Finding Grace(16)

As his wife, I was often pulled into local initiatives like the Great Litter Pick, and I helped out at least half a dozen church and school fetes throughout the year.

I didn’t mind, really. I was happy to play the good wife and I’d much rather remain in the background than the spotlight.

The waitress brought our food over. Eggs Benedict for me and a full English for Blake. She rushed back to the kitchen and reappeared thirty seconds later with my fresh orange and Blake’s tomato juice.

I’d brought half a jar of fruit puree for Oscar even though I’d fed him before we left, but he seemed more than happy bashing his tray and beaming at the other customers sitting around us.

As I began to tuck into my breakfast, Blake seamlessly recommenced his rant about rising train fares. I made sure I raised my eyebrows and nodded in all the right places.

Blake’s ambition and drive fascinated me, always had. This was partly because I was so utterly the opposite. I tended to shy away from anything that took up too much of my time, family aside: events, meetings… particularly a career.

I hadn’t always felt this way. There was a time when I was quite the academic, collecting consistently high grades in my GCSEs, then my A levels, enabling me to win a place at Newcastle University studying for a BA in accounting and finance.

My dad was so proud. He told everyone how he’d known I’d be bright right from when I was small, and that I had ambitions to open my own accountancy firm once I’d gained some experience in the field. He framed the local newspaper’s photograph of my sixth-form college graduation, where I won the annual Student of the Year award, and hung it in the hallway at home.

I hated disappointing him.

I can still remember the small, plaintive cry of despair at the end of the phone when I told him I was pulling out of university.

‘I can’t handle it, even for another single day. I’m just not cut out for it, Dad.’

It was like a grieving process for him. First came the denial, then the anger, followed by a period where he seemed really depressed, and I felt so, so guilty.

Finally, he did accept it. He really had no choice when I moved lock, stock and barrel back home. I knew it had finally sunk in when he took down my award photograph.

Dad, friends, neighbours… none of them could understand it. The local golden girl who’d showed so much promise; such a waste of talent to just throw it all away like that.

But of course that was because none of them knew the real reason why.





Eleven





‘Earth to wife,’ Blake called, looking at me quizzically. ‘Your food is getting cold, Luce.’

‘Sorry!’ I picked up my cutlery.

‘You weren’t half deep in thought there.’

‘I was just thinking about what you were saying.’ I cut another piece of toasted muffin and broke the yolk of the egg with it. ‘I don’t know how you find the energy for it all; you’re amazing.’

Blake speared a bit of sausage with his fork.

‘Couldn’t do it without my family. You three are my world, you know that.’ He popped his loaded fork into his mouth, then leaned across the table to squeeze my hand. ‘Anyway, since we have a little time alone, I wanted to run something past you.’

I nodded slowly, hoping the sinking sensation I felt inside didn’t show. More often than not when Blake wanted to talk, it was to secure my consent to help out at some event, or to agree to him taking on yet another commitment in the local community.

‘Do you fancy going on holiday, somewhere abroad, over Easter? Grace will be off school, and if I put it in my diary now, nobody can spring anything on me at the eleventh hour.’

I put down my fork. ‘Really?’

We’d holidayed in the UK for the last five years. Blake had always wanted the least fuss possible. No airports or foreign currency. We’d toured Cornwall in all weathers, camped in Wales. I had to accept he just wasn’t good at switching off and relaxing on a sunbed. So the thought of a holiday abroad sounded like heaven to me.

He grinned. ‘I take it you like the idea?’

‘I love the idea.’ I grasped his hand. ‘But how will we afford it? I know money is—’

‘Let me worry about that. I’ve had news of a bonus I didn’t know was coming; councillors sometimes get them apparently.’

A warmth spread into my chest as I realised there was a real possibility the fantasy of sunshine and sand and family time together could become a reality.

‘Grace will be so excited. Do you think Oscar will be OK on the plane?’

‘Course he will!’ Blake tickled him under the chin. ‘You’ll be absolutely fine, won’t you, little man?’

Oscar gurgled in agreement, making us both laugh.

We should come out together for breakfast more often, I thought. I felt like I’d actually got my husband back for a short time.

‘When we get back home, we can look online and decide where to go before we price some packages up. How’s that sound?’

‘Brilliant!’ I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. ‘Do you fancy Portugal? Apparently the west coast is—’

‘I hope you’re bloody well pleased with yourself!’ A strident voice cut through my sentence, and I looked to my left, where a ruddy-cheeked middle-aged woman in a waxed jacket stood, glaring at Blake.