Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

‘These are only rough ideas. I’ll need to get measurements of everything, of course. Would you like a drink?’

‘Just some water, please,’ Grace replied, studying the graph paper. There were a few simple line sketches, but on others he had gone further, drawing the entire living room so she could clearly see how his suggestions would work. It was amazing, she thought, that he had remembered so much detail after one visit. The fireplace had become the central feature of the main sitting area, while the wall between the lounge and kitchen was replaced with a bench top that could also be used as a breakfast bar.

Ben brought across a glass of water and put it down in front of her. He glanced at the papers. ‘This area is multi-functional,’ he said, tracing the detail in one of the drawings, ‘but it will make the space downstairs a lot bigger. You could leave the outer stone walls as a feature, rip out the carpet and put in a really nice wooden floor with a big rug. I’d suggest wooden floorboards for the downstairs hallway too – and then replace the carpet on the stairs with something a bit more luxurious. Rebuild the fireplace so that it’s a real feature of the living area, and get a flat-screen TV so that it doesn’t take up unnecessary room.’ He pointed to another corner of the lounge. ‘That nook there, full of books – you could also make much more of that by putting in a few decent shelves with downlights, and adding some ornaments. Fit a seat into the bay window at the front with a few cushions, and the same upstairs. Repaint the hall banister – easy – and then tile the bathroom too if you can stretch to it. The big thing upstairs is adjusting the bedrooms so that the master is at the back, with the better view, and has en suite access. Then it’s just fixtures and fittings, and sorting out the furniture.’

Grace was trying to keep up with him as he flicked through the various sketches. After he’d finished, he looked at her.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say – this is… amazing. I can’t believe you’ve gone to so much effort and got so far with it already. I’d barely got my head around knocking down the kitchen wall!’ She beamed at him. ‘It’s brilliant! I love it, I can picture it all so well – looking at how you’ve laid it out I couldn’t fail to! I’m completely sold. When can you start? Oh god, please tell me you’re not horribly expensive.’

He laughed, a deep, rich sound Grace hadn’t heard before. ‘Don’t you want to check out some other options first?’

‘Not any more!’ Grace smiled. ‘But I really have to pay you something for all this work, so include it in your price, will you?’

‘No, I said I’d do it for free. As for the rest, I’ll work out the estimated cost for materials. Then how about a hundred pounds a day for the labour? For a full working day, I mean,’ he added. ‘This will all take a good few weeks, so I’m happy to get started as soon as possible.’

Grace was dumbfounded. ‘That sounds like an absolute bargain. I think perhaps you should take a bit of time to think about it, work it out properly.’

Ben’s face became serious again. ‘I have,’ he said. ‘That’s my price. I’m looking forward to doing it, so when do you want me to start?’

‘Well, I guess as soon as possible after New Year, if that’s all right?’ she ventured.

Ben seemed confused. ‘I thought you were keen to get on with it? It’s only the middle of December.’

Grace was taken aback. ‘Well… yes… but I assumed you and your wife would be busy over Christmas. New Year will be fine. I’ve got lots of boxes to go through anyway – you saw the state of the cellar…’

Now he appeared astounded. ‘My wife ?’

‘Oh…’ Grace floundered. ‘I… erm… Meredith told me that you and your wife lived here. And I thought I saw her this morning? The woman with the long red hair?’

His expression changed immediately to understanding. ‘No, that wasn’t my wife you saw. I think Meredith must be confused. I’m house-sitting for the owners – they’ve gone overseas for a while and they wanted someone to look after the place, what with Bess and all…’

‘Oh…’ Grace said. ‘Oh…’ Say something else , she cajoled herself. So you don’t look like an idiot .

As she searched for the words, Ben began to gather the papers together. Grace went to move her glass of water out of the way, but fumbled and sent it flying towards the drawings. In a panic she reached out and managed to tip the glass away from them, only to knock it towards herself. The water splashed the front of her coat, while the glass shattered on the tiles.

‘Oh no,’ she said, staring in dismay at the jagged slivers on the floor. In the hall, Millie began to cry. Grace looked at Ben, her cheeks blazing. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got a dustpan and brush somewhere.’

She hoped he would smile, but his face was solemn as he began searching in cupboards. Bess got to her feet, wagging her tail and looking curiously at the kitchen floor. ‘Stay, Bess,’ Ben told her sternly. Meanwhile, Millie wailed louder.

‘Sounds like you need to go,’ Ben said, and he grasped Bess’s collar and guided her out the back door. ‘I’ll clear this up in a second, after I’ve helped you out with the pushchair.’

Grace hurried down the corridor to Millie, her face ablaze with embarrassment. Ben was right behind her. He opened the front door, and helped Grace carry the pushchair down the step. When he’d finished he knelt down and smiled at Millie, stroking her cheek briefly with one hand. At his touch, Millie quietened, eventually giving him a shy smile in return. Grace watched them both in astonishment.

He straightened up as he said, ‘So, how soon do you want me to start? I could probably knock down the kitchen wall before Christmas, if you like?’

‘Really?’ To Grace, the task looked onerous, yet he talked about it as though it would be simple.

‘Can I come round in the morning and take another look at it? Check it’s not a bigger job than I think it is. But, yes, I reckon it’s manageable, if you’re prepared to live upstairs for a few days.’

Grace thought about it for a moment. This was decision time. Her last chance to run away, before she made a proper start on things – before she got other people involved, and so had to see it through. Then she felt the courage she had been cultivating for the last year rising firmly above her fear, and she smiled at Ben and said, both to him and to herself, ‘Right, then. Let’s get on with it.’

That night, after Millie was safely tucked up in bed, Grace carried one of the boxes from the attic down the stairs, set it in the middle of the lounge, and kneeled on the floor in front of it. Opening the lid, she began plucking a few things from the top at random.

Out came clothes. Old-style blouses, a couple of dresses, a christening gown.

To begin with she handled things carefully, one at a time, but after a while she stood up, heaved the box onto its side and then over, spilling all the contents onto the floor. Then she picked through the mound in front of her, examining each item before putting everything except the christening gown back into the box they had come from. After she had finished, she found a pen in her bag and wrote ‘Charity’ on the lid.

One down – in half an hour. Why had she avoided this for so long? she asked herself, and went to get the next box.

This one contained books. She pulled out the top layer until she could heft the box over again, and then tipped it upside down, searching through, glancing at titles and authors. There weren’t many names she recognised, and they all looked dated. Besides, she didn’t need any extra reading when there was a bookshelf of classics upstairs. She put one or two aside, and began to pile the rest back into the box.