Free Restoring Grace by Katie Fforde Page A

turn it into a
wardrobe or a three-piece suite, really.’
    Ellie laughed. 'I'm not
making you worried, am I, Grace? I'm so
sorry! You must tell me to stop if I'm doing anything you don't like. I know I do get over-excited about
things.’
    Grace chuckled - Ellie
was a bit like a Labrador puppy, sometimes. 'If
you really want to go to town, you can think of something nice to do with the bathroom. Edward liked
that Spartan look, but without all his leather and silver bits and pieces, it just looks gloomy. I think I'd like something
more feminine.’
    Ellie followed Grace, carrying
her paint and her brush, managing not to ask Grace why, if it
was her house, she didn't get to choose what
sort of bathroom they had, or at least have a bit more input.
    ‘ I think it
needs a mural,' she said, after some thought. 'Something appropriate - like a Roman bathhouse scene.'
    ‘ But we've only got grey paint,' said
Grace, not quite able to hide her relief.
    ‘ That's OK. I've got my oils with me, and the white emulsion. Although maybe a painting of the sea at
dawn would be best. It could be very
romantic, with a boat, the sea and sky almost the same colour—'
    ‘ Exactly the same colour,
seeing as they'll both be grey . .
    ‘It only
needs a little touch of something on the waves - ooh! I've just remembered,
I've got my silver and pens gold with me. Perfect.'
    ‘Mm.' Grace
tried not to wince.
    ‘ We could have a trompe-l'ceil window frame.
It could be really romantic.'
    ‘I'm off
romance,' said Grace. 'It's official. I'm a jaded ex-wife, remember?'
    ‘ I promise I'll paint
over it if you don't like it,' went on Ellie, completely ignoring Grace.
    ‘ Oh all
right! Do your worst. But stop soon, I'm starving.' As she said the words she remembered the man at the
wine tasting, Cormack Flynn, or something, and telling him she never got
hungry. How odd that she was ravenous now.
Perhaps it was something to do with being busy - and Ellie's presence had certainly cheered her up. But why did he pop into her mind just then, when
usually her mind was full of Edward? In the end, however, it wasn't
until half past nine that night, when they
were both exhausted but the decorating was starting to look as if the
end might be in sight, that they finally
collapsed in the kitchen. Grace got out one of the left-over bottles of
wine. 'Is alcohol forbidden for pregnant women?’
    Ellie turned round from the stove, where she
was making scrambled eggs. 'I think a little is OK, but to be honest, I've gone
off it.'
    ‘ But you don't mind . .
    ‘ Good God, no! I think you need a drink, something to help
you relax. Do you want Marmite on your buttered toast? And do you like the eggs
actually on the toast, or just beside it?'
    ‘I don't really mind. I didn't realise it could
be so technical. Edward didn't eat scrambled eggs.'

‘ Rick did. I'm an expert.’
    Ellie went for Marmite,
Grace for plain, and they ate in companionable silence before wending
their way to bed. Later, Ellie regretted
her choice, because she woke up in the night incredibly thirsty. She
went to the bathroom and scooped up handfuls of water and then, her thirst   quenched,
she realised she was hungry again, too. She spent several freezing moments trying to talk her stomach out of this idea but eventually gave in to it. She
was fairly sure there were still some ginger biscuits in the cream
enamel jar.
    She didn't put any lights on. There were no curtains in the hall and
the moon was full and very bright. The house looked beautiful, and
reminded Ellie of a poem she'd read at school, about moonlight. Silver something . . . When she reached the
kitchen and opened the door, she was shocked to see a large shape apparently
draped over the kitchen table. Some
instinct stilled her hand on the light switch,
and a second later she heard the sound of sobbing. It was Grace.
    Grace looked
up when she heard Ellie, gasped, and then sniffed loudly. 'Hi! Can I get you
anything?' She wiped her nose on the