Changing Grace Read online

  Changing

  Grace

  Elizabeth Marshall

  In the writing of this book the author seeks to tell a tale; a story of fantasy, mystery and intrigue. For the purpose of the tale, which is set in a real world at a real point in time, it has been necessary to include some historical facts and bias. However, it was never the author’s intent to write a book of historical fact or to reflect personal or political opinion in any way.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  The Right of Deborah-Ann Brown to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the

  Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  First Published 2011

  Copyright © 2011 Deborah-Ann Brown

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:10: 1466375051

  ISBN-13: 978-1466375055

  Dedication

  I dedicate this short story with all my love to my precious family, Andy, Sean, Kel, Ste, Rose, Dave, George and Emma - a tiny reminder of the many exciting adventures we have had over the years in the ancient city of York.

  And to Eva Coppersmith! My friend, I have run out of ways to thank you. You are the best friend a girl could wish for. This past year has not been an easy one for either of us. May this story take you to a place of happy fantasy!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Andy I could not and would not have written anything without you beside me. You are my world and I love you with all my heart! For all the wonderful times we have snuck away to York together and the adventures that planted the seed of this plot, I thank you my love. For all the precious memories we have created together in York over the years – you put magic back into my life.

  Oh, and you’re a pretty damn good editor and manger as well. Love you darling, so much. x

  Kel and Ste for your patience, love and support, I thank you with all my heart. How you two put up with me, I will never know? Yet again you have stood with me and made this happen. You really are my guardian angels. To the two best proof readers and cover designers in the world, I love you both so much, thank you. x

  Sean, where would I be without your guidance on plot and dialogue? Oh, yes, of course, everyone would sound like they’d just stepped out of a finishing school. Love you big lad so much and thank you for rescuing me. x

  David, George and Emma – my little support team. Couldn’t do any of this without you. Love you all and thank you. x

  Noreen Muller and Kim Bennett for being brave enough and kind enough to test drive this plot on its first draft. You are both absolute stars, thank you, so very much. x

  Diane Castiglione for believing that I could write a ghost story and giving me the push I needed to do it. You are a lovely lady and a precious friend. x

  Paul Anthony (author of ‘Bushfire’), Sonia Rumzi (who wrote ‘Caring For Eleanor’) and Zoe Saadia (author of The Cahokian) what would I do without you all? I value and cherish your friendship, support and kindness greatly. x

  CHANGING GRACE

  Terror clung to her soul as she stared at the portrait.

  “How did you know, Harry?”

  “How did I know what?”

  “That his wife wasn’t from his time?”

  The ageing man lifted the bottle of whisky and spun the metal lid off the glass top. She could smell the heady fumes of liquor as he lifted the open bottle to his mouth.

  “Look closely at the portrait, Grace. Look at her wrist.”

  She scanned the image, fighting the rising panic inside her.

  “It’s my watch,” she whispered.

  Harry put out his arm and dangled the bottle in front of her.

  “Here, have some of this.”

  Grace shook her head, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

  “I don’t drink spirits.”

  “It’s time you started then girl,” he said, lifting the bottle to his mouth again and taking a large sip.

  “Harry I don’t understand. How could I have come to be in this portrait?”

  “That is the mystery we must solve.”

  “That portrait must be almost four hundred years old. That’s not a mystery in my book. It’s weird.”

  He nodded, taking another sip from the bottle.

  “Can’t argue with you there, girl.”

  “What am I going to do, Harry?”

  “Well you’re not going to panic, for starters.”

  “How can I not panic? I’m sitting here on the floor of a pub, in a city I’ve only been in a week, looking at a portrait of myself that was painted nearly four hundred years ago.”

  “I can’t tell you how this painting came into being, but Grace, you can’t deny its existence.”

  She reached out and took the bottle of whisky from him. She ran her fingers absently over the label on the glass.

  “What if it’s just a relative? That would make sense,” she said turning to face Harry with hopeful eyes. The elderly man shook his head.

  “No, Grace.”

  “Why? It happens. Genetics are a funny thing. There are people whose looks can throw back hundreds of years.”

  “And the watch?”

  “Ok, so that is weird. Someone could have painted it on. It wouldn’t be the first time a genuine painting has been tampered with.”

  “I found this twenty years ago. The watch was there then and no one has touched it since.”

  “Twenty years ago I didn’t have this watch. I was only a young girl.”

  “But your future self four hundred years ago did.”

  Grace lifted the bottle to her mouth and took a tentative sip, gasping and coughing as the fiery liquid slipped down the back of her throat. Harry laughed and took the bottle from her.

  “You were right, girl. Stick to wine,” he said helping himself to another swig from the bottle.

  Grace smiled and rested her hand on Harry’s knee.

  “You have been a good friend to me, Harry.”

  “Careful, you’ll have me blushing,” he replied patting her hand gently.

  “Would you mind taking that portrait down?”

  “I think that would be a good idea. Now that you are here, we don’t want anyone else putting two and two together. Especially Kate. She has a bit of a fixation with your future husband.”

  “Don’t call him that.”

  “Sorry. That was crass of me. But it’s your fate and you will have to come to terms with it at some point.”

  “How am I supposed to reply to that? It’s a ridiculous notion. No one travels in time. Einstein’s theory of relativity? Can’t be done, Harry, it can’t be done.”

  “But what if he was wrong? What if neutrons could break the speed of light? Just because scientists haven’t seen it done doesn’t mean it hasn’t been done.”

  “That would turn the world of physics on its head.”

  “It would. But you can’t discount something’s possibility just because it will upset school curriculums.”

  “I need a coffee,” Grace said, pushing herself up from the floor. Harry nodded and spun the cap back onto the whisky bottle.

  “Bad habit,” he mumbled to himself as his stiff body rose to stand beside Grace.

  “You ok, Harry?”

  “I’m an old man. Sipping whisky at this time on a Sunday morning isn’t a good way to start the day.”

  “Have you eaten anything yet?”

  “Never have breakfast. Messes with my system.”

  Grace laughed, slipping her hand into his.

  “And whisky doesn’t?”

  “Oh yes, whisky does but it’s a far more pleasant way to mess up y
our system.”

  “Come on you, I’m gonna make us both something to eat. If you keep drinking that stuff on an empty stomach you’ll never be fit to open this pub today.”

  Smiling to herself she set about clearing up the kitchen and making some toast. He was still a nice old man, even if he had just scared the life out of her.

  ********

  Back in her room at the ‘Cavalier Hotel’, Grace stood at the window and stared out at the street below her. What had happened that morning in Harry’s pub had frightened her beyond anything she could ever have imagined. She turned and looked at the portrait of Robert Hamilton. A dark shadow appeared to have crossed his face. His lips looked thinner and the muscles of his wide jaw appeared to have tensed. None of this made any sense to Grace. She rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. Was she in the middle of some terrible nightmare? It all felt real enough.

  She cast her mind back to the day she had arrived in York. Less than a week ago, she had stood on the platform at York station wondering what her new life would hold. Now she had a job, a comfortable hotel room and at least two new friends - both of whom believed in the ghost of Robert Hamilton. Did she believe in it? Grace still couldn’t be sure. She had certainly grown to know the man, more intimately than she should, thanks in no small part to her recent dreams. In truth she was falling hopelessly in love with this man. Real or imagined, Robert Hamilton was stealing her heart and there wasn’t a damn thing Grace could do about it.

  A sense of urgency fell over her as she went about her final preparations for bed and the morning. She glanced curiously over at the portrait.

  “Will you fill my dreams tonight, Mr Hamilton?”

  A tiny flutter of expectation ran through her but sanity prevailed and the feeling was quashed. The dreams were idyllic, beautiful and in them she felt loved and safe. But, she reminded herself, they were only dreams. Her emotions were still too raw, her heart too tender to meddle in this nonsense. This man was not real. He was dead. Grace had seen his grave and it was as real as the snow that fell outside her bedroom window.

  Sleep beckoned but she refused to give in to it in case he should come to her again. She screamed with the need for him but, in the same breath, was beyond terrified of him.

  ********

  His presence once more filled the room as sleep claimed her mind.

  Dare she trust him? Her heart leapt at the thought. She sensed him behind her, moments before she felt his strong arms wrap around her waist. His chest was rising and falling against her back, his breath warm and soft against her ear. She gasped as pleasure rippled through her body at the feel of his touch.

  “Why do you haunt me, Robert?” she whispered to the darkness.

  “You are the one that haunts my dreams.”

  “I’m frightened, Robert. I don’t understand.”

  “No my love, nor do I.”

  She had to resist, had to stop this. She fought to end the dream. Her mind clawed to break free, pulling at a thin thread of light that broke through the darkness. But he held her, trembling against him until the light of dawn rose around them.

  “You bloody man!” she shouted, lifting the pillow beside her and hurling it at the portrait. It missed and hit the wall, knocking the kettle off the desk as it bounced and fell to the floor. She swung out of bed and grabbed the kettle base that was now hanging from its cable in the wall. She lifted her eyes up to the portrait; sure she had noticed a brief smile. “I swear Robert Hamilton, this isn’t funny. I advise you to wipe that smile off your face now.”

  Defeated, she sank onto the bed, lifting her hands to rub at her forehead.

  “What the hell am I going to do with you?” she said, staring into his dark eyes. She glanced at her watch. It was getting late and she needed to get ready for work.

  ********

  Her day passed in a fairly ordinary fashion. Kate chatted incessantly about anything and everything, mercifully managing to avoid the subject of Robert Hamilton. She invited Grace to her house for what she called a ‘girlie night’ after work and Grace accepted.

  ********

  As she followed the directions to Kate’s house, Grace wondered if Lisa would be there. She still hadn’t had the chance to talk to her. It bothered her that the lady was suffering and unhappy and Grace wanted desperately to be able to ease her pain. She knew too well the horror of a loveless and abusive marriage. She shuddered as she cast her mind back to the man she had left. I am well rid of you Jack Evans, she thought, lifting her hand to knock on the front door of what she hoped was Kate’s house.

  “So where is everyone?” Grace asked as Kate ushered her into the living room.

  “Oh it’s just you and me. I didn’t invite anyone else. Don’t think my other mates will quite get it the same as you will.”

  Grace grew uneasy, scanning her eyes around the room for clues.

  “Kate I don’t understand. What do you mean? I thought your friends would be here too.”

  “Chill out, Grace. I didn’t invite them because they aren’t into all this paranormal stuff like you and I are.”

  “Paranormal? Kate, I don’t know anything about the paranormal,” Grace said as fear ran up her spine.

  “Well it’s not so much paranormal, just that I invited a medium round.”

  “A medium?! Kate what on earth made you think I would be interested in seeing a medium?”

  “Well I wanted to see one and I didn’t want to do it on my own. I didn’t think you would mind, given that you live with a ghost.”

  “Ok, Kate this has gone far enough. I don’t live with a ghost. It’s you and Harry that keep telling me I live with a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts and I think this has all gotten way out of hand. You are both scaring me.”

  “Wooo, Grace, take a chill pill, hun. This is just a bit of fun, nothing serious. Don’t see the medium if you don’t want to. No one’s gonna make you.”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. I overreacted. It’s just that between you and Harry, ghosts seem to have become a living part of my life. I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t believe in them.”

  “You know Grace, for a lady who doesn’t believe in ghosts you sure seem pretty freaked out by them.”

  She was right and Grace knew it. If she really didn’t believe in ghosts then none of this would be an issue. She would be sitting here enjoying a glass of wine and having a good laugh. The realisation hit her like a bus and she stared open mouthed at her new friend.

  “Kate, why did you arrange this?”

  “I thought it would be fun and I wanted to see a medium.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Grace replied seriously.

  “Yeah, alright, you rumbled me. Harry gave me her number this morning. He said you should see her. He knew you wouldn’t go if he told you to so he asked me to set it up. I’ve got to be honest, it seems a bit strange. I mean you only met him on Friday. I know he is a nice guy and all that but this is just a bit weird, even for me. What’s going on, Grace?”

  Grace took a deep breath and wondered how much she should tell her new friend. So much of her new life depended on her relationship with Kate. She was her boss and one of only two friends she had. Could she really afford to risk all that by sharing the bizarre events that had become her life in the past few days?

  “I don’t know what is going on. I wish to God I did know, but I just don’t. Kate, I am frightened,” Grace said as tears welled in her eyes.

  Throwing her arms around her, Kate hugged her like a child. Tears rolled down her face as Grace sobbed and hugged her friend back.

  “Shhh, hun, its ok. I’m here.”

  “Kate, I just don’t know what to do. It’s all such a mess.”

  “What’s a mess, Grace? Tell me, hun. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “Him... I mean, Robert Hamilton, the ghost. I don’t know what he is. He is there in my head all the time. Wherever I go he is there. I sleep and he is in my dreams, I come to work and I see his fac
e on the desk, I go to the pub and I see him behind the bar. Then Harry shows me this portrait of him and his wife. Kate, I’m in the portrait, I’m his wife.”

  Her boss drew back, her eyes staring fearfully at Grace.

  “Oh my God, Grace! Do you know what this means?”

  Grace shook her head slowly. As soon as the words had left her mouth she regretted them. She could see it in Kate’s eyes. She had seen it before. The look a person had when they both pitied and feared someone. She had given too much away. Shared too much of herself. Of course her friend thought she was crazy. How could she not? Jack had been right all along. She was neurotic and needed help.

  Grabbing for her handbag she made to leave.

  “Kate... I’m sorry. I’ve got to go... I understand if you don’t want me back at work tomorrow.”

  “Grace, hold on. What are you doing?”

  “I’ve got to go,” Grace said hurriedly.

  “Hold on, please. Don’t go, my friend. We can fix this. I will help you.”

  Grace stood, clutching her handbag, staring at Kate.

  “I thought you would want me to go.”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “Because I am insane.”

  “That’s a ridiculous notion. What makes you think that?”

  “I’m seeing and talking to ghosts.”

  Kate smiled and a laughed.

  “When you put it that way... I guess you do sound a bit touched.”

  Grace’s brow curved in a slight frown, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.

  “So you do think I’m crazy?”

  “No you daft beggar, of course I don’t think you’re mad. I was joking. Look, Grace, this medium is due any minute. Go upstairs and sort your makeup out. I’ll get us another glass of wine and then you can have a chat with the medium and we’ll see if she can spread any light on all this.”