or drinking,’ Eliot shrugs. ‘But drinking’s a student’s prerogative.’
‘And what’s your excuse now?’
‘It’s a teacher’s prerogative too! Some of the banal things I have to teach and the misery that some of the students put me through are both enough to make me reach for a drink.’
‘I can’t imagine your lessons being banal.’
‘My lessons aren’t banal!’ Eliot retorts. ‘It’s the bloody curriculum that’s the problem. Bores the students to death. If I followed the lesson plans that I was meant to, as well as sticking to the set plays, then everybody would have slipped into a tedium-induced coma by the end of the lesson – me included.’
‘Have you got much marking to do over half term?’ Grace asks, remembering that Eliot normally spends most of his time off lamenting what he should be doing to keep in the head of department’s good books.
‘Nah. A bit of planning. Nothing that I can’t do on the day before I go back. So I’ll probably help out here a bit. I like the idea of reading all day.’
‘We don’t just read all day! We’re actually very busy,’ Grace says in mock outrage. ‘In fact, I have a load of new stock to put out. Mags found some of Noel’s old books we could sell at her house the other day, so I need to catalogue them and decide where to place them. I’m considering changing the window display at some point so I need to think of some ideas for that. And I have to cash up, too.’
Eliot rolls his sleeves up. ‘Well then. We’d best get started.’
Grace, 2008
When the phone rings in the shop, Grace knows who it’ll be. They have had a landline installed but it hasn’t rung, apart from now. Grace can’t even remember hearing the ring before, and the noise shocks her at first, a shrill shriek straight through her body. She takes a moment to register what the sound is, then picks up the receiver.
‘Grace? How’s it going there?’
‘It’s going well,’ Grace says perkily, ‘how’s your afternoon?’
‘Oh, you know. It’s fine.’
‘So what’s up?’
‘Nothing. I just wanted to check you’re okay. I could have come back to help if it was busy.’
‘Elsie, please. I’m fine here. In fact, I have some brilliant news. You know the teacher who bought all those books on our first day?’ Grace doesn’t wait for Elsie’s response before continuing. ‘Well, he came back in about an hour ago and bought a load of novels! So I’ve taken over £50.’
‘That really is brilliant!’ Elsie’s voice lifts.
‘So I was thinking we could go out tonight to celebrate. Dinner? On me?’
‘I’d love to!’
Grace smiles. ‘Great. Let’s go to that new tapas bar, you know the one—’
‘It’s called Sombra,’ Eliot interrupts cheerfully, as he places books on an empty shelf.
There’s a silence. ‘Is Eliot with you?’ Elsie asks Grace, her voice tensing.
‘Oh, um, yeah. He was looking for you, actually.’
Elsie relaxes a little. ‘I’ve been trying to call him.’
‘I think he left his phone at home. I’ll put him on.’
Grace hands the phone over to Eliot and tries not to watch him, tries not to take notice of whether his face lights up, or tenses, or changes at all.
‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘I didn’t realise I’d left my phone at home until I got to the shop. I was just going to ring you. I could come to yours now? We could watch a film or something?’
He smiles as he speaks again. ‘Yes, Grace seems to be doing rather well, actually. If you’d have seen her make that sale on those novels before, you would have been really impressed.’
There is a pause, and then Eliot swallows uncomfortably. It is a sickly sound. ‘Yeah. I’d just arrived when the guy came in. Yes, I’ve been here an hour.’
Silence. Then:
‘Elsie, you’re overreacting to this. I came here to see you! Elsie, I—’
But she’s gone, and Eliot is left holding the buzzing receiver.
Grace holds her head in her hands and groans. ‘I don’t know if I can take much more of this. I thought this morning that we had made some kind of progress. It actually felt like we were sisters again.’
‘I know, I know. And now you’re back to square one. Because of me.’
‘It’s not because of you. Not really. If Elsie trusted me properly, then she wouldn’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.’
‘I think we should try to spend less time together,’ Eliot says quietly. ‘I don’t want to lose Elsie.’
‘And I don’t want to lose you!’ Grace explodes. ‘She’s got you! You’re hers! And it’s still never enough.’ She opens the till and snatches out some notes before banging it shut again. ‘I’ve had enough of being good, of going against what I should actually have, just for her, and it still not being good enough, her still not trusting me.’
Eliot watches Grace as she rants her way through the shop, to her jacket at the back, and to the front again, where she stuffs the notes from the till into her pocket.
‘Well, I’m still going out for dinner,’ she finishes. ‘And I think that you should come with me. What do you say?’
Eliot scratches his head, probably to stall time, to give himself a bit longer to think of an answer.
He glances at Grace, almost guiltily. Then he glances at the phone, as though Elsie is still in it, trapped in the shiny coiled wires.
There are stinging tears in Grace’s eyes now.
‘I don’t want to lose you,’ she repeats. ‘You’re my friend, Eliot. Just because Elsie’s going out with you, it shouldn’t mean that I can’t ever see you.’
‘Okay. I’ll come out for dinner. Elsie probably needs some time to cool off anyway. I’ll compensate for all this with her tomorrow. But it’ll have to be just dinner, Grace. I don’t want to cause any further problems, and I don’t want to hurt Elsie.’
‘Fine. Just dinner,’ Grace replies hotly. ‘God, I need a drink. Come on. This shop is now officially closed for the day. Pick me up at eight. I’m going home for a hot bath and a vodka.’
She hears Elsie’s voice in her head: Vodka? The things you drink are disgusting, Grace.
She sees their mother clinging to an empty bottle, hears her demented wailing.
‘I’ll pick a bottle up from the shop on the way home,’ she says to herself, shaking her head slightly to shuffle the images to the back.
As soon as Grace reaches her flat, she runs a scorching bath and lowers herself in carefully. She plunges her head under the water, hearing the blurred clunking of pipes. Even underwater, the feeling of tightness in her stomach does not disappear. She considers calling Elsie to apologise, to explain that nothing has ever happened.
She opens her eyes, water stinging them, her black hair floating above her like smoke. Elsie wouldn’t believe her. So what’s the point?
The day of the car crash was the day that Elsie started to change. The twins had been invited