Page 32 of The Blue Hour

‘Grace!’ Vanessa clutched at Grace’s forearm with both hands. ‘Please …’

Grace relinquished her grasp. She snatched the car key from Vanessa’s hand and marched past her into the house, slamming the front door behind her.

Vanessa found her in the kitchen, drinking water directly from the tap.

‘Butterball,’ Vanessa said. ‘That’s what it means. It’s … it wasn’t meant cruelly.’

Grace stood up and turned off the tap. ‘Yes, it was.’ She looked at Vanessa, at her glassy eyes and her petulant expression; Grace wanted to slap her. ‘Men like him … they have a special kind of contempt for women like me –uglywomen. I’ve felt it all my life. An ugly woman is barely human to a man like your husband. It’s sickening, but not all that shocking. What’s worse, what is utterlyabject, is the way that women like you – the pretty, thechosen– the way you collude in that contempt. Simpering like a schoolgirl, because a man has paid you some attention. Laughing cravenly at his cruelties. It’s pathetic.’

‘It’s not like that,’ Vanessa said. She bit her lip and began tocry; Grace turned away in disgust. Vanessa grabbed hold of her wrist. ‘I’mnot like that.’

Grace placed her hand over Vanessa’s, trying to pry her fingers open, but Vanessa wouldn’t let her go; she put her arms around her, encircling her waist, crying into the fabric of her shirt. Grace stood stiffly, hands at her side, taking long, deep breaths.

‘I don’t know why I let him do it,’ Vanessa said. ‘I don’t know why I let him back in.’

‘He flatters you,’ Grace said. ‘He exploits your vanity.’

‘Yes.’ She spoke into the nape of Grace’s neck. ‘Yes, he does. When he touches me I feel as though my bones will melt, I feel – for a few moments, a few hours – sowanted. There’s such power in it, the feeling of being desired.’ Grace tried again to disentangle herself, but Vanessa held on. ‘He flatters me, charms me, seduces me, and it’s so good.’ She lifted her head, looked into Grace’s eyes. ‘The sex is so good. It’s so self-affirming, isn’t it, to be made to feel that way in bed?’

Grace wrenched herself free of Vanessa’s stifling embrace. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, to sing like a child to block out the sound of Vanessa’s voice, but Vanessa, following her across the room, kept talking. ‘Then of course he’s barely come and he starts talking about money, the things he needs, how much he owes, the places he wants to go … He callsmeselfish!’ She shook her head. ‘He wants to know why, when I have all I need – the house and the studio and the island – why can’t I justshare?’

Grace scoffed, incredulous. ‘He surely can’t thinkyouhave anything to give him? For Christ’s sake, you can barely keep the lights on.’

Vanessa sniffed, wiping her eyes. She went over to the sink and turned on the tap, taking a glass from the cupboard. ‘He’s desperate,’ she said, in between gulps. ‘He hasn’t said so, but readingbetween the lines I think he’s borrowed money from people he oughtn’t to have borrowed money from.’

‘And he expects you to bail him out? If he’s been stupid, he needs to take responsibility for that …’

Vanessa turned back to face her, her eyes filled with sorrow. ‘It was the thing with Celia Gray, you see, he thought he’d bought the winning ticket. He thought he didn’t have to worry any longer. But then she died, and they hadn’t married yet becausewewere still married, so he got nothing—’

‘He blames you!’ Grace was astonished. ‘He blames you, and worse, you feel sorry for him!’

Vanessa drained the last of the water and placed the glass on the counter. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that stupid? I feel sorry for him, and I let him turn my head, I let him talk me into things, I lose the thread … of where I am.WhoI am. I neglect the things that really matter to me, my work …’ She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. ‘And you.’ Grace lowered her head. ‘God, I never should have let him cross the threshold, the fuckingvampire.’ Vanessa approached Grace once more and reached out, placing the crook of her forefinger gently beneath Grace’s chin. Grace closed her eyes. ‘Hewasbeing cruel to you, Gracie. He was, and I don’t know why I laughed, because it wasn’t funny. I didn’t find it funny then and I don’t now. It’s unforgivable.’

Grace sighed. ‘But I forgive you,’ she said softly. She did not open her eyes.

Vanessa stayed the night. Before the sun was up, she rose to beat the tide and drove back across to Eris Island. The next day, on the Thursday, she left early again, this time driving to Glasgow to finalize plans for the show with Douglas.

That lunchtime, while Grace sat eating a sandwich on her bench overlooking the harbour, she saw Julian’s little red sportscar come racing across the causeway, haring up the hill and into the village at twice the speed limit.

On Sunday, the shops in the village were closed, so Grace drove to the market in Carrachan to buy food and flowers to welcome Vanessa home, but when she got over to the island that afternoon, Vanessa’s car was already parked in the courtyard. The front door was open, but when Grace called for her, no answer came. Grace found her in the studio. She was kneeling on the floor.

She had blood in her hair, and on her clothes and hands.

23

The first thing Becker sees is the gun. Right there in the hallway, leaning against the bench. Grace clocks him looking at it. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says with a wry smile. ‘It’s just for show. I’ll not be requiring you to shoot your dinner.’

Becker laughs nervously. ‘Is it the same one?’ he asks.

Grace’s brow furrows. ‘The same as …?’

‘The … one Vanessa borrowed, you know, from the farmer …’

‘Oh.’ Grace nods, recognition registering in her eyes, face flushing. ‘You read that part.’

‘It’s …horrifying.’

Grace nods again. ‘Yes, it was. A fat lot of use the gun was, too.’ She looks thoughtful. ‘Although I suppose we could have beaten him to death with it.’ She turns, leading Becker into the living room, where three boxes of papers sit atop the coffee table. ‘Those are for you,’ she says, waving a hand at them. ‘That should keep your boss happy.’

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