Pieces of Us

Day Five

Sara

A message a day. That is all I have to do. Read a message a day and follow its instructions. I frown at the jar, which is now sitting pride of place on my coffee table. Goose sniffed it a few times as if she was hopeful it contained treats; she soon gave it a flick of her tail when she realised it didn’t.

I should have started yesterday, but I was such a snotty, teary mess after leaving Erica’s that I couldn’t face anything. Even Erica had been shocked, her stern demeanour slipping briefly as she stepped forward to take the jar from my shaking hands.

‘Are you OK?’ she’d asked, her gaze drifting briefly to the letter, which I hurriedly folded away and stuffed in my pocket. I didn’t want her to read Lottie’s last words to me; they were private.

‘It’s just a bit of a shock,’ I told her. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’ I took the jar back from Erica, feeling suddenly foolish and ungrateful for even trying to bring it back. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,’ I’d said, before staggering back down the driveway, my eyes still misty with tears. I heard Erica calling behind me, offering me a lift, but there was no way I wanted to be cooped up in a car, I needed fresh air. Instead, I pretended to ignore her and continued to walk.

I’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning and thinking of Lottie. Imagining her decorating this glass, taking time to fill out each message. I wondered how long it had taken her, how she had decided what instructions to give me. A huge hole had opened inside of me, and it felt like ice was setting in. I had to pull myself into a tight foetal position and gradually rock myself to sleep. But still my dreams were full of her.

‘Sara? Are you coming in today?’ Jess’s voice is gentle and soothing. The same one that she uses with the residents when they are particularly upset. I picture her at the other end of the phone, her soft round face, her bright purple hair, her gleaming dark eyes.

‘Yeah, I’m due in at nine.’ I rub my face. I’m so tired it’s crazy, but work will be a distraction. I stare at the jar again and sigh. ‘There’s something I need to do first though.’

‘OK, babe,’ Jess says warmly. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

I rush around getting ready, barely bothering with my make-up and simply scraping my hair back into a rough ponytail. There are dark rings under my eyes and my lips are chapped and rough. I rub cream on my face and try not to focus on my reflection too much. Does it really matter what I look like?

Goose meows at my feet, like she is ordering me to get a grip.

‘Yes, yes, I know.’

I walk back over to the jar and open it. Reaching inside, I pick the first message my fingers find. Lottie has carefully folded each one over several times, so they are just tiny squares of paper. Slowly, I unravel the note. Lottie’s beautiful cursive writing hits me immediately.

Listen to our song. Loud. Sing along. Loudly.

Remember what the words mean.

The message drops from my suddenly numb fingers, drifting back to the table. My throat feels tight, and my eyes burn as if I have just rubbed dust and grit into them. I haven’t listened to our song in years.

To be honest, I don’t think I ever want to again.

Walking through the doors of Oakbridge Care Home, my legs feel a little bit wobbly, like I’ve just stepped off a rollercoaster ride. I have to pause in the reception area for a few minutes to regain a sense of normality. A familiar smell curls around me like a soothing blanket. It’s a mix of the lavender floor cleaner they use and the flowers that Sharon likes to have dotted around the place. Sharon says it’s good to have plants and pretty things, it keeps the residents in a positive frame of mind.

With a bracing breath, I walk through to the staff area and take off my jacket and bag and stuff them into a locker. Ade is sitting in one of the chairs, swiping at his phone – he’s one of the new care workers, only been here for a few months. He looks up at me and smiles warmly.

‘Sara, you’re back!’

‘Yeah, I am.’ My own smile is strained. ‘I’ve only been off a few days.’

‘Well, you’ve been missed. The residents have been grumbling. Esme keeps asking where you are and Derek has been in a right old bad mood.’

‘Really?’ Guilt stabs at my gut. ‘I’ll check in on both today.’

Just as I’m about to leave, Sharon sweeps into the room. She’s a tall, imposing woman who I always think belongs more in an army barracks than an old people’s home. Her face is stern and looks like it’s been carved out of granite and her long mousey hair is always pulled back into a severe bun. Me and Jess used to giggle about how much we’d like to give her a makeover.

‘Sara! I’m so glad you’re back. All better now?’

I blink at her; there is a lump in my throat that feels like I’ve just swallowed a brick. How am I even supposed to answer that? Does she think that grief is like a broken leg? After a short time, it heals up and I’d be all better again? I have to fight back the sharp words that are forming.

‘Yes…’ I manage to choke out. ‘I’m fine now.’

‘Good, good. We can do your return-to-work forms later, you know what HR are like, but in the meantime can you do your usual rounds? I’m sure everyone will be pleased to see you back.’

I nod quickly. Ade offers me another encouraging smile. I know I can do this. I’m good at my job and I love the people here and God knows I need the distraction. I just wish my brain could convince my body of this, as I move stiffly out towards the main lounge. Jess is stood in the corridor on the way through and I’m so relieved to see her friendly face.

She pulls me into a tight hug. ‘It’ll be OK,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘And I’m here if you need me. Just remember that.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I tell her, trying to sound convincing, but in reality, I feel sick to my stomach.

Can I really act normal again?

‘You look pale. Are you eating?’

Derek stares up at me with his wise old eyes. He always reminds me a bit of an owl, not that I would ever tell him that, he’d kill me! But I mean it in the nicest possible way. He is small and hunched now with age and his face is heavily lined, overshadowed by the huge glasses that dominate his face. There’s a picture in his room – a beautiful one of him and his wife from decades ago – where he stands proudly, his arm wrapped around Alice’s waist and an easy, infectious smile creasing his handsome face. Although he’s in a lot of pain now, I still see that handsome man, especially when he smiles and his blue eyes twinkle like jewels at the bottom of a pool.

‘Of course I’m eating,’ I tell him. ‘You need to stop worrying about me and focus on your own food.’

I push his dinner towards him. To be fair, it doesn’t look that appetising, some kind of beef stew that is far too fatty. Derek lifts the spoon with a shaky hand and moves it around a little.

‘I had better stuff when I was in the army,’ he grumbles. ‘I miss Alice’s cooking. Her Sunday roasts were to die for, I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?’

I grin. ‘Yeah, you told me, but it doesn’t matter. You know I love hearing about Alice.’ I move the bowl closer to him. ‘Just have a few spoons to keep your strength up, Derek. They have agency staff working in the kitchen today because Gav is off. The food will be better tomorrow.’

‘Do you promise?’ His eyes sparkle at mine.

‘Would I lie to you?’

He takes a few reluctant mouthfuls and then pushes the bowl away. ‘I’m not hungry anyway. I don’t work up much of an appetite sitting around here.’ He sighs. ‘I’ve missed our chats.’

‘I know and I’m sorry.’ I glance at the time. ‘I can sit with you a little longer, but then I need to check on the others. I can come after my shift?’

He shakes his head. ‘No. You need to go home and rest. You look exhausted.’

I smile wanly. I don’t tell him that all I’ve been doing is sleeping. Derek doesn’t need to know my troubles.

‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ I say, patting his hand gently. ‘Although it’s lovely that you do.’

Around us, the dining room is buzzing with activity. Many of the residents are talking loudly among themselves as dinner plates clash and rattle, and Ade’s hearty laugh rings out as he jokes with one of our eldest ladies, Daisy. Derek’s gaze moves around the room for a moment or two, as if he’s taking it all in, then a small frown settles on his face, and he sighs gently.

‘Is it too noisy in here for you?’ I ask. I know his headaches are getting worse lately, although he likes to pretend that there is nothing wrong.

He is rubbing his temples now and manages a small nod. ‘I think I might like to go back to my room, Sara. If that’s OK with you?’

‘Of course it is.’

I take him in his wheelchair across the corridor to his bedroom. He has a large, bright room with views out to the grounds. Often, when Derek needs to be quiet, he will sit in his chair by the window and stare out, daydreaming of times gone past. When he’s feeling a little better, I will take him for a walk; the fresh air is good for his lungs and well-being.

Today though, I help him back into his bed. Although it’s lunchtime and a warm day, Derek is shivering slightly, so I pull the covers tight across his body. Worries drift across my mind, although I try and force them back. I’ve only been away for a short time, but I can see that he has lost weight, his skin also looks greyer and dull. A spike of fear makes me catch my breath and I have to turn away from him and pretend to busy myself, tidying his bedside cabinet. Tears are building in my eyes and I don’t want him to see.

Death is part and parcel of this job and although it’s always difficult and sad, our job is to make sure people feel as comfortable and settled as they can, with as little fear as possible. Usually I could manage this, but after losing Lottie so recently it’s more difficult.

Derek reaches across and pats my arm. ‘I heard, you know. About your friend.’

I can’t reply. I take a gulp of air instead and move to the end of his bed, straightening the bedding that is already straight and patting the sheets down unnecessarily.

‘Jess told me,’ he continues gently. ‘Don’t be cross with her. I kept asking where you were and, in the end, she told me. You used to talk a lot about her…’ He screws up his face. ‘What’s her name again?’

‘Charlotte,’ I say quietly, my voice catching. ‘But we all called her Lottie.’

‘That’s a pretty name. You told me she was poorly, of course, but I didn’t know she had passed. I’m so sorry.’

‘It was quick, in the end. Much faster than we’d expected,’ I reply.

‘I lost Alice young, as you know. She was only fifty which is no age at all…’ He closes his eyes. ‘Those first weeks – months even – were like trying to dig myself out of a hole. It was so hard and, even now, I feel an ache deep inside of me. It’s like a scar that never properly heals.’

‘Derek. You need sleep. Let’s not talk about this now.’

The truth is, I don’t want to talk about it. I feel a trickle of irritation towards Jess for discussing my business with Derek, she always does let her tongue run away with her, but then I remember how much I used to tell Derek about Lottie. All the time she was poorly, my worries would slip out. I had been so scared of losing her.

‘Sara,’ Derek says softly, ‘can you put my record on? I want to drown out the noise around me. It helps me to sleep.’

The vintage record player sits in the corner of the room – still in excellent condition – and I walk over to it and the stack of vinyls piled up beside it.

‘Which one do you want me to play?’

‘Buddy Holly.’ His voice is barely above a whisper now. ‘“True Love Ways”.’

I carefully select the right record and slip it onto the turntable. There’s a pause as the needle finds its place on the groove, followed by a beautiful crackle and spit before the rich music floods the room.

‘There,’ I say. ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy it.’

‘I will,’ he replies. His face has softened, and a sweet smile has appeared. I can’t see his eyes, but I know they are sparkling beneath the closed lids. ‘This was our song. Mine and Alice’s, and every time I hear it, it’s like she’s with me all over again.’

Our song.

Waking home, I can’t help thinking of Derek’s words and how relaxed and calm he had become once the music filled the room. Music had always formed such an important part of mine and Lottie’s relationship. We had a shared love of old bands, listening for hours, sharing secrets, fears and dreams among the melody and beats that throbbed around us. When we were most upset or stressed, we used music to relax and unwind, to heal some of the pain we were feeling.

But there was one song that linked us the most. A shared favourite that brought us closer together.

Without thinking too much more about it, I reach for my phone and open my music library. I stuff my earphones in and select the chosen track. One I have ignored for far too long.

Immediately the opening guitar chords welcome me, familiarity drifts around me like a gentle hug. The soothing words of ‘In My Life’ by The Beatles fill in missing parts of me, it’s like I’ve needed them for so long and didn’t realise.

Before I know quite what I’m doing, I find I’m singing quietly along. I imagine Lottie is beside me. God, it really feels like she might be.

‘ I am. I’m here. And I’m singing just as badly as you. ’

I giggle despite myself and continue walking, the words flooding my soul. For the first time in ages, I feel like my friend is back and it is wonderful.