Finding Grace

by K. L. Slater

  But it really wasn’t as simple as that. The shock and the shame would surely kill her dad. And when it came down to it, selfish or not, Lucie didn’t want to go to prison. She hadn’t murdered poor Rhonda, even though Stefan would ensure all the evidence pointed to it.

  She felt very sad that a young woman’s life had come to such an abrupt end, but it hadn’t been her fault. She hadn’t killed Rhonda, and the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that this one salient fact was what she must cling on to, to preserve her sanity.

  She would stay in the B&B tonight, knowing there was no risk of Stefan coming after her, and tomorrow she would go back to campus, pack up her sparse belongings and head home to Nottingham on the train.

  There, she would try and build her life again and resolve to put the terrible events behind her for good.

  She closed her eyes and made a solemn pact with herself and with God, who knew the truth of what had happened.

  If you let me walk away from this, I’ll bury the memory of today and never dwell on it again. I’ll try and make the most of my life and help others where I can.

  Forty-Eight

  The years passed like bleached-out patches of time that should have been filled with everything that Lucie had dreamed she would do and be.

  She was surrounded by disappointment. No matter what she did, it dripped from her like melting wax, smothering the faintest hope that her life might ever improve.

  Her father made at least one comment a day, often more, about how he still found it difficult to believe she had thrown her golden chance away so readily. She never came close to telling him why. She couldn’t lay that at his door.

  Lucie settled into grey, colourless days where she didn’t leave the house. She took on some private bookkeeping work that she did from home during the mornings, usually.

  The only communication that came from Stefan was a regular warning to keep quiet.

  Breathe a word of what you know and I’ll tell the police you were involved in Rhonda’s death.

  But over time, the texts appeared less and less frequently. She had honestly thought he would hunt her down, but in reality, he seemed glad to be rid of her. She was obviously of no more use to him.

  After many months of barely leaving the house, Lucie’s dad sat her down for a chat.

  ‘It’s not healthy, love. A young woman with everything to live for, stuck at home day in, day out.’ He handed her a scrappy note. ‘I got a counsellor’s name from the clinic. Apparently, she’s good. The doctor can get you on the waiting list.’

  Lucie had known she was struggling. She’d even looked it up; agoraphobia, the fear of going out. She didn’t feel like it was a fear, as such, more the easy choice to keep anxiety at bay.

  She was surprised to find she embraced her dad’s suggestion and within six weeks, her first appointment came through.

  Baby steps, the counsellor said. And one of those steps – a very important one, as it turned out – was to venture to the local café once a day, if she felt she could.

  The first few times were difficult. She nearly turned around and didn’t go on several occasions. But then, she came to look forward to the five-minute walk for a latte or a homemade lemonade, in the better weather.

  A man came into the café almost every day. He was a little older than Lucie, tall and good-looking, and he always made a point of lingering a little longer at the counter than was strictly necessary, right by her regular table.

  For her part, Lucie would find an excuse to walk past his table, and they’d chat, mostly about the weather or current affairs. He was very interested in politics and the environment, and she’d talk to him about the takeaway cups the café used, and about how they could suggest to the management that they cut down on plastic wrappings for the sandwiches and suchlike.

  He asked her out, to a Green Party community event, and Lucie accepted.

  ‘I don’t even know your name,’ she laughed.

  ‘Blake Sullivan. Eco-warrior and all-round nice guy.’ He beamed. ‘At your service.’

  They quickly developed an easy friendship. Lucie made it clear she wasn’t looking for a deep and meaningful relationship at that point in time, and he accepted it without question. But they went out regularly as friends, and after a couple of months, it turned into something else.

  Suddenly she realised they were a couple, and it felt right. It felt like she’d been given another shot at happiness.

  In the evenings, Lucie would watch a bit of television with her dad, and then, if she wasn’t seeing Blake, she’d retire to her bedroom to read or watch a film.

  When it rained, she liked to lie in the dark, safe and secure under the covers, and listen to the water tapping on the roof. It comforted her, made her feel like the outside world was far away, and that if she chose, she could stay in this little room for the rest of her life and never see another soul.

  It was true to say that very little changed in her life day to day. Practically every single thing was predictable, reliable… and Lucie liked it that way.

  She felt herself very slowly settling down. The turmoil in her head receded a tiny bit more each week. Her daily scheduled tasks soothed the festering wound inside like a healing balm.

  What everyone else took to be a menial, boring existence, Lucie craved and soaked up. That was just the way it was.

  But she had changed irrevocably. Inside, where nobody could see.

  The slightest upset – like the morning the bus broke down and the passengers had to get off and queue in a strange part of town for another one – could unhinge her for days afterwards. She’d become restless in the night and fractious at work. Memories would stir, resurface, and it took tremendous effort to push them back again.

  One afternoon, she heard two customers talking at the table next to the counter. It was a slow day and the café was quieter than usual, and her ears pricked up when she heard the name of a popular wedding venue in town, The Carlton Hotel.

  ‘They’re going to need all sorts of positions filled: hospitality, waiters, bartenders… Tell him to mark his CV for the attention of Pamela Simpson; she’s the HR person there.’

  Suddenly she felt ready to move on with her life. Rhonda’s death became something to drive her to make the most of her life. She couldn’t spend the rest of her days in her childhood bedroom, living with her dad.

  It felt like a good time to put everything that had happened behind her and bury her time at university for good.

  Forty-Nine

  She’d been working at The Carlton for two years when Blake picked her up from work one day.

  ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’ He grinned, restless with excitement.

  Instead of taking her home, he drove her to a nearby park she loved to visit. They sometimes came here on a weekend if the weather was fine. They’d feed the ducks and sit on one of the wooden benches around the large pond, watching the world go by.

  It was a beautiful day. The sky was a deep azure blue and the temperature soared, causing the front pages of all the newspapers to feature photographs of packed beaches and little kids enjoying ice creams. You could be forgiven for thinking you were living abroad.

  Blake stood up. ‘I have something for you,’ he said softly.

  She expected him to go and fetch a picnic from the car – he knew how much she loved picnics – but instead, he produced a small dark red velvet box and dropped to one knee.

  ‘Lucie, I love you. Will you marry me?’

  Her mouth dropped open as he flicked up the lid of the box and a beautiful diamond solitaire sparkled in the sunlight.

  ‘Yes!’ she whispered as Blake jumped up and kissed her on the lips.

  She’d started as an events planner when she first joined The Carlton, and had been swiftly promoted until finally, after eighteen months, the manager offered her the highly respected position of wedding planner.

  Now, Lucie spent her days at work showing soon-to-be-married couples around th
e venue and then attending their weddings to ensure everything ran smoothly.

  She’d often wondered if she and Blake might get married one day and have a wedding of their own to organise, and now it was finally going to happen.

  In true Blake style, their engagement was low-key. He slid the ring gently on to her finger and they went to a local wine bar to toast the occasion with a glass of champagne.

  That suited Lucie down to the ground. The thought of a big, glitzy party made her feel queasy. She had no friends to speak of, anyway. Blake knew hundreds of people as part of his involvement with the local political scene, but as a couple, they kept themselves to themselves.

  They were very close, but of course, there was a part of her life that Lucie knew she could never share. For a time, she thought it wouldn’t make a difference, but she came to realise that it did encroach on their intimacy. It was always there.

  Still, she felt grateful and blessed to have found happiness at all. Considering.

  And foolishly, she really believed that in time, she would forget all about Stefan O’Hara.

  In contrast, a year later, it was a cold, miserable day when she left work. The television weather forecasters had been grim in their estimation of the prospects for summer that year. Yes, it was June, but that day it had felt more like a cool October afternoon.

  Lucie wrapped her insubstantial mac tighter and tied the belt as she walked, lost in a reverie about her forthcoming wedding and the comprehensive advertising campaign The Carlton had run for their upcoming wedding fairs.

  ‘Oh!’ She almost collided with a man who suddenly appeared in her path. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you…’

  Her voice tapered off and she stepped aside and backed up against the wall of a nearby newsagent’s shop.

  Her legs began to shake, her lips trembled.

  The man stepped back. Raised his hands in an unthreatening manner.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock, but I don’t want to alarm you, or hurt you, Lucinda. That person you knew all those years ago is dead. Gone.’

  She stared into Stefan’s face. He’d put on weight. He wasn’t fat, but there was now a soft padding on what used to be taut, defined muscles and sharp features.

  He looked back at her. The intensity had gone from his eyes; she could find no trace of the old pent-up aggression.

  Still, she was unable to speak.

  ‘Couldn’t believe my luck when I saw your photo in the paper… you’re the wedding planner here,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘I’m working locally, just for a few weeks, and I… I felt compelled to seek you out, Lucinda. To say that I am truly, truly sorry for what happened.’

  She nodded, hoped he’d turn around and go away. Her mouth and throat felt so dry, she felt like she might choke if she uttered a sound. Damn that bloody newspaper advert.

  ‘Look, can we grab a quick coffee? No strings attached.’ He looked nervous, concerned, but the mask of hatred on his face was still as fresh in her mind as the day she witnessed it. ‘Just so I can explain,’ he continued. ‘So I can say sorry properly and make peace with you. What do you say?’

  She couldn’t afford a scene, not here outside her workplace. No one must ever know about Stefan O’Hara and what had happened in his bedsit.

  ‘I could have come here and caused trouble at any time, Lucinda. But I’m here today not to confront you, but to offer an olive branch.’

  He seemed reasonable, regretful even, but she still felt he wouldn’t like it if he thought she’d snubbed him. There was a small, grubby café just a couple of streets away that nobody she worked with would entertain using. She supposed they could go there.

  ‘I’ve only got twenty minutes until I have to go for my bus,’ she said, as confidently as she could manage. Her voice sounded raw, as if she’d been screaming, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice. ‘There’s a café I know…’

  ‘Lead the way.’ He smiled, stepping closer to her but taking care not to touch her. ‘Am I OK to leave the van parked here?’

  He indicated a small, white van in the hotel car park and she nodded, hoping Vincent, the over-zealous parking attendant, had already left.

  As they walked, Stefan spoke about why he was in Nottingham.

  ‘I’ve worked with young offenders for the past few years,’ he said. ‘Unbelievably, I’ve never had a criminal record myself, but I felt… well, under the circumstances, I thought I ought to try and give something back, you know?’

  He glanced at her and she nodded curtly. She did know. Only too well.

  ‘They’re setting up a facility in Nottingham and asked me to oversee certain processes, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to try to put something else straight too. If I could find you.’

  He was talking in riddles and Lucie felt glad of it. She didn’t want to face hearing the truth she’d denied and hidden for so long. It seemed Stefan didn’t either.

  They arrived at the café.

  ‘Oh dear.’ He looked at the peeling paint and scuffed door. ‘Can’t imagine you frequent this place much, but there’ll be nobody you know in here, right?’

  She bit her tongue and pushed open the door. He was still good at seeing right through her, even after so many years.

  Stefan insisted on getting the coffees, and smiled as he put down two mugs on the sticky Formica tabletop.

  ‘At least they make the choice easy here. No debating over lattes or cappuccinos; it’s with milk or without milk and that’s about your lot.’

  ‘As basic as it gets,’ she agreed, keeping her eyes on the steaming mug.

  ‘Still. I haven’t come for the coffee; I’ve come to make peace with you.’ He picked up his own drink and took a hesitant slurp. ‘I left university that year, you know. I just went. Slept rough, hitchhiked around the country, lived in Edinburgh, Falmouth, Stoke. Alcohol got me through, but it was a blessing in disguise, because that’s why I’m here.’

  Lucie looked at him, waiting for more. She saw him glance at her engagement ring and was thankful when he didn’t comment.

  ‘I’m a recovering alcoholic, Lucinda. At my lowest point, I joined Alcoholics Anonymous and they saved my life. As part of my treatment I’ve had to contact the people I’ve hurt either intentionally or otherwise and apologise to them. There’s just one person left I need to speak to, and that’s you.’

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back.

  ‘What about Rhonda’s family? Have you apologised to them? All these years of not knowing what happened to their daughter…’

  He looked down at the table and sighed.

  ‘That’s not been possible. I told you at the time she was estranged from her family. I still suffer from PTSD because of it. I think about it… about her every day. I think about you and how you’ve never said a word. You stayed true to me.’

  ‘Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. Because of your threats.’

  ‘I’m so, so sorry, Lucinda, for what I did. I am truly ashamed. I’ll never get over it, and I doubt you will either.’ This time he grabbed her hand and held it fast. ‘Do you hear me? I am sorry, for what I did and for how you suffered. Will you accept my apology?’

  Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she refused to let them show. She pressed her toes into her shoes and thought about the solid floor beneath them. She could and would get through this and hope never to set eyes on Stefan O’Hara again.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I forgive you.’

  ‘You don’t know how happy that makes me feel.’ To her surprise, tears fell freely from his eyes and splashed into his coffee. ‘Thank you. Thank you for finding it in your heart.’

  She pushed her chair back and stood up.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Stefan, but I have to go. It must have been difficult for you to come here, and I appreciate it. I do. But I can’t handle going back there, you see. I just can’t.’

  He stood up too. ‘I understand. Truly I do.’


  They left the café together and he said he’d walk with her to the bus station. She felt hot and panicky inside. She just wanted him to go away.

  Questions began popping up in her mind. What had happened to Rhonda’s body? Had her family eventually come looking for her?

  Lucie had searched online, even called the local newspapers in Newcastle to ask if there’d been reports of a missing female student, but there had been nothing.

  She wanted him to answer all the questions she still had but she couldn’t handle talking about it with him. The questions remained unvoiced.

  ‘Have you got your own place now then?’ he asked her.

  ‘No, I’m still at Dad’s, but not for long.’ She wanted to kick herself when she said that and his eyes settled on her engagement ring.

  ‘Looks like someone’s got lucky. When are you tying the knot?’

  ‘We haven’t actually set a date yet,’ she said. It seemed natural to lie. To keep him at arm’s length.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t turn up at the wedding.’ He grinned. ‘Doing the job you do, you’ll surely have everything planned out to the nth degree. So, when is the big day?’

  ‘Next month,’ she said in a small voice and immediately felt angry with herself that she’d caved in.

  He stopped walking and stared at her.

  She felt herself tense up. Was he going to turn nasty when he realised she’d found happiness?

  He looked up and swallowed. ‘I never loved anyone like you, Lucinda, I want you to know that. But I’m so happy for you. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world.’

  She took a sharp breath in; his kind words had come as a real shock.

  ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say.

  And that was it. Five minutes later, she got on her bus, and Stefan waved and walked out of her life for good.

  Or so she thought.