Gracie. Marie Maxwell

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      ‘Gracie! Hello my dear,’ he said with joy in his voice as he stood up. ‘It’s so nice to see you. I thought you’d forgotten about your old dad, it’s been so long …’

      Gracie looked sheepish. ‘I know, I’m sorry, but …’ she paused. ‘Well, you know what it’s like, it’s just easier to stay away and let things lie. I’m a bit of a coward under fire.’

      ‘I know what you mean dear, but it probably makes things worse,’ he said kindly. ‘Maybe if we didn’t only see you once in a blue moon your mother would have come round a bit more.’

      ‘I tried that …’ Gracie started.

      ‘I know but I don’t think you appreciate how hard it was for your mother. But no one knows about it here so perhaps there’s hope.’

      ‘But no one knew about it where we were before, she just thought they did,’ Gracie felt compelled to reply.

      ‘I know,’ Fred McCabe said with a gentle smile. ‘But your mother has always worried about the neighbours, and her mother before her; it’s the way of her side of the family. My way is live and let live. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that.’

      ‘You could have come to see me; you know where I live, you all know where I live. It was hard at the Palace, I grant you, but the Thamesview is different,’ Gracie paused, suddenly aware that she was being defensive again. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t go on, I know! But it’s nice to see you now and I’ve got something to tell you, some good news …’

      ‘All in good time, Gracie, all in good time.’ Fred McCabe interrupted her quickly. ‘Your mother’s inside but your sisters are both out gallivanting, what with it being the weekend. You are coming in, aren’t you? Not just passing by?’

      ‘If you want me to … if Mum won’t mind. I want to talk to you.’

      ‘When we get inside. Mustn’t leave your mother out, eh?’ Fred smiled at his eldest daughter and patted her shoulder affectionately.

      ‘It’s nice round here, all peaceful and homely,’ Gracie said, putting off the moment she would have to face her mother once again. She looked around at the small, neat estate of pre-fabricated bungalows that had been erected just after the war to house many of the local residents who had been bombed out of their own homes. The small properties were all identical in design and colour but most showed their inhabitants’ identity via the lace curtains at the windows and flowers in the postage stamp-sized front gardens.

      ‘It’s really handy for everything,’ Gracie continued. ‘Blimey, you’ve got the buses on the doorstep and shops round the corner; and the airport within spitting distance for you.’

      ‘We were lucky to get housed here, what with me working at the airport. Now I walk over the road and there I am. I can even pop home for lunch if the mood takes me, and the pub is just down the road for when I need it.’

      He laughed and Gracie joined in conspiratorially, even though she knew her father had never touched a drop of alcohol in his life. His only vice was the familiar old brown pipe that was either clamped between his teeth or in his hand being emptied and refilled almost ritualistically. At night it was always placed upside down in the large chipped glass ashtray that lived on the draining board. Gracie wondered nostalgically if it was still there in the new place or if her mother had succeeded in banishing it outside.

      ‘And I have a shed! It’s not big enough to turn round in but I’ve always wanted one,’ her dad said, grinning.

      ‘That’s good, Dad. You deserve it.’

      ‘I don’t know about deserve it but it’s nice to have my own little hidey-hole after a lifetime of living with all you girls,’ he laughed.

      ‘How are the twins?’ Gracie asked. ‘I saw Jenny some time back – I bumped into her in the high street. She looked really nice but she was as shy as ever, chalk and cheese that pair,’ she added, referring to the twin sisters who were four years her junior.

      ‘Jenny said she saw you, that you were doing well at that hotel with your friend. I was pleased to hear it. We’ll soon be on our own here; the twins are both engaged and planning a double wedding in a couple of years time. That should save me a few bob, two for the price of one. They both seem like nice lads …’

      ‘Oh, Jenny never said a word about it to me …’ Gracie smiled sadly. ‘I suppose I’m not invited then. Me being the black sheep and all.’

      Her father put his arm around her waist and gently edged her to the front door, which was ajar. ‘Now, that’s not like you to be self-pitying. You’re jumping to conclusions again, they haven’t even set the date yet! And to be fair, we’ve lived here for nigh on eighteen months now and you haven’t come to visit us.’

      ‘I know. I really do know, and I’m sorry but …’ Gracie began.

      ‘Come on,’ Fred McCabe said quietly. ‘Let’s go inside and break the ice.’ He put his head inside the door and called out. ‘Dot? Are you there, Dot? We’ve got a visitor …’

      Pushing the door right back he slipped his muddy boots off, hung his coat on the hook on the back of the door and stood back to let his daughter pass. Following his nudge, she turned through into the neat sitting room, at the same time as her mother appeared in the doorway opposite that led through to the kitchenette. Both women stopped in their tracks on different sides of the room.

      Rather than meet her mother’s eye immediately, Gracie scanned the room.

      There was very little there that was familiar to her, apart from a couple of ornaments on the shelf over the gas fire, the large wooden mantle-clock that had belonged to her grandparents, and the lace tray-cloth that had pride of place on the sideboard. The furniture was noticeably second-hand but it was in good condition and the room was immaculately clean and tidy. However, it was as if she was in a stranger’s home, and Gracie felt a wave of sadness engulf her.

      There was no disputing that Dot McCabe was Gracie’s mother. Both were tall and slender with brown hair, matching brown eyes, full lips and obvious cheekbones, but whereas Gracie was a naturally happy soul with a ready smile, her mother definitely wasn’t. It showed in the frown lines etched across her forehead and around her permanently downturned mouth.

      She was dressed in top-to-toe dark grey with a faded navy blue apron tied around her waist and lisle stockings rolled down to her ankles. Dot McCabe’s whole persona shouted misery and Gracie could feel it sucking her in from across the room.

      ‘Well, well … Look what the cat’s dragged in, the prodigal daughter …’ her mother said, without changing her expression.

      Although she forced a smile Gracie could feel the familiar griping ache in the pit of her stomach. Despite her hoping otherwise, nothing had changed.

      ‘Nice to see you too, Mum …’ Gracie said as she stared at her mother, her expression neutral. ‘I like the new place, real cosy isn’t it? And so convenient for Dad’s work.’

      ‘Is that why you’re here? To have a good nosey round?’ Dot held her arm out and waved it around with a flourish. ‘Well, this it. Not quite a flashy big seafront hotel but we make do. Beggars can’t be choosers.’

      ‘The hotel’s not big and it’s not СКАЧАТЬ