Fall From Grace: A brand new unmissable psychological thriller by Alan Feldberg

Author:Alan Feldberg [Feldberg, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thrillers & mysteries
Published: 2024-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Then

Grace is sitting cross-legged on the floor. She is surrounded by dolls. She has fourteen of them. By my reckoning that is about fourteen too many. I’m out of my comfort zone here. But I try my best. I know all their names. I don’t know which name goes with which doll. But I’ve got fourteen names.

There is Chloe. I know her because she was the first. She’s been here the longest. I remember choosing her. There is Jessica. Daisy. Deborah. Debbie. Wait. Are Deborah and Debbie the same one? Becki. With an i. The new way. Trendy. Trendy with a y. The right way. Erica. Zoe. Ah, Zoe. I linger a little guiltily over her. If any of these dolls were real I’d want it to be Zoe. Long blonde hair. Enormous blue eyes. A body out of proportion in the most pneumatic way. I’d happily come upstairs and play with her in the afternoons. Katy. Lisa. Bethany. Rachel… I’m struggling now. How many is that? Eleven. Eleven or twelve. Depending on the Debbie verdict. The others. They will come to me.

I’m not comfortable down here. Sitting on the floor. It’s beginning to tell on my joints. What I’m doing is undressing the doll and then putting it into a new outfit. That’s what Grace was doing when I came in, uninvited – but after knocking, I always knock now, she’s of an age – so that’s what I’m doing. But what I’m really doing is studying her for any tiny tell. I’m trying to decide if she’s upset generally or upset with me. Because she’s not said a word since I collected her from school.

She brushed right past me. At the school gate. Not a hello. Not even a frown to let me know she was angry with me. She brushed past me like I wasn’t there. She’s nine. She’s at that awkward age. I try not take these things too personally. I wondered at first if it was still about my talk. The fallout from that. I imagine her friends could have been a little mean about it if they’d chosen to. I fear my mask is slipping. My superhero one. She’s learning, inevitably, that we’re all just people. Even us daddies. We’re just ordinary people. One of millions. Billions. Eight billion in fact. We can’t pretend for ever. She went straight upstairs. When we got home.

‘Did you want something to eat?’ I called to her back. She didn’t stop. I left her alone then. I didn’t want to press. I can’t help but notice how much uglier she is when she’s angry. I’ve noticed before. I hate seeing it. Her face becomes pinched. The too-small features all crowd together. They take up even less of her face. I listened to her banging around upstairs. In her room first. Then in our room. Then in her room again. I waited a little longer then I went into the garden. It’s L-shaped so I can go around the corner and not be seen through any of the windows.

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