Goodbye, Paris by Anstey Harris

Author:Anstey Harris [Harris, Anstey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781501196508
Goodreads: 37510667
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2018-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

 Chapter Fifteen

The first voice I hear belongs to Mr. Williams. Behind that there are other voices, but I can’t make them out.

I don’t bother to listen. I can hear Mr. Williams cooing and worrying. His voice is a blanket and I use the safety of it as an excuse to close my eyes again.

* * *

Nadia’s voice is like breaking glass. “Holy shit, Grace. Way to go.”

Behind her, Mr. Williams continues his noises of peacemaking and platitude. The words are indistinct, but the sounds are enough on their own.

“You couldn’t fucking make it up.” She is taking little or no notice of him.

I feel the gush of air as Nadia drops herself down somewhere near my face. I open my senses if not my eyes and try to understand where I am.

I am in a bed that is not mine. I can tell this from the softness of the pillows ballooning onto my cheeks at either side and from the warmth of a heavy duvet smothering my whole body, cocooning it. I can guess, without too much effort, that this is Mr. Williams’s house.

I have a horrible feeling, a memory as faint and elusive as smoke. I know why I’m here. A guilt, a horror and a crashing sadness fill my mind.

I am less clear on why Nadia is here and I wish she’d go away.

“I’m assuming it’s got everything to do with David.” Nadia is relentless. “I’ve read the article.”

I open my eyes. It is definitely an older person’s house. The walls are beige and covered in a variety of landscape paintings. The light is gentle and filtered through unlined curtains with a pale pattern of stripes.

“What article?”

“I assumed you’d read it. I thought that’s why you . . . you know. Why you smashed everything up.”

“Nadia. These questions can wait.” Mr. Williams shoos her out of the way and I catch sight of her face without turning my head when she stands up. She has come out without her makeup on and she looks young, soft.

“Grace, dear, can I get you a glass of water? I have some here on the nightstand.” He sits on the edge of the bed.

I move my eyes slowly to the left. There is a carafe with a clean glass tumbler upended over its mouth. I nod.

Mr. Williams lifts the glass to my lips and I let him because every inch of me hurts. It is a dull pain, muscular and deep. “What article?”

“Shh, really, Grace. All things in good time. Let’s get you back in the land of the living first.”

I struggle upwards, raising my shoulders off the pillow. My head feels as if it is made of lead and I can barely support its weight. The inside of my mouth feels swollen, the skin on my face tight.

“Jesus, Grace. You look awful.” Nadia’s voice is very loud.

“That’s enough, Nadia,” Mr. Williams intervenes. “Go and make yourself useful. See if the oven’s up to temperature yet for the bread.”

Nadia leaves, presumably to do as she is told.

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