Page 1 of Amazing Grace

1

Grace was woken from her slumber by the rattle of the letterbox and the thud of post hitting the doormat, followed by a grizzling, subdued woof. When she realised this was an Archie-free day, she sighed and then remembered that she’d offered to work today, just for something to occupy her. She looked at the clock: 7.30a.m. Much as she’d love to roll over and have a few more minutes, she’d better get a shimmy on. Grabbing her fleecy dressing gown from the hook on the back of her bedroom door, she trundled downstairs, still a bit bleary-eyed, to make her first coffee of the day. There at the bottom of the stairs, lying on the front doormat with a pile of post on his head, was Becks, her most handsome and faithful furry friend. Every single morning without fail, he greeted her with the biggest wiggle of his bum and a face that scrunched up in a lopsided doggy smile. What a perfect start to the day.

She sat on the bottom stair and he climbed onto her lap. Ecstatic with his early morning fussing session, he couldn’t get any closer if he tried. As a labradoodle (or a ‘mongrel’, as her dad would say) he was quite a big dog and way too big for sitting on laps, but he was also the second love of her life, so she let him. After minutes of him trying to suffocate her with affection, Grace shooed him off and grabbed the pile of post, flinging it on the breakfast bar on her way through to the kitchen.

While the kettle boiled, she stretched and rolled her neck to relieve her aches and pains. Crikey, if she felt like this at thirty-seven, how would fifty feel? And then seventy… Didn’t bear thinking about.

Putting the milk back in the fridge, she sat on one of the bar stools and noticed that a gold envelope peeked out from the normal brown ones that she always tried to ignore.

‘Oooh. Becks, what have we here?’ she asked him, wondering who she used to talk to before she had a dog. ‘Fancy-schmancy.’ Whatever was in the envelope felt stiff, like a card. She ripped it open carefully and then her heart hit the floor when she read the words imprinted on it.

Grace Carnegie and Guest

are cordially invited to the

Lord Mayor’s Chambers to celebrate

The Stafford and District Business Awards Ceremony

At 7p.m. on 8 May 2018

Dress Code: Black Tie

So many things ran through Grace’s mind as she re-read the invitation. What would she wear? Who would she take? Who would be there? Would she know anyone? Who else would be on her table? What did ‘Black Tie’ even mean?Did she even want to go?

This was her worst nightmare. She hated public events and she stressed so much about what to wear, she usually made herself ill. She hated making small talk with people she didn’t know, feeling awkward and totally out of her comfort zone. Normally, she avoided occasions like this at all costs.

She was also feeling more sensitive than usual at the moment, after a very traumatic incident on the school playground the day before.

Grace loved the fact that her job allowed her to pick up her son Archie from school two days a week, and she usually really enjoyed seeing him come out of school. Yesterday, however, just as the kids were lining up with the teacher, a lady who was around sixty wandered over to Grace and said, ‘Isn’t it fabulous that we’re able to pick our grandchildren up from school? Don’t you just love this part of being a granny? I wonder if our grandchildren are in the same class? Which one is yours?’

Grace was well aware that on that particular day she hadn’t had time to put her face on, and that yes, she wasn’t the youngest mum in the world, but she was way too embarrassed to tell this lady that Archie was her son, not her grandson, so she nervously smiled, mumbled, grabbed Archie’s hand as quickly as she could and walked away holding her head high, even though she felt totally gut-punched.

Now she was looking forward to next term, when she wouldn’t have to do the school run any more. Archie was ten, and in the last year of primary school, when they encouraged the kids to walk to and from school on their own, getting them ready for high school. At least then she wouldn’t have to face that woman again.

It had played on her mind all evening, and when her friend Monica happened to call her that night, she burst into tears and confided that she already felt like a fat old frump without someone thinking she was a good few years older than she actually was. Monica was really supportive and said she had an idea to make her feel better. Grace had no clue what she had in mind, but they had arranged to get together in a fortnight, the next time that Archie was at his dad’s.

And now, as if it wasn’t bad enough that she had been mistaken for Archie’s granny, Grace had been invited to this formal event. She knew she’d be expected to go, as she’d been told this week that she’d been nominated for an award for her cutting edge work at the family run estate agency that she worked at, and she’d been dreading the invitation arriving, but now, on top of her usual nerves, she was worried that tons of other people would obviously think she was way older than she was.

Grabbing her phone, Grace searched ‘black tie’.

‘Shit the bed, Becks! I have to wear a cocktail dress! What evenisa cocktail dress?’ Her anxiety levels rose even higher.

Grace was a practical soul at heart, a list-maker, so she did what she did best to get rid of stress. She grabbed an empty notepad from her stationery stash and started making a list of pros and cons of going to this event.

PROS

It would be good for business.

I might win.

CONS

I need to lose three stone – FAST!

I don’t have a guest to take.

I’ve never owned a cocktail dress in my life.

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