Finding Grace(29)

Something about the look on her face stops me in my tracks and I step back as she opens the front door.

The press are wild, like a bunch of animals. Dad says a few words to them but it only seems to make them hungry for more. Fortunately, they step back when Fiona arrives, taking Oscar from Dad’s arms, together with his changing bag.

‘Is this Grace’s brother? Has he hurt his head?’

‘Did your granddaughter often walk home alone?’

‘Did you have any concerns over the care of your grandchildren?’

The short, accusing questions don’t stop during Dad’s slow progress up the path. Fiona follows him, offering a buffer from the unwelcome attention.

When Dad steps inside the hall and holds out his arms to me, his face is grey. I bury my face in his shoulder and he wraps me up tight like he’d do when I was a kid and would get upset that other kids had a mum and I didn’t.

I listen to the rasp of his laboured breathing and I start to sob.





Nineteen





When I met Blake, I was already over the full-blown agoraphobia I’d been suffering from, thanks to two years of therapy that had helped me immensely.

I was no longer housebound, and although I still preferred not to go out alone, I could function; make the journey to and from work and other necessary trips.

It was only a part-time position as an events coordinator for a big hotel on the outskirts of town, but it got me interacting with people again. It was a struggle at first, and I used to dread going in each day, but gradually it started to get a little easier.

I learned that although my body was displaying all the signs of genuine panic – increased heart rate, burning cheeks, dry mouth – if I pushed through that and told myself the fear wasn’t real, it was just anxiety, I could still do my job and do it well.

Still, although it might get easier, it never fully leaves you. The fear, I mean. To this day, my first reaction is to avoid very crowded or busy spaces if I can. I still feel a little anxious when I have to go out alone, even walking Grace to and from school. Just the thought of seeing the other parents at the school gate fills me with an illogical kind of dread.

If I’m honest, it’s a big reason behind me agreeing to let Grace walk home alone from Olivia’s house. I don’t want her to end up like me, living under the shadow of what might happen. Plus, if I’m honest, I revelled in getting up Nadine’s nose when she ruled it was too soon for Grace to make the walk alone.

God, how I wish I’d listened to my mother-in-law. Just this once.

I wish, I wish… I don’t know why I’m torturing myself, because it’s too late for wishing and it’s impossible to turn the clock back.



I take Oscar from Fiona’s arms and clasp his warm, plump body close to mine, relishing his faint vanilla smell. The mark on his temple has turned a vivid dark red.

‘Looks sore. What happened?’

‘He took a tumble off the bed,’ I murmur into Oscar’s sparse fine hair when I see Fiona studying his head.

She nods. Presses her lips together.

With Dad and my baby close by, I feel more reassured and I’m beyond thankful to have them here.

Even though Dad assures me he changed Oscar before he left home, I do it anyway and then prepare to feed him. There’s an element of reassurance in this ordinary day-in, day-out routine and I crave to have it back in my life again.

‘Thanks for coming over, Dad. I know it must’ve been a massive effort to come here.’ His chest problems make all physical movement twice as taxing. ‘Blake would’ve picked you up, you know.’



‘I couldn’t just sit in the house, wondering how you were, worrying about where Grace has got to,’ Dad explains in the kitchen, sipping the tea Fiona gave him before making herself scarce. ‘I hate that house anyway.’

I pause opening Oscar’s food jar. ‘I thought you loved living there? You’ve always said you never want to move.’

Dad shrugs and purses his lips. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he says blankly. ‘Stuff like this happening, I suppose it makes you realise the importance of being near family.’

Dad’s hardly a million miles away. He lives in Colwick which is just a ten-minute drive from our house on a good journey.

I realise he looks really low and I reach over and squeeze his hand.

‘Don’t you start fretting about me, love. You’ve enough on your plate as it is.’ He presses his lips together. ‘When will Blake be back from the cop shop?’

‘Any time now,’ I say and glance at the doorway, making sure Fiona isn’t lurking. ‘I’m worried he’s keeping something from me, Dad.’

As soon as I’ve said it, I regret it. Dad’s face pales.

‘What do you mean? Something like what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe he’s got another woman.’ My effort of sounding tongue-in-cheek falls flat.

‘I’ve never heard such a load of rubbish.’ Dad huffs. ‘Blake plainly adores you.’

I loosen the lid on the food jar and stick it in the microwave for thirty seconds.

‘Even so, he obviously didn’t want to talk in front of me. That tells me there’s something he’s keeping quiet about.’