tell him about it? Five hundred pounds.

He frowned. Perhaps she had been gambling again. An uneasy vision of the lottery ticket crossed his mind. She’d said ‘don’t you trust me’, but he’d seen the temptation in her eyes. Perhaps he had been right not to trust her.

He dismissed the thought as unworthy. Sally had been going to Gamblers Anonymous for two months before this loan was taken out. He would have known if she had a relapse. Wouldn’t he?

He sighed. It didn’t matter anyway. Sally wasn’t around to answer his questions and he didn’t have the energy to fight a legal battle. All he could do was pay the debt.

He put the letter on top of his briefcase so that he didn’t forget it and went back into the kitchen to wash up his breakfast things.

Grace waited by the window, watching for Peter. She hadn’t slept the night before and her eyes felt red and raw. She hadn’t had breakfast either, because she felt too sick. The more people talked about the abseil, the worse it got. Now, with only hours to go, she felt as though something was crawling around in her stomach. This was a bad idea. She should call and say she couldn’t do it.

She reached for the phone and hesitated. She was supposed to be moving out of her comfort zone and doing something to show herself that she could do it. Quitting now would be an admission that she couldn’t and she may as well stay trapped in her rut forever.

A car drew up outside and Peter got out. He was only helping her because he thought she was doing something brave. If it hadn’t been for this, she would never have seen him once the common room was finished. Was she only doing the abseil so that she could see Peter again? She decided she wasn’t that crazy. Depressed maybe, but not that far gone. She left the phone alone and opened the door before Peter knocked.

‘Hello. Your chauffeur, reporting for duty,’ he said.

‘I’m ready,’ she said, more to convince herself than anything else.

He stepped inside. ‘Are you okay?’

She tried to smile and managed a tight grimace. ‘I’m petrified, actually.’

He gave her a look full of concern. ‘You don’t have to do it, you know. You can always pull out. People will understand. Even Harry.’

For a split second she wanted to take him up on that. Then her pride broke through. She lifted her chin and stood up, taller. ‘I can’t back out now. I won’t let everyone down. Come on.’ She grabbed her coat and a small backpack. ‘Let’s go.’

He opened the car door for her. She got in and sat bolt upright in her seat, staring straight out of the window. She could feel the tension in her shoulders, but was powerless to do anything about it.

‘Are you sure about this?’ said Peter, when he got into the driver’s seat. ‘You really don’t look happy.’

‘I’m not.’

‘But you’re going through with it anyway?’

‘Yes.’

He pulled the car out. ‘Why? Why put yourself through something if you know you’re not going like it?’

She gave him a sidelong glare. ‘I thought you said it was going to be amazing and exhilarating.’

He looked a little sheepish. ‘I did, because I genuinely believe it is, but I hadn’t realised you had vertigo.’

‘What makes you think I have vertigo?’

He gave her a look that bordered on pity. ‘Because you look like you have.’

‘You know what? Vertigo and all the other phobias – they’re all just chemistry. I can beat chemistry. I’m not going to let my body get one over on me. I’d be an idiot to let it stop me from doing something I want to do.’

There was silence for a moment. ‘But that’s true of just about anything. You’ll break yourself if you carry on like that.’

‘Yes, well I didn’t think I could write up my PhD and look after two sick parents either. But I did it.’ It came out too sharp, as though she were snapping at him.

‘O-kay.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just a bit highly strung. Which, I should think is normal for someone who is about to throw themselves off a building.’

Peter shot her another glance. They passed a road sign with a big H written on it. The tower was visible at the other side of the site.

‘It is perfectly safe, you know,’ he said. ‘There’s a safety rope and a harness. One of the safety crew will be ready to come down after you if you get stuck. It’s all very well thought out.’

‘I know.’ She forced the words out through her clenched teeth. ‘Can we not talk about it for a minute?’

‘Okay.’ He turned into the hospital site and they drove in silence for the rest of the way.

Harry, wearing a T-shirt with the hospice logo on it, met her at the entrance to the building.

‘Hello my darling. All ready for our little adventure?’

Grace didn’t reply.

‘She’s a bit nervous,’ Peter said.

Grace shot him a glare. He raised his hands up in front of his chest as though in surrender. ‘Sorry.’ He smiled. ‘Just remember to focus on your hands and don’t look down. So long as you feed the rope steadily through your hands, all you have to do is walk backwards.’

She nodded.

‘Come along my darling.’ Harry put an arm around her and ushered her inside. He kept up a cheerful chatter all the way up in the lift, but Grace was too nervous to hear a word he said. She forced herself to concentrate on her breathing. She tried to imagine the lift was a bubble in a tranquil ocean. It didn’t work.

The topmost floor of the hospital held a nondescript lobby with wards leading off left and right.

‘This is our stop,’ Harry stepped out of the lift and waited for Grace to follow him. ‘This way.’ He led the way to a side door, set next to the lifts, that she hadn’t noticed before.

The door led to small stairwell, with concrete stairs that went upwards. A cheerful lady with a clipboard was waiting, leaning against the door. ‘Hello? Are you one of our brave abseilers? What’s your name please?’

‘Grace Guneratne.’ Her voice sounded far away, even to her. At least her heart had stopped trying to climb out through her mouth

‘That’s lovely, thank you,’ said the lady. ‘Come with me and I’ll help you get kitted up.’

‘I’ve got to leave you here, Grace.’ Harry gave her a warm hug. ‘Good luck. Enjoy it. I’ll see you at the bottom.’

Grace managed a weak smile, hugged Harry back and followed the lady in the high visibility jacket into what appeared to be a small maintenance room which had been taken over by climbing harnesses and other equipment. She was given a helmet and gloves.

Calm. She had to remain calm. The lady was talking to her, her voice level and soothing as though she were speaking to a skittish animal.

‘These go round your legs.’ She helped her into it. ‘You need it snug around you, with the chest strap—’

‘At my chest?’ She couldn’t help herself. The nerves were making her head pound. It was either sarcasm or burst into tears.

The lady glanced up, a brief flash of humour sparkled before she was serious again. ‘That’s right.’

‘Sorry.’ She stood there, her arms held out to the side, feeling awkward whilst the woman expertly threaded straps through buckles, pulling here, fastening there. Her hands moved over Grace’s body with firm purpose. It was closest physical contact she’d had in a long time. She should be finding this amusing. Or at the very least embarrassing. But there was no room for any emotion other than fear.

‘Let’s just check that that’s snug and closed.’ The woman’s voice was still calm, which was starting to feel reassuring. She clearly didn’t see anything as dangerous.

‘Ready?’ said the lady.

‘No.’

The lady laughed. ‘You all say that. You’ll be fine. It’s the ones who are too cocky that we worry about.’