Time to Let Go Part 2
Happy New Year!
2024 was a year of such growth for me. I have left it as a very different person. I learned so much about myself and I’ve grown so much as a writer. Looking back some of those lessons were harder than others but that is life isn’t it? I have so much planned for this year already. 2025 is the year I become a published author. Whatever your plans for this year may it bring you health, joy and prosperity.
The finish line for the novel is in sight now and I’m looking forward to sharing snippets with you in the next few weeks. I’ve spent the holiday in a little bubble working through developmental edits and I am pleased with how the story is taking shape. I have line and copy editing up next to really polish the sentence structure and flow. I would also like to say a huge thank you to those who volunteered to beta read the novel, it will be with you soon!
I hope you enjoyed part one of Time to Let Go and I offer part two for your entertainment.
Part 2
Grace woke to the sun streaming in through the gap in the curtains with her head throbbing once again. This time it was the red wine to blame and she winced as she sat up. Louise had appeared at the door last night, no doubt dispatched by Anna, armed with a large pizza and 2 bottles of Merlot, Louise had claimed she needed to escape from the big football match whilst setting up camp at the table. They had talked about work, the weather and eventually the conversation came around to Grace. How she wasn't returning messages and how much they all missed her. Grace looked at her friend's creased brow and tried to smile reassuringly. She still wasn't ready to be in big groups and work kept her busy. Louise's arched brow showed she wasn't fooled but had decided to make a tactical withdrawal. Filling the glasses again Grace let the flow of news about their friends wash over her nodding at what she hoped were the right times. By the third glass of wine Grace felt woozy and glancing down the hallway at the clock she asked,
“Do you believe in ghosts Lou?”
“Are you being serious?” Louise responded, setting down her glass and leaning towards her friend.
Grace nodded.
“The clock keeps stopping at the same time and I thought I heard a voice...”
She tried to say more but her throat tightened. She cleared it. Louise enveloped her in a hug and murmured.
“Oh Grace. It must be so lonely for you. You've been through so much.”
It must be common in situations like this Louise had reasoned, probably lack of sleep and an old house. Had she mentioned it to her counsellor or the GP? Grace had tried to find the words to explain the face and the clock but her throat remained stuck. Mutely she had pulled back from her friend's embrace. Wonderful, Grace thought as she recalled the conversations from the previous night, now they would be watching her even more closely. She was not just sad but mad like one of the nameless women in a Victorian novel. A modern character lost in a Bronte story or Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca.
The door to the other bedroom was ajar again. The longing started deep in her chest and pulsed through her body. Grace lingered in the doorway, caught between her old life and her new. The chill of the hallway crept down her back whilst the scent of oak and leather from the furniture drew her in. She stepped forwards. Moving slowly around the room, she ran her hand over the side of the cot. Her father had wanted to clear this room but Anna had insisted that was something only Grace could do and only once she was ready. She sat in the nursing chair overlooking the midwinter frost of the garden and began to rock with the chair.
It was the shortest day today. For Grace, the longest night. The morning was cold and grey as if all colour in the world had seeped away in the night. Grace wondered if she could just fade with light too so she didn't have to face the world. A world first without Tom and then without their child. Her mind drifted back to listening in a daze as the Doctor explained that Tom couldn't survive his injuries. The damage was catastrophic. A red Skoda had mounted the pavement and pinned Tom to the building. A blowout, she'd been told, and nothing the driver could do. Anna and the family had gathered and she had sat rooted to the horrible green chair holding his hand. In the days that followed, she was gently manoeuvred through the process of arranging the funeral. Her family and friends rallied and narrowed it all down to simple choices. Numb she floated through the days and nights—never left alone.
It had been the day after the funeral when the shock wore off and the storm of her grief hit. Wave after wave of sobs had wracked her body until exhausted she had lain on the bed raging against the injustice of it all. Her future, their future, stolen. How could that be? How could he be gone? Grace couldn't begin to imagine what she, what they, would do without him. Her hand moved to her belly as the realisation dawned. When had she last felt the baby move?
The weeks that followed the baby's funeral were a blur of raw pain and anguish. Grace retreated into a cocoon and shut out the world. All offers of support were rebuffed and she became silent. Her voice gone, replaced by a constant lump in her throat. It was all she could do to breathe and it hurt to swallow. No matter how much those who loved implored her to talk to them, she couldn't. They didn't understand. She had no words. Only a bottomless scream of fear and fury and longing. If that escaped, what would be left? It was only when her wedding ring, now far too loose from her rapid weight loss, fell down the sink that the wave broke. Grace had howled and raged until she was empty. She had been sitting empty of emotion, cold and shocked on the kitchen floor when Anna found her. Too broken to resist, Grace allowed herself to be shepherded first to the GP and then to the psychiatrist.
Grace returned to the present, still in the rocking chair, in darkness. The house was silent. She had the strange sensation of being out of time and place. In the hallway the clock waited, and as Grace expected, so did the other woman. What question would be the right one? she wondered as she approached the clock. Running through the ritual of weighting the chains and starting the pendulum calmly Grace moved the hands from three minutes past three and shut the case. The light from the lamp cast the clock in shadow and although Grace couldn't see the reflection, she knew that she wasn't alone.
“Who are you? Grace asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“A friend.” The answer appeared directly into her head just as before. Grace repeated the name aloud.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Grace asked.
“This is not a life Grace. You are becoming a shadow.”
Grace shrugged.
“The time is coming that you must choose”. The woman's tone was level but Grace recoiled from the words as if she’d been slapped.
“Choose?” Grace spat the word out. “I didn't choose any of this. I don't want it. I want to wake up and this have been a nightmare. Can I just choose that?!”
“No. You cannot go back”, came the soft reply. “Nor can you stay here lost in grief and anger.”
“Why are you here?” Grace asked again.
The tick of the clock cut through the moment and Grace felt light headed as time came rushing back in. Taking a shuddering breath she felt as though she had surfaced from being underwater.
***
As Christmas approached, Grace prepared herself to face another first. The months since March were punctuated by these events. Her parents, Louise, Anna, and her friends made sure she didn't face them alone and called themselves her support crew. Although Grace knew she should be grateful, the support made each event feel like a test to be endured. She wanted to crawl into bed with the covers pulled over her head and wait until it had passed. Louise, at least, seemed to understand her desire to lose herself. On their wedding anniversary, Louise had helped her get so drunk that the room spun. Louise, ever the pragmatist, had curled up in the chair beside Grace, ready with a bucket. In the morning, Grace was woken with a can of Irn Bru and two aspirins before Louise handed the baton to her parents. Ever since the day Anna had found her on the kitchen floor Grace had been adamant she wouldn't take any antidepressants . Nor something to help her sleep. Dr Field, the psychiatrist, had suggested a number of options but each time Grace responded the same way. Would it bring them back? she had asked. No? Then no thank you, she wouldn't take them. The truth was simply that she didn't want the pain to leave. She couldn't bear the thought of it being dulled, of what might come next. Grace had agreed to the counselling sessions because her mum had been so desperate to see her accept help. It was here she had learned to use the little ritual of the clock as an anchor in the present.
Sitting in the living room, Grace remembered how excited Tom had been last Christmas. Once the first twelve weeks of pregnancy had passed they had started to dream and to plan. Sitting in front of the fire with mince pies, Grace laughed as Tom told her of his plans to have a real tree from then on and of the lego, bikes and telescopes that would one day sit under it. His enthusiasm carried on to the following day when they had visited the local garden centre.Tom selected a huge eight foot tall Norway Spruce tree despite her protests that it wouldn't fit. Upon getting it home, they discovered that Grace was indeed correct and Tom had to cut the top foot off so it could stand. It took four strings of coloured fairy lights to achieve the desired level of magic Tom wanted. He had to get the ladders out to put the star on the top because the tree was so wide.
Now, the emptiness struck Grace. Other than a few gifts for Eilidh and Angus, which sat wrapped on the table, and the cards on the window sills, there were no festive decorations. She was just too tired to make the effort. The clock had stopped again and she rose wearily to start it.
Steel grey eyes greeted Grace in the reflection and the woman acknowledged her with a nod. This time, Grace was ready with her question.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“To help” She responded simply.
“Are you my fairy godmother?” she asked “Or a ghost?”
The woman threw back her head and let out a rich, full laugh. “Neither and both. It is hard to explain.”
Studying the other woman, it was hard to pinpoint her age. The laugh lines around her eyes and mouth suggested she was older but her smooth forehead and bright eyes were those of a woman in her prime.
“That isn't particularly helpful, I know”, the woman conceded,” I'm here because you need me and I'll leave when you no longer do.”
“Not big on explanations then,” Grace noted. “What help do you think I need?”
“What help do you think you need? That is what matters.”
Grace paused, holding a long breath. She let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging, then whispered, “I don't know how to live like this.”
The other woman’s expression changed, all trace of humour gone and replaced by a look of sorrow and compassion that connected directly into Grace's heart. She felt the lump rise in her throat.
“You can't Grace”, came the soft reply, “this isn't living. You have to choose.”
Tears welled and stung her eyes. Grace shook her head, unable to find her voice to reply. As the tears began to roll down her face, she squeezed her eyes closed.
When she opened them, the face was gone.
***
Grace made it through Christmas and to Hogmanay. Having been out with her friends to the local pub, she had made her excuses shortly after the bells and left. The celebrations were too much for her and she felt so detached from the excitement and resolutions. She sat silent in the kitchen contemplating the passing of the old year and all it had taken from her. I'm stuck here, she thought, just passing time. How do I go on? What is there to live for?
She felt insubstantial, like mist that would burn away in the morning sunshine. The clock struck and three clear chimes rang through the house. Grace moved to face it. How easy it would be to just let go, to stop time and cease to be. She stared at her own reflection. The clock reached three minutes past three and stopped as Grace had known it would. It was time now. The old made way for the new. As the echo of the last tick faded Grace watched the reflection ripple. The other woman waited, her expression calm, as Grace drew a long, slow breath in.
“What do I do?” Grace asked uncertainly.
“You just need to choose Grace”, she said,” there is nothing to fear. Either take my hand and step through or stay there and move forwards.”
Grace pressed her hand to the glass and met the other woman’s outstretched palm. The memories came rushing through her mind like a film on fast forward. Grace and Tom’s first kiss, their wedding and hearing the baby's heart beat. The joy, the excitement, the love all swirled around her like a vortex. Grace remained calm in the centre, feeling the pulse of energy from the other woman's hand. She saw herself as she had been with him. Then saw herself now reflected in the woman's steady gaze. A shadow, a ghost in her own life, haunted by a future that no longer existed. She made her decision and let go. Her hand dropped to her side. With a whoosh of wind that lifted her hair, the present returned.
As it started to get dark, a key turned in the lock. Grace came down the stairs as Anna struggled out of her coat and boots. They made their way to the kitchen.
“Oh, your clock has stopped love,” Anna called, “It’s saying it’s ten past three”.
“Yes,” Grace replied with her back turned. “It hasn't been keeping the right time of late. Maybe it's the pylon...” There was a hint of mischief in her voice now.
Anna appeared surprised by the change in Grace’s voice and gave her a long look. Over Anna;s shoulder Grace could see herself reflected in the window. With the chestnut hair pulled back in a low ponytail and skin a little brighter she was more vibrant. But it was her eyes, the beautiful colour of a stormy sea, that had changed the most. Light had returned and for the first time in months she felt alive.
Photo Credit @Jaanus
