‘Yeah, yeah. Got an allergy, you know.’ Lewis stumbled out onto the pavement and handed a twenty-pound note through the half-open window. ‘Keep the change.’
‘Thanks, mate.’ The cabbie put his thumb up. ‘And women, eh? They’re not worth it, most of ’em, you know that.’
Thinking that Gracie wasn’t most of them, Lewis forced a lopsided smile. That woman, she was one in a million.
He clambered up the stairs and put his key as quietly as he could in the door. He undressed in the lounge and quickly hand-held the shower over himself. He’d never had to do anything like this before and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
He crept into the bedroom and put his hand over his mouth. For there was Gracie, fast asleep, spread-eagled on top of the covers, wearing the underwear he had always adored her in. The bedside light was still on and an empty bottle of wine lay on the floor. Her make-up was perfect, apart from the tracks of her tears down the middle of her cheeks.
Never before had he realised just how much he loved her.
NINE
Gracie woke with a start. In her drunken stupor she had forgotten to set her alarm. She was surprised that Lewis hadn’t woken her. She put her hand to his side of the bed. It was cold. She quickly checked her phone. Nothing. Groaning, she walked to the kitchen, still in full underwear regalia, to flick the kettle on. She glanced at the clock. Luckily it was only seven, so she wouldn’t be late for work. Although the way she was feeling, she was quite tempted to ring in sick.
There was a note by the kettle.
Gigi, get yourself dolled up tonight, for we shall wine, dine & 69XX
Then in brackets:
(Sorry, got pissed after football and slept on sofa so as not to wake you.)
‘Aw,’ Gracie said aloud and got on with making her tea. He hadn’t called her Gigi for months. She found she wasn’t even cross now about him being late last night. By the time she had finished getting ready, she had downed a whole bottle of wine on an empty stomach, had cried her eyes out to her sister on the phone, and had crashed out by nine. She’d have been fit for nothing anyway by the time he’d got in after the pub had closed. The pleasure had been in making an effort. In making herself feel good.
She got back into bed and thought of Lewis. His note was so sweet. He was thinking of her, for once. Maybe the outburst the other nighthadcleared the air? He would have talked to Connor that night and chatted to his other mates after football practice. Maybe they had helped him through it. As a couple they had never been very good at communicating. Hopefully now they could emerge from the smog of grief and work things out.
They had met, bizarrely, at the bar during a Coldplay concert. If love at first sight was a thing, then she was sure they had experienced it. She thought back to the time that they first had sex, on their first date following the concert. They had met for a drink in Soho and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The lust was so great that she saw no point in waiting. Sod all that ‘will he respect you in the morning’ malarkey. Lewis took her back to the house he shared in Brixton that Friday night and they didn’t make it out of bed until the Sunday lunchtime. Seven years on they were still together.
She bit her lip, feeling something she hadn’t felt in a long while. She texted Lewis.
69, you say? I take it that means times?
TEN
Ping. Gracie heard a message land in her phone as she sat down at her desk. She smiled, thinking it would be Lewis’s reply. Instead it was Annalize.
Gracie – hungover. Throwing up! Can you cover for me if the walrus is in please?
Gracie replied:
Only if you promise to get me a bacon roll on the way in. With ketchup. Thanks!
Ta! Might even get one myself.
Gracie thought it must be some level of hangover if Madame Perfect was considering letting a crumb of carbohydrate pass her immaculately glossed lips.
Rob Warhurst scurried in with a huge smile on his grey-bearded face and his ‘Lemon Aid’ branded backpack on as usual.
‘Morning, Gracie. Wow, you’re looking lovely today.’
‘Thanks. I haven’t done anything different.’
‘Well, your face has a little glow to it, something I haven’t seen for a while.’
‘It’s probably too much wine last night,’ Gracie laughed. ‘What’s in your bag today, then?’
‘You just wait. It’s a new gadget. Actually, I have two that I want to show you. An apple corer and peeler and a pasta basher. Both amazing!’
