Playing Grace by Hazel Osmond Read Free Book Online Page A

Evidently, the lease for the floor occupied by Picture London came to Alistair as part of the divorce settlement, but how long it was his, or on what terms, were still unknowns.
    As they approached the large window at the front of the building, Gilbert’s progress faltered.
    ‘Remind me what day it is?’ he said craning his neck to try to peer into Far & Away’s window before his feet reached it.
    ‘You’re safe, early closing. No Bernice.’
    Gilbert stopped craning his neck and sauntered past the darkened window and the posters advertising individually tailored itineraries.
    ‘Thank God for that,’ he said. ‘The eighteen-month buildup to the wedding I could just about cope with, but if I have to hear any more about the house restoration, aboutcornices and picture rails and damp courses I … well, I may book myself on one of her holidays and never return.’
    He held the door open for Grace.
    ‘Leave Bernice alone.’ She walked along the hallway, past the glass-panelled door of the travel agency and then up the stairs. ‘She’s just enthusiastic about everything to do with her and Sol’s life together. I like hearing about it. And, you know, she’d be as enthusiastic about Violet’s projects if you only told her about them. She could get you some really good stuff on China – you wouldn’t have to buy all those expensive travel guides. Why don’t you ask?’
    ‘Not likely.’ Gilbert’s tone was so sharp that she turned on the stairs to look down at him.
    ‘Really? That’s a shame because while you were talking to Bernice about China, you could also apologise for crawling past her door on your stomach earlier in the week so she wouldn’t see you.’
    ‘I’ve never done such a thing.’ Gilbert executed an impression of an innocent man before patting his stomach. ‘How would that even be possible?’
    ‘How indeed?’ She resumed the climb up the stairs until she reached the first turn where there was a window and, more importantly, a wide window sill where Gilbert liked to stop. He said it was to look at the view, but they both knew it was to get his breath back. She waited for him topuff into place and, when he had, he flicked the latch and pushed open the window. The sound of someone warming up their voice, running first up and then down a range of scales, drifted across from the dressing rooms of the nearest theatre.
    ‘Did Bernice really spot me?’ Gilbert asked, still looking out of the window. ‘Has she said something?’
    ‘No, I saw you; just happened to look down the stairwell. But it could very well have been her.’
    ‘Point taken, Mum.’ Gilbert closed the window again, but seemed in no hurry to set off up the remaining flight of twelve stairs that led to Picture London’s front door. From here they could see the white lettering on the black paint and the wonky drawing of the London skyline that Alistair swore was ‘refreshingly naïve’. Gilbert and Grace felt, with the way Big Ben was afforded such prominence, that it was vaguely rude, as though a gargantuan and very wonky penis were menacing the capital.
    ‘So,’ Gilbert gave her a gentle prod, ‘last chance to bet on Alistair’s current crisis. On what is now unfolding behind that black door.’
    ‘Stop it, Gilbert.’
    ‘Oh, Grace, Grace. Just for once you should let him disappear in his own paper storm; work your contracted hours and see where that leaves him. Or at least point out thatmaking sure his backside engages with his office chair more often might improve things.’ Gilbert’s expression became more knowing. ‘And another thing: where does he keep nipping off to these days? And why has he started locking his office door? Has he got another woman?’
    ‘Hardly. He and Emma seem very happy.’
    ‘Ah, yes, your friend Emma. Gives every appearance of being normal and then goes and does something stupid like marrying Alistair.’
    ‘Ignoring you, Gilbert,’ Grace said, going on ahead. She heard him get