Beneath the Shadows by Sara Foster Page B

but I assumed you and your wife would be busy over Christmas. New Year will be fine. I’ve got lots of boxes to go through anyway – you saw the state of the cellar …’
    Now he appeared astounded. ‘My wife ?’
    â€˜Oh …’ Grace floundered. ‘I … erm … Meredith told me that you and your wife lived here. And I thought I saw her this morning? The woman with the long red hair?’
    His expression changed immediately to understanding. ‘No, that wasn’t my wife you saw. I think Meredith must be confused. I’m house-sitting for the owners – they’ve gone overseas for a while and they wanted someone to look after the place, what with Bess and all …’
    â€˜Oh …’ Grace said. ‘Oh …’ Say something else , she cajoled herself. So you don’t look like an idiot .
    As she searched for the words, Ben began to gather the papers together. Grace went to move her glass of water out of the way, but fumbled and sent it flying towards the drawings. In a panic she reached out and managed to tip the glass away from them, only to knock it towards herself. The water splashed the front of her coat, while the glass shattered on the tiles.
    â€˜Oh no,’ she said, staring in dismay at the jagged slivers on the floor. In the hall, Millie began to cry. Grace looked at Ben, her cheeks blazing. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz.’
    â€˜Don’t worry. I’ve got a dustpan and brush somewhere.’
    She hoped he would smile, but his face was solemn as he began searching in cupboards. Bess got to her feet, wagging her tail and looking curiously at the kitchen floor. ‘Stay, Bess,’ Ben told her sternly. Meanwhile, Millie wailed louder.
    â€˜Sounds like you need to go,’ Ben said, and he grasped Bess’s collar and guided her out the back door. ‘I’ll clear this up in a second, after I’ve helped you out with the pushchair.’
    Grace hurried down the corridor to Millie, her face ablaze with embarrassment. Ben was right behind her. He opened the front door, and helped Grace carry the pushchair down the step. When he’d finished he knelt down and smiled at Millie, stroking her cheek briefly with one hand. At his touch, Millie quietened, eventually giving him a shy smile in return. Grace watched them both in astonishment.
    He straightened up as he said, ‘So, how soon do you want me to start? I could probably knock down the kitchen wall before Christmas, if you like?’
    â€˜Really?’ To Grace, the task looked onerous, yet he talked about it as though it would be simple.
    â€˜Can I come round in the morning and take another look at it? Check it’s not a bigger job than I think it is. But, yes, I reckon it’s manageable, if you’re prepared to live upstairs for a few days.’
    Grace thought about it for a moment. This was decision time. Her last chance to run away, before she made a proper start on things – before she got other people involved, and so had to see it through. Then she felt the courage she had been cultivating for the last year rising firmly above her fear, and she smiled at Ben and said, both to him and to herself, ‘Right, then. Let’s get on with it.’

That night, after Millie was safely tucked up in bed, Grace carried one of the boxes from the attic down the stairs, set it in the middle of the lounge, and kneeled on the floor in front of it. Opening the lid, she began plucking a few things from the top at random.
    Out came clothes. Old-style blouses, a couple of dresses, a christening gown.
    To begin with she handled things carefully, one at a time, but after a while she stood up, heaved the box onto its side and then over, spilling all the contents onto the floor. Then she picked through the mound in front of her, examining each item before putting everything except the christening gown back into the box they had come from.