Chapter Sixteen

[pippinmctaggart.livejournal.com]

Lyrics from Home Sweet Home by Peter Gabriel.




Clicking the send button, Grace finished off the last article of the day. She felt a little guilty for rushing through it, but she had promised Billy a detailed account of her day, and it was probably going to take some time. Especially since, in her usual manner, she was going to go a little further than he had probably intended. She grinned at the thought, and opened her email.

Tuesday
To: Billy
From: Grace
Subject: Is going home still braw?

Hi, deariest. Well, you've had a few days in your own home. Billy's pad. Boydworld. Billyland. The Billydome. Boyd Towers. (Okay, I'm done.) So, how is it?? I know you won't get this for a few days, and it'll be a while before you'll have a chance to answer, and knowing you you'll call me (I've got my money on tonight, but the odds are pretty good for tomorrow night too) and I'll hear all about it before you even get this, but… That was far too long. Where was I?

'Everything's braw'. You're adorable. That made me smile.

Never apologize for short emails. Know that I appreciate that you make the time at all when you're so busy.

You said you were going CD shopping when you got home. Have you had a chance? If so, what did you get?

Ooooh. Hot Scottish actor having a wet dream. Mmm.

Time out.

Okay, I'm back. (Tee hee.)

Guess what I received from L.A. on Friday? Some fantastically gorgeous stick people artwork. I've tacked it up on my wall, and just so you know, someday I'm going to have it framed. You have a real talent, there, m'boy.

Snowsurfing does sound good, doesn't it? I've never done it, but I'd love to try it someday. It's windsurfing on snow--usually on a lake or somewhere where the wind can pick up. Apparently you just fly--it looks amazing.

Yes, unfortunately when you tripped over the weird redhead on the beach, you tripped over a freakish little Lord of the Rings fan. Just be thankful I've stopped quoting it in conversation. 'Cos when I was younger, I used to, you know.

Cockles and Mussels--I'm sorry. But I promise I won't apologize. Rats, that's dropped my batting average. Now I'm only--what? 14 for 15? I'll have to work on it.

All right, Mr. Boyd. You want detail? You want a day in the life of? You got it. (You'll regret it, but you've got it.) I'll go with yesterday (Monday).

I woke up around 8:30. Stayed in bed until nine like the lazy arse I am, just thinking about stuff. What was the weather supposed to be like, would Jamie still want to go out like he said he would, what were you doing at that very moment (2 pm Monday. I want to know.), what groceries did I need, where the fuck was my thumb ring. You know, important issues with which to start your day. I finally dragged myself out of bed, had a shower (fruity shampoo and strawberry body wash--how's that for detail?), and brushed my teeth. I turned on the TV to the weather network to see if it was a walking day. Saw some international weather (Glasgow 4 degrees and raining--sorry, pet), then ours (-5 and sunny, perfect for walking). Put oatmeal on for breakfast since it was a walking day. While it cooked, I popped in a Pilates tape and did a 20-minute set, plus some extras. Ab work. Unfortunately, I may be bendy, but I still can't find my abs. Am intrepid explorer. Will continue to try and discover where they went.

Put oatmeal in surfer-girl bowl (happy?), sat down to watch Bugs Bunny. I often watch cartoons in the morning, they make me smile (Looney Tunes, especially). Besides, I don't like watching news programmes before I start work. If I'm reading the same story I've heard on TV, my brain can sometimes play tricks on me. Like thinking I've already pulled out a tag, when I haven't, I just heard it on the TV.

Finished my breakfast, watched the end of Bugs (a favourite--the Barber of Seville--love it). We're up to 10:30. (You said you wanted detail!) Turned on the computer, started the timeclock, worked for two hours. I normally start a little earlier if I'm planning on going for a walk, but as I said, I was a lazy arse on Monday. And guess what I came across in one of the entertainment sections? That's right, an article on Rings. And guess whose name came up? You got it. I turned you into a meta-tag yesterday, Billy. Did you feel it? For a single, brief moment you came under my professional fingers. It's not the first LoTR article I've done, obviously, but it's the first with your name in it since we met. It was very thrilling.

Finished four papers, quit for a while. Walked down the street to a couple shops for groceries (milk, cheese, bread, pasta, stuff to make marinara, salad, fruit). Took groceries home, put them away, had lunch (sandwich and an apple), made a cup of tea and worked for another couple hours. Went for my walk. Hiked way too many blocks to the park, only to sit on a bench exhausted. Will have to find closer park. No problem, though--am intrepid explorer, remember?

Finally made it back to the double-poxed shoebox. Called Jamie, who had forgotten he'd said anything at all about going out. Called him a selfish bastard. It worked, he begged to take me out for a drink. I reluctantly agreed. Aren't I terrible? But really, he deserves it. Such a flibbertigibbet.

Did another couple hours of work. Made my fan-fucking-tastic marinara for dinner. I'm not a very good cook, but I've got marinara nailed. Marinara and oatmeal--what more does a person need, really?

While it cooked, I spent some time tearing this nasty-ass place apart looking for my thumb ring. Finally found it behind the toilet. I must have taken it off to shower or something, and it rolled (or those fucking pipes vibrated it) off. It's been missing for a few days now, so I'm very glad to have found it.

Ate dinner (marinara on linguine, salad), watched some local news. Played my guitar for a bit. Then went to meet Jamie. Walked the few blocks to the pub, and it was freaking cold. The temperature really dropped after dark. I couldn't feel my face by the time I got there. I know walking everywhere is good for me, but if I'd known it was going to be that cold, I would have taken the damn subway. Jamie was late (as per usual). We had coffee first to warm me up, then I had a beer (Sleeman's Steam Ale). We talked for ages--his work, mine, his new sexmobile (a minivan), a mutual friend that just had a baby, his brother (who I went to university with), music--all the usuals. We played best 2 out of 3 on the pool table (Jamie 2, Grace 1--but at least I won one!) and I had another beer. We talked a little longer, and then I walked home. I know, I know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And at least the beer kept me a little warmer. Or maybe I was just walking with the wind, I don't know. It was good--it was the first time I've been out and had a couple drinks since I went dancing with you & Elijah. Hmm. That sounds rather pathetic, doesn't it? Ah well. C'est la vie. (See? I'm bilingual.)

When I got home I watched a bit of TV, then I played on the internet for a bit. Found a new Peter Gabriel site, which made me happy. And finally, I went to bed.

So that, my deariest, is a day in the life of Grace MacPherson. Hopefully that has cured you of your desire for detail!

Well, now that I have carpal tunnel syndrome from typing this email, I'm going to quit. I hope you're having a good time in your new home. I can't wait to hear all about it--probably tonight, unless I miss my guess. Email me when you can.

Missing you heaps,
Grace


Having completed her email to Billy, Grace decided she'd better double-check that last paper she'd worked on, afraid that maybe she hadn't done a thorough job on it in her haste to finish. It was still a little too early for her supper of leftover marinara anyway.

Half an hour later, she had just re-sent the final article and was shutting down her laptop when the phone rang.


"Hello?"

"Hey, Grace."

"Hiya, Billy. How are you?" she asked, smiling.

"I'm good--you?" There was a smile in his voice, as well.

"Good. I had my money on the right night."

"Sorry?"

"Never mind--you'll have to wait for the email. So," she said, grinning, "where are you calling from?"

He sounded happy, his voice full of pride as he said, "I'm coming tae ye live, direct from the Copacabana Lounge of Billy's Blue Flamingo Palace."

She laughed. "You didn't tell me you were moving to Vegas. Billy's Blue Flamingo Palace, eh? I have to admit I didn't think of that one. Very chi-chi."

"Ye want chi-chi, ye should see it when the dancing girls go through."

"Did Girlz! Girlz! Girlz! get back together just for you?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. They couldn't hack it solo, had tae reunite. It's like a made-for-TV movie around here."

She giggled delightedly. "Just make sure it's suitable for network viewing. Enough already! How is it?"

"How's what?"

"Twit." She pushed her chair back, leaned back and propped her feet on the desk, taking care not to kick her laptop.

He laughed again, unable to contain himself. "It's fan-bloody-tastic, luv. I've got a lot of work I want tae do, but just the fact that it's mine and there's no one else here--it's like having a secret hideout again. Like I'm fourteen again, and trying not tae get caught drinking by my Gran."

"Just as long as you don't get caught playing 'I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours' with--what was her name again?" she teased.

He sighed, said fondly, reminiscently, "Wee Sally Ross. A sturdy young lass, but very kind. Not a single snigger passed her lips. I remember I was eleven. I gave her my Princess Leia action figure."

Grace's voice shook at his wistful tone, but she managed, "Now that's love."

"Aye. Of course, it's not like I was going tae be caught dead playing with Princess Leia anyway. I would have gotten the shite kicked out of me."

"I'm glad it all worked out for you."

"Me too."

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you planning on telling me anything about your house?"

"Palace," he teased.

"Sorry--palace?" she chuckled.

"What do ye want tae know?"

"Everything!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Start talking!"

"Well, I'm on a quiet little road. I'm outside the city proper, so I'm going tae have tae buy a car. I've rented one for now," he told her.

It sounded to Grace like Billy was pacing. "Where are you right now?" she asked.

"My kitchen."

"Go to your front door."

"All right," he smiled with anticipation. "Why?"

"Just go."

"Okay… All right, I'm there."

"Open the door and tell me what you see," she instructed. She heard him comply, snicking back the lock.

"It's dark, so not much. Two steps down tae a gravel walk, which leads tae the gravel drive. Some shrubs on either side of the walk. There's a low stone wall across the front of the property, with the road right beyond it." The pleasure in his voice was plain.

"Sounds lovely," Grace said. She got up from her desk, moved to her sofa and curled up in the corner, pulling a blanket over her lap. "What does the outside of the house look like?"

"It's stone. Limestone? Sandstone?" he wondered aloud. "I'm not sure. Warm, yellowish coloured stone, though. With stone and wood trim, and a steep little slate roof, and two ridiculously tall stone chimneys. And little--what do ye call them? Finials? On the peaks. The front door is white, surrounded by lots of trim. I haven't decided yet if I'll paint it another colour or not."

"It sounds straight out of a fairy tale," Grace smiled. "How old is it?"

"It was built in 1864, but it's all modernized inside. I think it looks more like a movie set than a fairy tale."

"Ah, now that makes sense," she laughed. "And what's around you? More houses?"

"No. This is the best part, Grace. Trees. Nothing but grass and trees. I have neighbours just down the road on either side, but I am surrounded, past the lawn, by forest." The relief, satisfaction, and joy in his voice would fade, she knew, as the novelty of living there wore off, but for now he was enthralled, and it captivated her.

"Tell me about it."

"I've only been here three days, and I've already gone for a tramp twice. It's not a big forest, but it's fantastic. In one direction it's almost all deciduous, and it's very light and open and a pleasant sunny little stroll. In the other direction, it must be older, or something. And there's more fir trees. But it's dark and close, and if I didn't know it was in southern Scotland, it would seem downright sinister. It's fucking amazing."

"It sounds incredible. How close are the trees to your house? How big is the lawn?"

"Well, one side of the house has the drive, lined by a row of privet. Then there's a stretch--maybe ten, fifteen feet?--of grass, and then the trees." He tried to describe it accurately for her, knowing she was attempting to build a picture in her mind. "The drive leads behind the house tae the garage. It's made of the same stone as the house, and is big enough for a car and tae store a bit of junk. Right behind the house is a stone patio, off the kitchen. Past that, it's probably…fifty, or a hundred feet of grass, then trees again. It's about the same on the other side. I'm going tae have tae contract in some landscapers, I just won't be here enough tae look after the lawn properly."

"Sounds like a good plan. Is that it for the outside?"

He thought for a moment. "I think it is, yeah."

"All right. Now turn around." She leaned her head back against the sofa. "Starting at the front door, give me the grand tour. Pretend I'm there with you."

"Oh, but ye are," he said softly.

"Billy--" She closed her eyes.

"It's true. But all right. There's a wee hallway with a closet at the end, facing me, and a door tae the right."

"What colour is it painted?"

"Beige. Practically the whole sodding house is beige--except for the bathroom, but I'll get there in a minute," he said, amused. "Most of it's going tae go. I was going tae paint myself, but there's too much, so the painters are in next week. I'm having the hall floor redone at the same time--right now it's tile, but it's cracked and there are pieces missing. I'm having flagstone put in."

"Perfect. What's through the door to the right?"

"The sitting room." She could hear him moving into it. "It's beige, with a pine door and trim. At the front of the house is a huge bay window area, and it's all surrounded in pine."

"That sounds gorgeous." She suddenly sang a few lines of a song.

From my Home Sweet Home, home sweet home
just a place to take a rest, just a place to make my nest
-- I call it my home

"I changed the lyrics slightly," she said, "but that came to mind. Peter Gabriel."

"Is there more?"

"Yes, but it doesn't apply here. It's actually a very sad song. Is there a window seat in the bay window?" she asked.

"No."

"That's too bad. A nineteenth-century home just begs for a window seat," she smiled.

"Ye know, I was actually thinking of putting one in," he admitted. "Dom's coming up at Christmas, I thought it might be fun tae build it."

"Yourself? I'm impressed. A do-it-yourselfer, are you?" she teased.

He laughed. "Not quite, no. But it's a bench, how hard could it be for two grown men?"

"Oh good Lord. I wish I was taping this conversation."

"All right, Miss Smartass," he grinned. "That'll be enough out of ye."

"Go on, then, " she snickered. "Carry on with the tour. What colour are you painting in here?"

"Well--" he hedged.

"You're painting it beige again, aren't you!"

"Dark beige. With a warm tinge, tae go with the pine. It'll be very den-like."

"Oh, that does sound nice. What colour is your furniture?"

"Brown leather."

"Perfect."

"Thank you," he chuckled. "So, at the back of the sitting room are the stairs and another door. Which way do ye want tae go?"

"Upstairs."

He climbed.

As he did, Grace asked, "How high are the ceilings?"

"Not very, as it's an older house. High enough for me, not necessarily for anyone over six feet, if they wanted tae go through doors or up the stairs and not bash their skulls," he grinned. "Now. We come up tae a wee landing. It's currently beige. I'm going tae paint it mauve."

"You're kidding."

"Yes. It's going tae be blue, with white trim. There's crown molding everywhere in this house, I love it. And the floor here is hardwood, which is grand. So, immediately tae your right is a tiny little shower room. It's white tile, so it can stay that way. Then there's the door tae the attic, which is just a bare bones storage room. Rafters and floor joists and all. Then we have the utility room, which will house the washer and dryer, as soon as they're delivered. It's getting a fresh coat of white paint. Ye with me so far?"

"I'm with you," she smiled.

"Then there's a wee closet, and then--opposite the stairs, now--is a bedroom. It has a nice big window, a small walk-in closet, and the most hideous wallpaper I've ever seen."

"What does it look like?"

"It's pink. With fruit on it, Grace. Fruit. It makes my teeth hurt, it's so sweet in here."

She laughed. "Yeah, that really has to go. What's on the windows?"

"Blinds, which are fine, and net curtains, which aren't. They're going too," he vowed. "There will be no net curtains in my house. Ever. This room is also going tae be blue, but darker than the landing."

"Navy?"

"Not quite. More like a dark…slate, I guess."

"Nice. How come there's no plaid in your house yet?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, there will be, don't ye worry. Possibly in this room, even, because I think there's a plaid that would look great with the blue. In which case, plaid curtains and bedspread."

"Excellent. Next?"

He walked back into the landing and through the last door. "Second bedroom. No closet, but it has a skylight. And a wee tiny window that looks out front. Guess what colour it is?"

"Hmm. Beige, by any chance?"

"Got it in one. It's going tae be red."

"Red?" she squeaked.

"Aye. For Dom, he loves red. So does Elijah, for that matter. So that's their room, when either comes tae visit."

"How do you sleep in a bright red room?"

"With very thick curtains," he grinned. "Besides, it won't be too bright. It's quite a dark red. The painters are starting up here, so I've already finalized all these colours. It's just downstairs I haven't quite decided on yet."

"So yours is the blue bedroom?"

"Tsk tsk. We're not done with the house yet, are we?" he reprimanded her teasingly.

"You have three bedrooms? Good grief, whatever are you going to do with all that space?"

"I'm going tae have people come stay with me," he said, suddenly quietly. "As often as possible."

"Oh--oh."

"Aye. All right," his voice perked up again. "On with the tour. This bedroom is also going to house my library. I'm going tae build bookshelves on either side of the wee window. I suppose library is far too grand a name," he suddenly laughed. "We'll just call it my book repository. My collection isn't big enough to deserve a library."

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"It's your house. You can call it whatever the hell you want," she grinned.

"Well now, that's very true, isn't it?" he said thoughtfully. "All right then. It's the Blue Flamingo branch of the Boyd Library."

"It should have a plaque," she averred.

He chuckled. "It should indeed. Okay, we're back downstairs now--"

"I thought you said there was another bedroom?"

"Who's conducting this tour? You or me?"

"I guess that would be you," she laughed.

"I guess it would," he said loftily. "So we're back in the sitting room. From here we go into a little--I don't even know what ye call it. A little square hallway, I guess. There are four doors that open off it. And it's in the centre of the house, so it's remarkably dark. I think I'll paint it a bright yellow."

"With white trim?"

"But of course."

"Excellent," she said happily. "I like your taste in colours."

"Thank you." He nearly choked on his reply, praying she would feel the same after she saw her newly decorated apartment at the end of January, if Elijah's plan worked out. Which reminded him, he really needed to call Elijah and get that ball rolling. He cleared his throat. "Left or right?"

"Umm…right."

"Tae the right is the bathroom. This will be my main bathroom."

"Is this the one that's not beige?"

"Very much so," he grinned. "As a matter of fact, it's white and bright mint green."

"Mint green?" she repeated faintly.

"Very mint."

"Oh bloody hell. Tell me you're not keeping that," she begged.

"We-ell…"

"Billy."

"God no. Far too circa-1952," he laughed. "It's going tae be dark green--forest, or hunter, or whatever the hell they call it this week. With the white tile to keep it from becoming a cave. There's a built-in claw-foot tub, so eventually I'll have a showerhead installed."

"With a plaid shower-curtain, right?"

"Did ye hear that? That was me rolling my eyes. All right, just for you, I'll get a plaid shower curtain," he chuckled.

She smiled happily. "Oh, good."

"All right, after the bathroom, we have the door into the kitchen. When ye first go in, immediately tae your right is a little mudroom, which leads outside. I'll be using this door most often, as the garage is in back there. The mudroom just has scaffy wood paneling, which I'll probably eventually replace, but I can't be arsed now."

"It's just a mudroom," she agreed.

"The kitchen isn't huge, but it's big enough. I'll be doing the most work in here, as I'm having the floor done, painting, and I'm tearing out a window."

"Tearing out a window?"

"Tae put a larger one in. One of the cupboards is coming out tae make room."

"And this is being done before the painters come?" she asked, confused.

He laughed. "No. It should be, I know, but I just came up with the idea today. It'll probably be next year before I get around to it."

"I see. And what about the floor?"

"It'll be flagstone, same as the front hall. But it'll have some sort of finish tae make it easy tae clean, apparently. I don't know, I was a little overwhelmed by that point."

"Wow. You've been busy. What happened to just hiding out and relaxing for a bit?"

He paused. Sheepishly said, "I know. It's just--I've been on the run for so long, it's hard tae just…stop. I'm slowing down gradually, though."

"Promise?" she asked quietly.

"Aye. Aye, dear heart, I promise."

"Okay. So what colour is the kitchen?"

"It's currently beige--"

"Of course it is. Silly of me, really."

He chuckled. "It was, yes. It's beige with glossy dark green tiles. I didn't like them at first, but they're growing on me. I think I'll keep them, and repaint the beige in something else. White, maybe, although then it'll look like the bathroom."

"You could always stick another colour in, on the cabinets or something," she suggested.

"Yes, I could do that I suppose. Maybe something more modern. What's modern?"

"I don't know… Steel?"

"Steel?" he asked, a little skeptical. "For cabinets?"

"Well," she amended, "painted. To look like brushed steel or something. I don't know, I'm not very good with interior design. Why don't you ask your painter what he thinks? I bet he'd come up with something really good," she suggested.

"I will, he's coming tomorrow. Hmm…brushed steel," he said thoughtfully. "I shall think about that one."

"Or you could always change the tiles."

"Augh! Now how am I supposed tae make up my mind?" he complained. "Cut that out!"

"Sorry," she laughed. "Perhaps you should move on with the tour."

"Yeah. Almost done anyway. So we just go back into the little hall--"

"Which will be yellow," she supplied.

"Which will be yellow. And we go through the last door and into my bedroom."

"Ah ha! There it is."

"Here it is. And it is the beigest room I've even seen in my fucking life," he grinned. "Beige carpet, beige walls, beige drapes--and my current duvet is beige."

"Wow. That's, like, the dullest room ever."

"Yeah, you're telling me. It's hard tae drag my arse out of bed. I just cease tae care about anything, I'm just sucked down into the vast nothingness that is beige."

"Oh, you'd better do something about that. What will the press say if you suddenly become Mr. Bland?"

"I'd worry more about what Aude would say," he grinned.

"No doubt. She might drop you for a more exciting client. So what are you going to do in there?"

"Well now, that all depends," he teased suggestively.

She flushed bright red, glad he couldn't see her. Was eternally grateful she hadn't chosen that moment to sigh, 'Fuck me'. Miracles never bloody cease, she thought.

"Paint, Mr. Boyd. What colour paint are you going to do in there?"

"Damn," he sighed with mock disappointment. "I was really hoping ye were going tae say 'Fuck--'"

"Well I didn't," she quickly interrupted him, her voice strangled.

"More's the pity. What do ye think of stripes?"

"Stripes?" she repeated, a little flustered.

"Yeah. Everything else in the house is just one plain colour. I think I want something different in here. I was thinking vertical stripes in some natural colours--green, taupe, gold. Or does that sound horrible?" he asked, unsure.

"It sounds a bit…I can't quite see it. Wide stripes or thin? And dark or pale colours?"

"I don't know, really. I don't think I want perfectly even stripes, though--so maybe all different widths?"

"Yeah, that would look good," she agreed. "And maybe nothing too dark, then, or it might be overwhelming. That sounds excellent." She was enthusiastic.

"All right," he said, pleased and encouraged. "I'll run that by the painters tomorrow too."

"Lovely. So is there a nice big window in there?"

"One, yes. Someday I might put in another, but it would mean knocking through the stone wall."

"Sounds tricky."

"Yes. So I'm leaving that for now. Other than that, there's two walk-in closets, and that's it."

"Oh Billy," she said warmly, smiling, "I'm so happy for you. It sounds wonderful."

"Yes, the walk-in closets are a real gem--"

"The house, you twit, the house."

"I know."