Logging - Nick Spalding Page 0,61

Afghan hound while my pubic hair is on fire . . . but I fear I am now prepared to take that risk.

‘Great! Thanks, Andy! I’m really grateful you’re happy to help me out,’ Grace tells me, having no idea that she’s probably going to have to watch the Afghan hound defile me, and drive me to the hospital with third-degree burns.

‘No problem. Really happy to.’

‘Great.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So . . . how do you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Detox?’

‘Oh. I have a leaflet here somewhere . . .’

I go rummaging in the kitchen drawers and manage to find the annoying pamphlet Dr Hu gave me. ‘Here, have a look at this.’ I hand over ‘Digital Detoxing and You’, and while Grace reads it, I make us a fresh cup of tea.

By the time I plonk it down in front of her, she’s got to the end, and looks a bit sick.

‘That’s appalling,’ she says, handing it back. ‘Written by someone who is clearly a serial killer.’

This makes me laugh. ‘Yes, that’s what I thought. But if you can ignore the tone, the information is pretty much correct. It’s what I’ve been sticking to.’

Grace swallows hard and looks deeply worried.

I can sympathise. It’s exactly the same response I had when I first realised the extent of what the detox was.

‘Gosh. That’s . . . that’s everything, isn’t it?’ she says, pulling out a necklace from under her blouse. She starts to fiddle absently with the small golden locket hanging on the end of it.

‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘It’s a massive shock to the system, I can tell you.’

‘I feel a bit light-headed even considering it.’ Grace grimaces. ‘Don’t you feel . . . like . . . divorced from everything?’

‘Yep. It’s like you’ve had the world taken away from you. Or at least . . . that’s what it feels like at first.’

‘But it gets better?’

‘Ye-es,’ I say uncertainly. I want to be encouraging, but I also don’t want to barefaced lie to her.

‘OK, that’s good,’ Grace says, nodding. I’m not sure she really believes me, given the way she’s continuing to fiddle nervously with that locket.

‘What’s that?’ I ask, trying to change the conversation.

Grace looks down and laughs ruefully. ‘Sorry. It’s a habit I’ve picked up. Any time I’m feeling a bit on edge, I start twiddling with it. Probably shouldn’t. It’s very old.’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘It was my grandmother’s. When she died, it was passed down to my mother, and when she died, Megan had it. It came to me after . . . well . . .’

Oh, bloody hell. She’s lost so many people!

‘It’s very beautiful,’ I say, voice a little thick.

‘Thank you. It opens up.’ Grace plays with the clasp for a brief moment. Her hands are shaking as she does so. I guess that’s because she’s still digesting the horror of what the detox entails, but I’m sure there’s also an element of being nervous about sharing so much of herself with someone she’s only just met.

‘Here, these are pictures of Megan, Mum and Gran inside.’ Grace shows me the opened locket, and there are indeed tiny pictures of three very similar-looking raven-haired ladies. You can tell instantly that they are related to Grace from their features. ‘Gran’s picture was taken in the sixties, Mum’s in the eighties and Megan’s about a year before she died.’

‘It’s very nice. A . . . a nice thing for you to have.’

‘It’s my most precious thing. My family’s only heirloom.’ Grace smiles warmly as she closes the locket again and tucks it back in her blouse. ‘Megan named the coffee shop after it.’

‘Where’s your father?’ I ask, hoping against hope that she’s not about to tell me he’s dead as well. I’m finding all of this heartbreaking enough.

‘He lives in New Zealand. When Mum passed, it affected him deeply. He just . . . well . . . ran away.’

Oh, great. So, not dead. Just on the other side of the world.

Grace sees the expression on my face. ‘Don’t think badly of him, please. He’s honestly a good man . . . just not very strong. I still speak to him all the time on FaceTime.’ Grace’s eyes go wide. ‘Oh no! Would I still be able to do that if I’m on a detox?’

‘Yes! I’m sure!’ I reply quickly. ‘There are no real rules here, Grace. Just try to do what you can. And it’s only for a few weeks, anyway.’

‘Fair enough.’ I can see her visibly relax hearing this. ‘What about