Sara Foster - Beneath the Shadows

Grace pushed the lounge door open with a bang and saw Annabel’s shock turn to dismay. ‘Zoe, I’ll have to call you back,’ she said, and hung up. She came across. ‘Look, Grace, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean…’

‘No one is forcing you to stay,’ Grace told her grimly. ‘Why don’t you go if you hate it that much?’

‘What is your problem, Grace? I’m not leaving you…’

‘Annabel, I’m thirty-two, I don’t need a sodding babysitter, thank you. Just go. If that’s how you really feel then I’m probably better off without you.’

Annabel’s temper snapped. ‘Oh, is that so? Fine. If I’m not needed then I’ll get my things,’ she said, and barged past Grace, running up the stairs.

Grace set Millie in her high chair and went to the cupboard, ignoring her unsteady fingers as she collected a jar of food. She was watching Millie eat when she heard her sister clomping down the stairs, her case bumping behind her.

Annabel’s flustered face appeared in the doorway. ‘You’re right, Grace. We need a break from each other. Otherwise you’re going to drive me crazy as well as yourself.’

As Annabel headed for the front door, Grace’s anger disappeared, leaving fear in its stead. ‘I’m sorry, Annabel,’ she said. ‘It’s just – you didn’t write the word LEAVE on my car, did you? As a joke?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Annabel stopped and faced her. Grace saw her sister’s alarmed expression, and faltered.

What was the point in explaining? Annabel would only tell her that it was another reason to get away from this place.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

Annabel shook her head, flung open the door and began dragging her case down the path.

Grace tried to tell herself that this was a good thing – it was time to stand on her own two feet, and with everyone gone she could get on. But when she heard Annabel start her engine, she ran out of the cottage towards the garden gate. The little red car had already zoomed off down the road, and Grace used all her willpower to keep herself from running after it and screaming for it to stop. Instead she stood motionless, holding her breath until the noise of the engine had completely faded away.

They were alone.

She looked up at the cottage. It stared at her obliquely, its windows blank eyes. She steeled herself, straightening her posture, and headed inside. She would get through the rest of the work as fast as she could. Once it was done, life would unfold before her again, and she would remember all this as a very small part of her history. She would never have to look back.

Grace lay awake for much of the night, wishing Annabel had come back, while telling herself over and over that she was doing the right thing by staying. She flinched at every strange noise she didn’t recognise, however slight. Thankfully, the clock ticked steadily, but there was definitely some scratching going on in the wardrobe. It sounded like a mouse, but there was no way she would be investigating. Finally, she dozed until the day broke and Millie woke up.

She was tremendously tired that morning. She felt like the air was treacly, slowing her down – everything taking twice as long as it usually did.

She was still in her pyjamas when Ben knocked on the door. She answered it, resigned to him seeing her like this, and straight away his face conveyed his concern.

‘Grace… what’s happened?’

‘Nothing… It’s just that everyone’s gone and it all seems a bit daunting.’

‘You look exhausted.’ He came in and set his toolbox down near where Millie was playing. Millie crawled over and tried to open it.

Ben kneeled down next to her. ‘Hmmm… not sure you’re ready to help me out yet… But what have you been doing here, Millie?’ He indicated the blocks spread out over the floor. ‘Shall we give your mum a hand and put these away?’

Grace sat down on the sofa and watched the two of them together. When Millie began to take blocks back out of the bag, Ben built her a tower, and she gleefully knocked it down. Grace leaned back, and her head began to drift.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up. Disorientated, a surge of panic rushed over her as she opened her eyes. In front of her, Millie was strapped into her high chair, with Ben feeding her a sandwich.

Ben registered her movement and looked across, seeing her alarm. ‘It’s okay, Grace, you fell asleep,’ he said. ‘You’ve been out for the count. I decided I’d leave you to it, though to be honest I don’t think an elephant stampede through the lounge would have woken you.’

Relief flooded over her. She felt momentarily weepy, but pulled herself together as she sat up. Millie held up her sandwich to show Grace.

‘Thank you so much,’ she said to Ben. ‘It’s a rare treat to have a morning nap.’

‘I can imagine,’ Ben replied. ‘And you’re welcome. Any time.’

‘Don’t say that unless you mean it,’ Grace laughed. ‘I might take you up on it.’

‘I do mean it, Grace.’ He held her gaze.

Grace felt compelled to break the protracted silence that followed. ‘I had a fall-out with Annabel,’ she confided, finding herself glad to talk to someone. ‘And she left while she was angry with me. We don’t usually fight, not seriously…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ben reassured her. ‘My sisters argue all the time – always have. There’s invariably some sort of upset going on in my family. Of course, I’ve been on the outside for a long time now, but from what I can gather it still goes on. Everyone is so stubborn – they insist on blaming each other for their problems, so one drama gets replaced by another.’

‘I gather you haven’t seen your mum yet?’ Grace asked gently.

Ben grimaced. ‘Unless she meets me halfway, nothing will ever change.’

‘Have you tried to talk to her, or does she just know that you’re here?’

‘Claire’s been acting as a go-between so far,’ he admitted.

‘Perhaps you should cut Claire out and try speaking to her yourself,’ Grace suggested as she got up from the sofa.

‘You don’t know my mother.’

‘Actually, I do a little bit – and she’s pretty formidable. But what choice does she have if you confront her – she has to listen, surely. And there must be a part of her that is longing to see you.’

‘Perhaps…’ Ben didn’t look convinced, but he sat there in silence for a while, thinking. ‘Maybe I’m still not sure whether I want to see her…’

Grace waited for him to continue, but he added nothing further. She collected some yoghurt from the fridge, and offered Millie a few spoonfuls, before she said, ‘Ben… can I ask you a favour?’

‘Of course.’

‘I feel a bit of a wimp saying this, but catching mice is not my forte. Can you set a trap for me upstairs, and then check it tomorrow? One of those humane ones…’

Ben smiled at her. ‘I think I can manage that – although do you have the trap already?’

She shook her head.

‘Then I don’t know where you’ll find one round here. Not many care about seeing the mice live… But I’ll tell you what, I’ll try to make something if you like.’ He contemplated the idea for a moment. ‘I’ll need a plastic box or bowl, at least five centimetres high, then something like a nail file or a cocktail stick…’

An hour later, the homemade trap was ready to go. Grace had run about finding materials, then looked on in admiration as Ben had constructed it. He lifted it carefully and they headed upstairs to her bedroom. Grace set Millie on the bed.

‘I think it’s somewhere in here,’ she said, opening the door of the built-in wardrobe.