her?’
Grace looked up and met his gaze with her frank brown eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do. But I’m glad for her sake that she died. She was in pain.’
Right. Well, that put him in his place then. In the pause that followed, he studied her. He had a sudden image of that thick black hair spread out around her face, rather than lying sensibly plaited down her back. How wonderful to feel those thick strands sliding through his fingers. The erotic nature of the thought startled him. He hadn’t thought about a woman like that in two years. Not since he met Sally. He looked away quickly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said suddenly. ‘That was a bit of a conversation killer. I’m not very good at this social situation stuff. I’ve forgotten how to do small talk.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly Mr Conversation either.’ Peter turned his head to look at her. ‘Shall we have another go?’ he said. ‘Let’s see. What’s a good conversation gambit? What do normal people talk about?’
‘I can’t remember. I told you I wasn’t very good at this.’
‘Right … let’s see … what are you doing next weekend? Anything exciting.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I’m clearing my house.’
‘Really? Why? Are you moving?’
‘No. I’ve just decided it’s time I did it. I live in a three bedroomed house and sleep in the tiny little room I grew up in. When there’s a perfectly good master bedroom next door. How silly is that?’
‘I can top that,’ said Peter. ‘I live in my own house, which has four bedrooms and I sleep in the spare room. In my own home.’
‘Okay. You win. You’re more pathetic than I am.’
Peter did a mock punch in the air. ‘Yes. Result.’
‘Now you’re just taking the mick.’
They both laughed. Another feeling that was almost forgotten. How long had it been since he’d laughed? Beside him, Grace drained her tea. ‘I suppose I should get back to work,’ she said. ‘Harry’s a difficult task master to please.’ She raised her mug to Harry. ‘I’ll go see what he wants me to do next,’ she said. ‘It was nice talking to you Peter.’
With a smile in his direction, she was gone. Peter felt her absence next to him. When had he last had a conversation that wasn’t about work or Sally? Probably not since the accident. Or even, slightly before that. Most wedding related conversations had been based around Sally too. He allowed himself a small smile before finishing off his drink.
The redecorating took three weekends. Grace ended up working next to Peter most days, thanks to Harry stirring. They settled into a comfortable level of friendship. Grace found that talking to Peter came easily to her. Harry often accused her of flirting with him, but she had never done that. Not consciously anyway.
Peter didn’t seem to mind either. As the days went on, he seemed to unwind more and more, until it seemed almost commonplace for him to smile and laugh at Harry’s jokes. The only problem was, the more she learned about him, the more she liked him. She would catch herself thinking about him when she was meant to be concentrating on something else. Each day she came in to help with the redecorating, she would feel a flutter of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. She told herself it was something she could control. She wasn’t a teenager. She was perfectly capable of noting someone was attractive and still keeping a healthy distance.
When Harry announced it was time to call it a day, people downed tools and started to clear up. Some people drifted off to go and see their loved ones while others lingered, talking and laughing as they finished off small jobs.
‘Thanks for coming today,’ Harry said, ambling up to where Grace was. He said that every day. To everyone.
Grace paused in the middle of rubbing her nails to get the paint off them. ‘It was fun.’
‘And we got quite a lot done.’
They surveyed the room. It still looked untidy,
Grace looked up and met his gaze with her frank brown eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do. But I’m glad for her sake that she died. She was in pain.’
Right. Well, that put him in his place then. In the pause that followed, he studied her. He had a sudden image of that thick black hair spread out around her face, rather than lying sensibly plaited down her back. How wonderful to feel those thick strands sliding through his fingers. The erotic nature of the thought startled him. He hadn’t thought about a woman like that in two years. Not since he met Sally. He looked away quickly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said suddenly. ‘That was a bit of a conversation killer. I’m not very good at this social situation stuff. I’ve forgotten how to do small talk.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly Mr Conversation either.’ Peter turned his head to look at her. ‘Shall we have another go?’ he said. ‘Let’s see. What’s a good conversation gambit? What do normal people talk about?’
‘I can’t remember. I told you I wasn’t very good at this.’
‘Right … let’s see … what are you doing next weekend? Anything exciting.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I’m clearing my house.’
‘Really? Why? Are you moving?’
‘No. I’ve just decided it’s time I did it. I live in a three bedroomed house and sleep in the tiny little room I grew up in. When there’s a perfectly good master bedroom next door. How silly is that?’
‘I can top that,’ said Peter. ‘I live in my own house, which has four bedrooms and I sleep in the spare room. In my own home.’
‘Okay. You win. You’re more pathetic than I am.’
Peter did a mock punch in the air. ‘Yes. Result.’
‘Now you’re just taking the mick.’
They both laughed. Another feeling that was almost forgotten. How long had it been since he’d laughed? Beside him, Grace drained her tea. ‘I suppose I should get back to work,’ she said. ‘Harry’s a difficult task master to please.’ She raised her mug to Harry. ‘I’ll go see what he wants me to do next,’ she said. ‘It was nice talking to you Peter.’
With a smile in his direction, she was gone. Peter felt her absence next to him. When had he last had a conversation that wasn’t about work or Sally? Probably not since the accident. Or even, slightly before that. Most wedding related conversations had been based around Sally too. He allowed himself a small smile before finishing off his drink.
The redecorating took three weekends. Grace ended up working next to Peter most days, thanks to Harry stirring. They settled into a comfortable level of friendship. Grace found that talking to Peter came easily to her. Harry often accused her of flirting with him, but she had never done that. Not consciously anyway.
Peter didn’t seem to mind either. As the days went on, he seemed to unwind more and more, until it seemed almost commonplace for him to smile and laugh at Harry’s jokes. The only problem was, the more she learned about him, the more she liked him. She would catch herself thinking about him when she was meant to be concentrating on something else. Each day she came in to help with the redecorating, she would feel a flutter of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of seeing him. She told herself it was something she could control. She wasn’t a teenager. She was perfectly capable of noting someone was attractive and still keeping a healthy distance.
When Harry announced it was time to call it a day, people downed tools and started to clear up. Some people drifted off to go and see their loved ones while others lingered, talking and laughing as they finished off small jobs.
‘Thanks for coming today,’ Harry said, ambling up to where Grace was. He said that every day. To everyone.
Grace paused in the middle of rubbing her nails to get the paint off them. ‘It was fun.’
‘And we got quite a lot done.’
They surveyed the room. It still looked untidy,
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