Day Two
Sara
I called in sick today. I could hear Sharon’s fake sympathy down the phone, but I know she wasn’t impressed. I can picture her sitting on her stupid swivel chair, staring up at the timetable and rolling her eyes.
I’ve managed to get out of bed at least, daytime TV playing while I feed Goose the last of the tuna that I found at the back of the cupboard. There is no bread or cereal left, so I munch on a few dry biscuits while I watch a posh politician try to convince the bright, bubbly TV presenter that he sympathises about the latest housing crisis. The biscuit crumbs lodge in the back of my throat.
When my phone rings, I consider ignoring it but then see it’s Jess. She’s probably picking up extra flack at work because of me not going in, so guilt makes me pick up.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ Jess’s voice is gentle. ‘Are you OK? Sharon told me you’re poorly.’
She has the decency to leave out the word again and I’m grateful. I turn down the TV volume and flop back on the sofa, Goose curling up next me, my personal hot water bottle.
I like Jess; she is sweet and fun and doesn’t really give a shit about anything. She’s only a couple of years younger than me but seems a lot more somehow. I think it’s because she’s so petite and skinny, like a fragile little doll. The first mistake I made was assuming that she was delicate and needed looking after. On one of our first shifts together, Jess showed me how strong and tough she was, easily manoeuvring patients into the hoists and practically running between floors. At break times we would have a quick drink and compare lives. We both had quite tough upbringings – Jess had lived on an estate just across the way from me, and her dad had been a violent piece of work. She’d quickly learnt to be savvy and thick-skinned in a tough world.
My current problem is that Jess is looking for a friend and, while I understand that, this isn’t something I could ever offer her. I already had a best mate. Once upon a time I had two. I’m not interested in replacing those people.
‘Sara?’ Jess asks, breaking my train of thought. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes, sorry. I was just sorting the cat out.’
Goose stretches out a paw and glares at me, like she knows I’m lying.
‘I wanted to know how yesterday went? The funeral…’ She pauses. ‘I understand it would’ve been hard.’
Hard. That’s one word for it. I sigh and try to ignore the burning feeling that is ripping through my skin. ‘It was OK. It went as well as it could. To be honest, I didn’t stay long.’
Thinking back to yesterday physically hurts; my chest constricts and my heart thumps hard. I couldn’t bear to stay. As soon as the service was over, I’d rushed out into the fresh air. The sun had been too hot, and I’d felt suddenly dizzy and sweaty in the courtyard. I couldn’t stand to hear the sad voices as people drifted out, I hated the way their expressions softened once they saw me.
Even Erica had been quite sweet, walking over and touching my arm briefly. ‘Will you come to the wake? It’s just a small thing at our house?’
‘I–I don’t think I can…’
She had patted me, like I was a small dog. ‘I’d like you to come, Sara. There’s something I need to show you.’
I was about to answer, to offer poor excuses, when a small crowd of relatives came towards Erica and took her to one side. I found myself pulling away and beginning to walk out of the grounds. I was desperate to get back to the safety of my flat and didn’t want to be in Erica’s house. I didn’t want to be where Lottie spent her last days. Everything was too painful, just being here was too much.
‘Sara?’
I turned.
Jay was on the path behind me. He looked destroyed. He’d clearly been crying. His skin had an unhealthy grey hue, his eyes and nose red, even his hair looked flat and lifeless. It was all I could do not to run into his arms and bury my face in his chest.
‘Sara,’ he said again. ‘I wanted to talk. I’m staying at my Mum’s for a bit. It feels wrong to go back straight away.’
I shook my head. I couldn’t. I could barely look at him, let alone speak to him. ‘I’m sorry, Jay…’ I replied, my voice splintering. ‘I–I can’t.’ His expression twisted, his mouth opening to protest but I wasn’t interested. ‘Leave me alone, Jay, please. I don’t want to see you again.’
I walked away and he didn’t stop me. It felt like my heart was breaking all over again.
‘But you got through it. That’s the main thing,’ Jess says now, snapping me back into the present.
I run my hand over Goose’s soft fur and let myself relax a little. My eyes are dry from lack of sleep and my body hurts all over, but Jess is right: the worst is over in some ways. I don’t have to face Erica again, or Jay. The only problem is, what happens next? I can’t simply move on. I feel like I’m stuck in limbo.
‘I’m here if you need to talk,’ Jess continues. ‘When you come back to work, we can grab a coffee and you can lean on me if you need to, OK? And please don’t worry about Sharon. She’s told me to tell you not to worry. She said to do something nice. Take the opportunity to get your head together.’
‘Something nice? I’m not sure what that’ll be, Jess. I’m broke and feeling shit.’
‘It doesn’t have to be anything major. Take a long walk somewhere or watch a soppy film. I dunno – just do the stuff you like doing.’
I nod, like I’m agreeing with her, but I’m not. The things I’d liked doing involved Lottie and it wouldn’t feel right to do them without her. Maybe I’ll just sleep. I’ll sleep this whole nightmare away and everything will feel better. I like sleeping.
‘Call me whenever you need to,’ she says softly. ‘I’m right here waiting.’
‘Thanks, I will,’ I reply.
‘Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She pauses. ‘It will be better soon. I promise.’
But it’s another lie, and we both know it.
The truth is, I like work normally. I love our little care home with the range of residents and their ever-changing needs. I like chatting to them as I wash and dress them and make them feel good about themselves. It’s a special job, and although it’s pressured and kills my back, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Lottie always used to laugh at me. She never understood the appeal of being around old people all day. Lottie had an exciting job working for her dad’s car firm. She was paid well and always dressed the best. I think she would’ve lasted about twenty minutes on one of my shifts.
‘I can help get you a job,’ she told me. ‘With your travel experience and writing ability, you’re wasted there. You could be working in journalism, or publishing. My dad has contacts. Or you should be doing something with your art – you’re so talented.’
I scoffed. As much as I still harboured a dream to pick up my art again, I knew that was just what it was – a dream.
Besides, I was happy enough. Lottie didn’t understand the thrill I got spending time with my favourite residents. How I loved feeding George his dinner and listening to his war stories, or how I would take Esme for a walk and let her chat about her days as a ballet dancer. My favourite though (and this was naughty of me, as I wasn’t supposed to have favourites) was sitting with Derek while he talked about his life. He had such interesting and exciting tales – it was like I could escape into different worlds for a while.
‘Don’t you get bored listening to them going on?’ Lottie had asked me.
‘No, never. It’s a privilege to hear their stories,’ I told her.
I thought of Derek now and a stab of sadness shot through me. He was quite poorly, his cancer having spread to his bones. He wouldn’t talk to anyone else, saying Jess was too ‘daft’ and Sharon too ‘snappy’. The other staff members didn’t even register on his radar. Derek liked me because he said he saw something in me.
‘You understand what other people have gone through. You have empathy.’
I wasn’t sure if he was right about that, but I didn’t argue. I was just honoured that he felt I was worthy of listening to his stories.
And yet, here I am, sitting on my sofa, staring at a daytime TV show about house repairs that I have no interest in, when I could be with Derek and the others.
‘You could go,’ I hear Lottie say in her matter-of-fact way. ‘Nothing will change if you stay here mouldering.’
I think of Derek’s sad eyes and the fact that he is suffering the same way my friend was. There is no way I can face that now.
‘Just one more day,’ I whisper into the air. ‘Just one more day and I’ll be OK.’
Goose mews softly beside me. She always knows when I’m talking rubbish.
The rest of my morning passes without much event. My letterbox rattles and a few bills flutter onto the doormat. There is one card that I open reluctantly. It’s from Dec. I’m surprised he knew my address, but then I remember we swapped details the last time we caught up – when Dec had come for a flying visit three Christmases ago. He lives in America now. The card is a sweet one, with a cat on the front, and I’m grateful for this touch; it looks a little like Goose. Inside, Declan’s message is short and sweet.
Hey Sara,
I’ve been thinking of you all. I only spoke to Lottie a few weeks ago, it’s such a shock this happened so quickly. It feels so wrong and unjust.
I’m sorry I can’t be there for the funeral. Jamie is due to give birth any day now and I can’t leave her, I hope you understand.
I tried calling, but I appreciate you might not want to talk at the moment. When you are ready, give me a call? I’d love to catch up. There’s a spare room in LA if you ever need it.
I did speak to Jay a few days ago. He was in bits. I really think you two need each other right now, more than ever.
Love you,
Dec
I read it a few times and then cast it to one side on the table. It’ll sit with the others on the pile, collecting dust. Dec is lovely and I miss him with all my heart, but that guy is far too soft. He thinks things can be resolved so easily, that mistakes from the past can be erased like I’m holding a magic wand. Just the thought of contacting Jay makes my heart feel as though a hand is clutching it too tight beneath my ribs.
I go back to my mindless TV and the warmth of Goose and try to shut out my thoughts.
Later, I eat some soup that I’ve found at the back of the cupboard and stare out of the window. It’s another hot day and the sun is blazing through the glass. I watch as people walk on the pavements below, girls wearing pretty summer dresses, guys dressed in shorts and loose-fitting shirts. Cars drive past with their windows rolled down, music blaring through.
Lottie loved the summer. She hated being inside on a nice day, she would call it a waste. If she was here right now, she would grab my hand and drag me out into the sunshine. ‘Let’s get some rays onto that pale skin. It’s good for you.’
I’ve always been more of a winter girl. I like comfy jumpers and long, dark nights. Maybe that’s why Lottie and I worked so well in the end; we were total opposites of one another. Fire and ice. Summer and winter. Sun and moon.
I draw the curtains against the heat and step away. I’m not ready to face the brightness yet.
I pick up my phone instead.
There are three text messages waiting for me. The first is from Sharon, hoping I’m OK and reiterating that I can take a couple of weeks off work if I need it. It’s very tempting, but I don’t reply straight away. After all, what am I going to do with my time? Sit around the flat feeling sorry for myself? Surely keeping busy would be the best thing to do, it’s always helped me in the past.
The next message is from Tyler. I can’t say that my heart lifts reading his words; if anything my stomach shrinks a little.
Hey sexy, we need to hook up soon. Thinking of you.
Txt me
Xx
I immediately delete it. I don’t have the headspace for Tyler right now. There’s no denying that he could be a useful distraction, but I can’t face him. Maybe later, but not yet… The last message is much more of a surprise. As I open it, I can feel my skin cool a little. A scowl settles as I read the words. It’s all I can do not to throw the phone across the room.
Hi Sara.
I know what you said yesterday, and I get it, I really do.
But I need to speak to you. There’s things you need to know.
Can we meet?
Jay
Irritation prickles throughout my body. What the hell is Jay going on about? I re-read the words again. Does he really, honestly think that talking about things will make everything better? The cheek of him makes me want to laugh.
If this had been a few years ago, yeah, I might have listened because then it was only me he ended up hurting. However, I still can’t get out of my head the image of Lottie crying. Of her pulling me into a hug and whispering the words, ‘He’s left me. He doesn’t want me any more.’
Jay left Lottie just months before her diagnosis. Sometimes I think it was a blessing because Lottie was spared from a man who clearly didn’t love her. Someone who moved far away and didn’t even bother to check how she was. I should have known better after what he did to me, but I guess there’s no fool like an old fool.
I quickly delete his message too. This is his guilt kicking in, it has to be. He wants to meet with me and be absolved for his shitty behaviour. He wants his oldest friend to hug him and tell him everything is going to be all right, just like I always used to. Well, he can think again. I am not prepared to play that game. Not again.
Now Lottie is gone, what’s the point of holding onto the past? Everything has changed now. We have no need for each other. Unlike what Dec believes, I can’t act like nothing happened. Nothing is ever going to be the same again. It’s just something I have to come to terms with.
I’ve just thrown the phone back onto the table when my doorbell rings. I freeze, puzzled. No one comes here. I’m not expecting visitors and the thought of having to face another human makes me feel slightly queasy.
Pulling the dressing gown tighter around my body, I pad to the front door and open it cautiously, gasping when I see who it is. Erica. Sour-faced and clutching what looks like a beautifully wrapped present, complete with bow and curly ribbons. It’s not my birthday and even if it was, Erica would be the last person to come and celebrate it with me.
‘Erica…’ I say, my voice catching. ‘I didn’t expect to see—’
‘I’m not stopping.’ Her reply is as curt as always. Her small eyes, sharp like cut diamonds, blaze through me. ‘I can assure you this is the last place I want to be.’
Even as my body wants to curl up protectively, I pull back my shoulders, trying to channel defiance. I never want Erica to see the effect she has on me.
‘I have something for you,’ she says bluntly. ‘It’s from Lottie.’
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I don’t really understand what she means. Lottie is dead. Is this some kind of sick joke?
‘I would have given it to you yesterday, but you rushed off.’ Her eyes fix on mine. ‘It was a difficult day, I get it. But I thought, maybe—’ She shakes her head. ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.’ She shoves the box in my hands. It feels quite light; the paper is silky smooth. I swear, and this might be my imagination, that I can smell the scent of Lottie’s perfume. For a second, it’s almost as if she is here beside me.
‘What is it?’ I ask, still confused.
Erica, as always, is totally clueless and seems almost put out that she had to make the delivery. She dusts her hands on her coat and tuts under her breath.
‘It was Lottie’s wish that I give it to you in person,’ she says. ‘She even wrote it down on her to-do list before – well, before she died. You know how she could get silly ideas in her head sometimes… It was the same, even at the end.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I say, because I just don’t. ‘Why would she give me a present now? It makes no sense.’
‘Well, neither do I really. I just hope it makes you happy,’ Erica replies, before turning on her heel and striding off.
I am left standing there, clutching a box that my best friend had carefully and beautifully wrapped for me. It’s all I can do not to crumble right there on the doorstep.
Lottie has one last gift for me. So typical of her to think of me, even right at the end. Just the thought of it makes the tears well in my eyes again.
But what on earth can she give to me that I would want or need now? All I want is her.