Changing Grace

  A ray of brilliant sunlight streamed through the tiny gap where the curtains didn’t quite meet. Grace rubbed her eyes as she fought to focus on her surroundings. She felt calmer and in more control than she had felt in days. The portrait still hung on the wall where she had left it last night, but the eyes of Robert Hamilton were veiled.

  She remained curious about the character of the man who had filled her life for the past week and decided to stick to her plan and spend the day at the library. However she needed to find out if Harry and Kate existed and if so, how much they had seen of her derangement.

  Grace sighed, realising the trip to the doctors would be necessary at some point but for today her old tablets had worked and she was back in control. She just had to remember that leaving Jack had not healed her. The tablets were an essential part of her life and without them she was very likely to end up institutionalised.

  George was in his usual spot behind the reception desk. He smiled and lowered his book. It was a new one. He must have finished ‘Bushfire’.

  “Morning George, sleep well?”

  “Good morning, Mrs Evans. I did thank you, not enough of it though. How about you?”

  “Actually George I did sleep well last night, thank you,” she said noticing that he was reading a different book. “I see you finished ‘Bushfire’?”

  “I did, last night. After you came in. It was gone midnight before I got to bed.”

  Grace smiled, recalling how many books had kept her awake until the small hours of the morning.

  “Tell me, George, how do you pronounce the title?” she asked, intrigued by the name on the cover of his new book.

  “The Ca-ho-kian, I think. An American customer gave it to me a few weeks ago, said I should be sure to read it.”

  “Well enjoy your new book, George and I’ll see you later.”

  She found the pub off Stonegate so that was real enough. What she didn’t know was whether Harry, existed or not. She appeared to have no way of distinguishing reality from fantasy.

  Relief swam over her as she recognised Harry behind the bar, his cheerful face one large smile. That, she thought, was the first hurdle overcome.

  Cautiously, Grace made her way towards the greying man. His eyes shone as she approached the bar, and she let out a deep sigh, realising that she had been holding her breath.

  “Grace, I have been trying to get hold of you. Kate told me what happened on Monday night. I am so sorry, girl.”

  Immediately, Grace’s heart sank as the experience of the medium came flooding back. Upset, she turned to leave but Harry rushed from behind the bar and grabbed hold of her arm.

  “Hey, girl, don’t go. Come and have a drink with an old man.”

  It would be rude to reject him and she couldn’t see the harm in it. He only existed in her imagination anyway.

  “Ok, Harry, but I’m not bothered with anything strong. May I just have a coke please?”

  “Course you can. Do you want diet or normal?”

  “Normal, please, Harry. All those sweeteners aren’t good for you.”

  “Nor is sugar,” he teased.

  She smiled and took a seat at the bar. The pub was empty, just as it had been the first time she had been there, when she had seen Robert standing behind the bar, right where Harry was now. She smiled at the thought of his dark inviting eyes, the width of his shoulders and the long length of taught toned thighs.

  “What are you smiling at girl?”

  “Oh, nothing, Harry, just a memory.”

  “Care to share it with me?”

  She shook her head. “No, not today, but I do have a message for you.”

  His eyebrows lifted in question. “A message, hey. That sounds ominous.”

  “I don’t know whether it is or not.”

  “Go on then, girl, what’s it?”

  “I’m to tell you to lift the floorboards in the small room next to the kitchen.”

  “Lift the floorboards? But why would I want to do that?”

  “I have no idea and you don’t have to do it. I’m just passing on a message.”

  “Funny thing messages.”

  “How so?”

  Harry turned to Danny.

  “Do me a favour Danny, watch the bar for me. I’ve something that needs my attention. Grace, come with me, girl. I want to show you something.”

  Grace lifted her glass from the bar and slid off the high stool. She followed Harry through the pub and into the backrooms. He led her up the stairs and into the living quarters. Groaning as he bent and pulled the portrait of her and Robert from under the bed.

  “Here, take a look at the back of the portrait.”

  Grace took the frame from him, examining the picture. It was as she had remembered it; a painting of her and Robert done some four hundred years ago.

  “I can’t see anything I haven’t already seen on this, Harry.”

  “Take a look at the back of the portrait,” he repeated.

  Grace knew what was coming. She had defaced another portrait. But what she couldn’t figure out this time was how she had managed to do it to this one. Fearfully she turned it over and read the inscription out loud.

  “Dear Harry,

  “Grace is going to come and see you on the 15th December 2011. It will be snowing outside when she arrives. (That was for Grace’s benefit as she is still convinced that she is mad). She will give you a message. Listen to her and act on it. As much for your own benefit as hers.

  “Oh and Harry, your uncle Robert says to tell you that he had no idea you were family. Between you and me he is very proud of the way you run the pub. But I worry about how much whisky you are drinking. Please make Grace a promise that you will stop drinking?

  “Your friend from beyond time,

  Grace Hamilton.”

  She wasn’t shocked. Grace was passed being shocked by anything anymore. She did agree with one sentiment from the letter however, and that was that Harry drank way too much.

  “Well, what do you think of that then?”

  “I think that I have gone crazy, Harry. You are just a figment of my imagination and I am somehow going around defacing seventeenth century portraits.”

  “I can assure you, girl, that I am as real as this here pub. As for defacing portraits, well you got me there because this certainly does sound as though you wrote it. But look at it, Grace. It’s faded so much it is almost impossible to make out the words. But they’re your words and they’re written with a modern hand and a modern pen. I would say at a guess a ballpoint.”

  She had to agree. The writing was faded and so were the words on the portrait in her room. She had neither the skill nor the knowledge to artificially age ink.

  “What do you think it all means?” she asked, wide eyed and confused.

  “Not being a genius or anything, I am going to make an educated guess. Grace you are going to go back in time.”

  The idea wasn’t foreign to her. She had repeated it to herself over the past week more times than she cared to remember. But that didn’t make it any less ridiculous.

  “Well that is all fine and dandy as an idea and it’s not a bad fantasy. But please tell me how I am supposed to go back in time?”

  Harry smiled and shrugged.

  “I don’t know, Grace but I do know that I was just told to listen to your message, so how’s about we shut up the pub and go lift a few floorboards.”

  “You know, Harry, I have some shopping to do, the library to go to and I would also like to get to see Kate this evening. I’m gonna leave you to it, if you don’t mind. Those boards have been down for four hundred years and I don’t think it will take you just five minutes to shift them.”

  “Right you are, girl,” he said moving to hug her. “You take care of yourself, now. Do you hear me?”

  Grace nodded and hugged the greying man back. “I’ll pop in after work tomorrow and see what you found. It’s all very exciting.”

  When Grace emerged onto Stonegate she was sh
ocked to find that the gentle snowfall of earlier had turned into quite a blizzard. She shivered and pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck. It was ten days before Christmas and the city heaved with the traditional bustle of the season. She looked up at the string of lights that adorned the street. They looked so beautiful when they came on. Christmas always took her mind back to her childhood. She supposed it must do the same for everyone. There was nothing in this world as exciting as the fantasy of Father Christmas. She sighed at the memory of how simple life had seemed back then. Children don’t question, they just blindly accepted, she thought, watching a young mother hurrying down Stonegate with her little boy’s hand tightly clutched in hers.

  The snow fell heavier as she made her way through the city, purchasing the items listed on the back of the portrait. She wondered dimly what they were for; but her mind was so far past the point of reason that she lost the thought almost as fast as she had it.

  The oversized back pack grew heavier until its weight on her back became a burden. She slung both straps over her shoulders and proceeded through the city.

  Night was falling fast and the pavements had become almost impassable with snow. Her shoes were totally unsuitable for the conditions and her feet burned with the cold. She headed away from the city and towards Kate’s house.

  Everything looked so different with a thick covering of snow on the ground. The house came into view. Grace made her way towards the door and knocked. A few moments later, Kate answered.

  “Grace! Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine. Do you mind if I come in?”

  “No, of course I don’t mind. Sorry, come in Grace. You look soaked to the skin.”

  Kate took Grace’s hand and pulled her through the door into the warmth of the hallway.

  “What on earth are you doing? No one should be out in this. Why didn’t you get a taxi? Do you want a glass of wine?”

  Grace nodded, wrapping her arms around herself trying to warm up. She moved to stand in front of the radiator, lifting her hands over the gentle heat that radiated from it. Her fingers burnt and she knew there was a reason she shouldn’t keep her hands in the heat. But her mind had forgotten that reason and the only coherent thought she could manage was that she needed to get warm.

  “Here you go, hun. Get this down you, it’s mulled wine. It’ll warm you up nicely,” she said, handing Grace a large warm glass of red wine. “I haven’t boiled it, just heated it a bit.”

  “Thanks, Kate. This is lovely,” she said, taking a sip of the warm liquid and enjoying the heat it brought to her as it slid down the back of her throat.

  “You know, Grace, don’t take this the wrong way hun, but you look dreadful. Are you still feeling rattled by that silly old bat from Monday night?”

  Grace shook her head and took another sip of the warm wine.

  “No, I’m fine, honestly. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

  “Are you still having trouble sleeping in that room?”

  “No. Honest Kate, I’m absolutely fine. As I said, just need a good night’s sleep and I’ll be good as new.”

  Grace emptied the last of the liquid from the glass.

  “Want some more?”

  “That would be nice, thanks.”

  “Fancy watching a film?” Kate asked, returning with two filled glasses.

  “I can’t. It’s getting late and the weather is dreadful. I only came for a quick chat.”

  “No worries, Grace. Anything in particular you wanted to chat about?”

  “Well actually there was. It’s about your desk, you know the one that Robert made his wife.”

  “You mean the one that he made for you?”

  “Don’t mess around, Kate. That’s just daft and we both know it.”

  “How so? You know Harry believes you are going to go back in time.”

  “Think about what you are saying. It’s not possible. No one has ever done it.”

  “No one that you know about. People go missing all the time.”

  “Yes, they do. I did it myself, but I’ve not travelled in time. I just left my husband and moved to York.”

  “I wondered what happened. Thought it might be something like that but I didn’t like to ask. Figured you would tell me when you were ready.”

  “I hadn’t intended telling anyone. I hope you will keep it to yourself, Kate. Jack is a dangerous man and I can’t risk him finding me.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, hun. I promise, I won’t tell a living soul.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No worries. But it won’t matter one day because you won’t be here anymore.”

  “There is the chance the medium was right,” she said, feeling the sick knot in her stomach tighten.

  “I don’t mean that you’re going to die, you Muppet. You’ll be four hundred years in the past. He’s hardly likely to find you there.”

  “Enough, Kate. It won’t happen.”

  “If you say so. Here, give me your glass and I’ll get us both another.”

  Grace stared as the lights on the Christmas tree flashed in her eyes. They blurred and the colours blended like a halo around the tree. She could see the hazy outline of his face forming in the glow. His eyes found her and a gentle smile spread across his face. She lifted her hand and stretched her fingers towards him.

  “I love you?” he whispered as the hazy outline of his features started to fade.

  “Here you go, Grace,” she said, handing her friend the filled glass.

  Grace took the glass from her but continued to stare, unblinking at the tree.

  “Mesmerising, aren’t they?” Kate said, sitting cross legged on the floor.

  Grace blinked and the image faded. She was suddenly aware of the sound of the wind howling against the window.

  “I’d better not be too much longer, it sounds nasty out there.”

  “You want me to call you a taxi?”

  “No, it’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Grace nodded and took a few sips from the glass.

  “Can I use your bathroom before I leave?”

  “Course, it’s up there.”

  Grace picked up her handbag and made her way towards the stairs. She shuddered as a gust of wind lashed against the landing window. I certainly hope it’s stopped snowing out there, she thought to herself as she made her way into the bathroom.

  She looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. Her cheeks were sunken and her skin pale and grey. She turned the tap on and splashed cold water onto her face. It left the sting of a slap on her cheeks but she felt better for it. Opening her handbag she found the anti-depressant tablets. She popped one out of its bubble and dropped the tablet into her mouth.

  “Feeling a bit better?” Kate asked as Grace returned to the room.

  “A bit, thanks,” she said reaching for the backpack. “Kate, before I go, I have a message for you.”

  “Ok, who from?”

  “Well I can’t really tell you that.”

  “Right,” replied her friend a little sceptically, “Can I just ask if Harry is behind this?”

  “This has nothing to do with Harry, although I did have a message for him as well.”

  “Cool. So what’s the message then?”

  “It’s... just that, you know the drawer in your desk?”

  “Which one?”

  “One of the lower drawers has a false bottom to it.”

  “Wow, who would figure? I’ve had that desk years and I had no idea. How on earth did you find out?”

  “Don’t ask. It’s a long story. I’ve got to go now. It’s late and the weather’s getting worse. Just lift the false bottom of the drawer.”

  “Ok, hun, I’ll lift it, promise. Now you look after yourself out there. Give me a ring when you get back to the hotel. Just to let me know you got there safely.”

  “Yeah, sure, will do,” she said doing up the buttons on her coat and slinging the backpack over he
r shoulder. “Kate, would you mind if I take tomorrow off? I think I should see a doctor.”

  “That’s fine, hun. Things have slowed down a bit the last few days.”

  The wind howled around them as they hugged goodbye on the doorstep.

  “You sure I can’t call you taxi?”

  “I’ll be fine. Go on, get back inside, Kate, you’ll catch your death out here.”

  Kate laughed, “And you won’t? Come on, Grace, let me get you a taxi.”

  “Really, I’m fine,” she said giving her friend a final quick wave before turning towards the street.

  ********

  Quickly disorientated by the dense fog and carpet of snow that blanketed the city, she found herself on a street that she didn’t recognise. Tired and struggling through the deep snow, she wished she had worn her boots instead of her trainers.

  Icy wind pounded her with snow, the air pierced her skin like a blade and the cold snow burnt her feet through her trainers as she plunged through the bitter blizzard. She blinked, trying to clear her streaming eyes and stumbled with the weight of the backpack. The snow-covered street was deserted but she cried for help none the less. The weak pitiful wail was swallowed by the howling wind as she stumbled again and fell to the ground.

  Tiredness crept into every muscle and bone of her body. She could hear the thudding of her pulse in her ears, felt the bitter cold of the snow beneath her hands and knees as she crawled along the ground. Terror gripped her as she sank exhausted into a snow drift. In desperation she tried to pull herself up, but the weight of the bag on her back and the ache in her limbs prevented her from rising.

  The falling snow started to spin, forming an ever tighter vortex of darkness around her. She could hear the murmur of a voice somewhere in the distance as she desperately fought to keep herself from sleep. Her arm reached out in the direction of the voice and her fingers stretched to touch its source.