Day Ten
Sara
Today is my last day on shift before I have a week of annual leave, and I am determined not to be late. I booked this time originally thinking that I might take a last-minute break somewhere nice, but with all the stuff going on with Lottie I never managed to organise anything. To be honest, it’s probably a good thing. A week to sort out my head, clear up my flat and make some decisions about my future is what I need.
I am already regretting my decision to meet up with Jay tonight.
The radio blasts out Nineties feel-good tunes mixed in with a few well-known ballads, and this immediately lifts my mood. As I dry and style my hair, I picture me and Lottie getting ready together. We always used to play music and sing along. Lottie adored all of the naff love songs and would learn each line off by heart, while I preferred rock and alternative stuff, something with an edge, but I started to soften to Lottie’s music the more I spent time with her. It was always so heartfelt and emotional and often quite sad. Sometimes I’d look at Lottie’s serious face while she was listening and wonder what she was thinking. If I ever asked her if she was OK, she would always tell me she was fine or laugh off any worries.
The Lottie I knew had been bright, breezy and fun-loving, which sometimes used to annoy me a bit, like she was almost a bit too free and easy. It was her relaxed attitude to things that had almost broken us, after all. Even thinking about how things had worked out and how she had ended up with Jay makes me feel a cool rage again.
Lottie was meant to be one of my best friends, but did I ever really know her at all?
I read the next Jar of Joy message before I leave for work. It’s become a bit of a routine now, like brushing my teeth, and I’m finding that I’m not resisting it as much.
This message is short and sweet, but it immediately brings back a flood of memories:
Go to Monroe’s.
Pick something nice. Wear it the next time you go out.
Remember how good we always felt when we went there, dressing up?
I nod to myself. ‘Ok, Lots, this is something I can do.’
I can sense Lottie next to me, her smile an infectious light. ‘ I knew you’d like this one, Sara. Dressing up is the best fun after all. ’
Monroe’s the clothes shop is just a few streets away from the care home, and I admit it’ll be nice to go in and treat myself to something new after work. I haven’t done anything like that in ages. The thought immediately makes me smile.
It’s just a shame that the next time I’m going out is tonight with Jay. It’s only a drink at The Crown, but I still want to look nice. I squint at the jar and smile wryly.
‘Jesus, babe. It’s almost like you knew.’
I swear I hear her giggle drifting in the air around me.
‘You’re meeting your ex tonight?’ Jess tugs at the covers of the bed we are making together and gives me an odd look. ‘Is this a wise decision?’
‘It’s just a drink. Nothing more. We have lots to catch up on.’
‘But this is the same ex that ended up with Lottie, the friend that died?’
‘Yeah.’ I sigh. ‘It was messy. He broke my heart when we were younger. Then we had this one amazing night together at Lottie’s party and I really thought it had changed things between us, but…’
‘He fucked it up?’
‘Yeah. He fucked it up. And then I went travelling and Jay and Lottie ended up being a couple. I guess they suited each other.’
‘And you forgave them?’ Jess blows out a deep breath as she strokes the covers flat. ‘I’m not sure I could do that.’
‘I didn’t, well, not for ages, but shortly after I came back, they broke up. Jay moved away and not long after that Lottie got ill. She’d bumped into me outside my flat and I couldn’t push her away when she told me about the cancer. I had to try and move on from the past.’ I was trying to busy myself by bundling up the old washing so that Jess didn’t notice I was getting upset. ‘I found it harder to forgive Jay, though. We had known each other for so long. I’d trusted him, and I believed Lottie when she said she didn’t mean for any of it to happen. She was so lonely at the time. I don’t think she was thinking straight. I really don’t think she set out to hurt me.’
‘Ah, I see. Still pretty shitty of them.’
‘Yeah, yeah, it was…’
As I take the washing down to the laundry room, my memories begin to stir again. I’ve been holding so much back because it was too painful or stressful to relive, but at this point it’s difficult to stop the memories spilling over into my reality.
I remember the morning I was with Lottie, just a few weeks after that night on the beach. I had gone away for a bit to see my nan to give me and Jay some space; it had all been getting so intense after that night we had together. Jay’s dad was in hospital, so I knew his head was all over the place. We had made plans for the future, they were exciting and a bit scary – Jay had asked me to decide what I’d wanted to do, to be sure.
And I had made my choice. I knew what I wanted. I had just needed to know if Jay felt the same way.
Being with Nan had helped. She wasn’t a bit like Mum. She didn’t believe in holding grudges or blaming others for other people’s bad behaviour. She took my hands in hers and told me to follow my heart.
‘This life is too short to be hesitant,’ she had said. ‘If love lands in your lap, keep hold of it. It’s a precious thing. Don’t let other people steal it from you. Sometimes, others can be jealous of true love when they haven’t experienced it themselves.’
I knew she had been talking about Mum here and that made me sad. I didn’t know much about my dad, only that he hadn’t treated my mum that well in the time he had been alive, and then she had met Jay’s dad when I was a baby, someone who she fell quickly in love with – but who broke her heart in two all over again.
It was no wonder she had been scared for me, but Nan was right, I couldn’t live my life caged in a barrier of fears. Nan died shortly after I’d visited her after a short illness, but I never forgot the special time I’d had with her.
It was because of her I’d been finally ready to embrace my new life with Jay. I went back to mine and Lottie’s flat first. I wanted to tell Lottie my plans and I hoped that she would be excited for me. However, as soon I saw her, I knew something was wrong.
I load the washing machine now, trying desperately to fight the sudden tidal wave of tears that hit me. I grip the machine and take a shaky breath. This was years ago. Why does it still affect me so much now? I’m surprised how clearly I can still see Lottie’s face – how pale her skin was, how scared her eyes looked, how her hair was messed up, how her gaze shifted to the left as she couldn’t quite look at me. How, when I moved nearer, I could smell a familiar scent on her, and my stomach bottomed out and my legs began to shake. Lottie caught my gaze again and I could see the sorrow and guilt oozing out of her like an open wound.
And then I heard Jay’s voice behind her. Coming from her bedroom door.
The realisation dawned on me – hard and fast, like blows to my stomach.
‘Have you two…’ I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
People talk about the world spinning but I’d never believed it could happen before, until mine did. I pictured Jay sprawled out in her expensive sheets – smug and satisfied. I’d only been gone a few weeks. I’d asked him to wait for me and he couldn’t even do that. My head was fuzzy and unfocused. Lottie was quietly sobbing and all I wanted to do was pick her up and shake her.
‘How could you?’ I’d hissed. ‘How could you do this? I thought you were my friend.’
‘I am… Sara, I am. This was a mistake. We were both drunk. We didn’t mean—’
‘No.’ I’d stepped away, disgust rising like bile in my throat. ‘You’re no friend of mine. You are nothing.’
I slam the washing machine close and then lean against it, noticing how my heart is hammering fast against the metal. A part of me died that day. A part of my trust, my hope, my love.
I don’t know if I can ever get it back.
The rest of my shift drags and even my conversations with Derek do little to lift my mood. He is brighter today, and as he talks about his wife and their trips to Europe in their early marriage and how much they were in love, I’m glad that he’s feeling better.
‘We had it tough at the beginning,’ he says, as I wheel him into the day room, which this afternoon is flooded with light. ‘But I think in the end it made us stronger, if that makes sense.’
‘It does,’ I nod. ‘And that was all because your wife was German?’
‘My parents were Polish and had fled the war early. We lost so many to the war and I understand why they held the views they did, but that didn’t make it right. Me and Alice were a different generation and Alice’s family had faced their own pain and suffering. What good did it do to keep looking back at the mistakes before and clinging onto them? Life is for living. For moving forward and grasping opportunities when they come to you.’
I smile at this, as it reminds me so much of the words my nan said to me years ago about Jay. I miss her so much. I know she would want to help me right now. She always knew the right things to say.
‘You ran away together though, didn’t you? You didn’t listen to your families. That was brave.’
Derek chuckled. ‘Brave or stupid, one of the two. We were young and in love, so it seemed a simple decision at the time. Can you move me by the window, Sara? Where the jigsaw puzzles are? I fancy challenging my brain today.’
I do as I’m told and wheel Derek next to Esme, who is already busy slotting together the outer frame. She beams as we approach.
‘Oh good, some help! I’m useless with this.’
‘I’ve always been a dab hand when it comes to a puzzle, now let’s see if you have all the edges sorted out.’
I stand back and watch the pair of them for a moment. They are so easy in each other’s company. All around us is the gentle chatter of conversation; Sharon has put on the radio in the background and the room feels relaxed and calm. I want to curl up in a nearby chair and have a quick nap.
‘You look dreamy,’ Esme says, breaking my thoughts.
‘She has a holiday coming up,’ Derek fake grumbles, shaking his head. ‘She is daring to leave us and do nice things outside of here.’
‘What, like clean my flat?’ I joke.
‘No,’ he says. ‘You can get on with that Jar of Joy of yours. I want to hear about all the other things your crazy friend has made you do.’
‘I will.’ I smile.
Esme is still staring at me. ‘You look unsure? Is this Jar of Joy not a good thing?’
‘It’s a lovely thing,’ I tell her. ‘But it’s making me remember things that I think perhaps I’d rather forget. I’m not sure it is bringing me much joy at the moment…’
Derek taps my arm. ‘Perhaps you can’t see the joy yet, but it’s there somewhere, waiting for you. Sometimes we have to confront the past before we can truly move on.’
Breathing deep, I stand outside Monroe’s for a moment or two before I walk in. The shop has surprisingly survived difficult times when a lot of bigger retail outlets around here have closed down or moved on. People living here are quite loyal to the shop, though; it has been in the same family since the Seventies and at one time had been featured in glossy magazines as one of the best boutiques to shop in. I imagine back when it opened it would have looked fresh and modern with its double-fronted windows, high ceilings and brightly painted walls. Now, it looks a little tired and forgotten. The Monroe’s name which was etched in black over the glass has begun to wear off a little, and now looks like it has been applied with a mascara wand. The outside used to be white when Lottie and I shopped here as teens, but at some point it was repainted pink. I’m not sure it looks any better, but that’s probably only because of my own preferences.
It was Lottie who first dragged me here. I was never really that bothered about fashion or shops, I never really had the money to worry about it anyway. Most of my stuff was bought from the cool markets in Brighton, or were presents from my mum when she’d worked extra shifts. I lived in baggy jeans, oversized T-shirts and holey jumpers. The grunge scene might have passed, but I still fully embraced it. Lottie, on the other hand, wore decent gear. Her jeans were designer, her tops were minimal but beautifully cut and most of her clothes were unique and expensive. Lottie loved Monroe’s because a) it was a tribute to her favourite actress and b) it was a proper, original boutique that made her feel at home. I wasn’t at all comfortable being dragged in here. I remember how I’d peered through the window and felt my entire body lock up with resistance. I was sure the staff here would judge me. They wouldn’t want a council estate kid like me touching their lovely clothes, yet still, I allowed Lottie to tug me in.
I push the door and walk in now; the bell still jingles softly which makes me smile. I scan the space, and it’s much as I remember. Not much has changed over the years; the rails still dominate the sides of the shop, filled with expensive-looking vintage clothes. Towards the back I can see a new second-hand section that never used to be there, next to a pretty array of shoes and handbags. The seating is still pink, soft and plush and scattered in front of the two small changing rooms. Right at the back is the cash desk and above that is the huge Marilyn Monroe print that Lottie loved so much and always made me feel so welcomed somehow. There is something about that bright, welcoming smile that tells me everything is going to be OK.
Apart from one other woman, who is looking at the shoes, I’m alone in the shop. I breathe in the floral, sweet smell and memories rush at me all at once.
I see me and Lottie back here all those years ago, picking outfits for her party, our fingers moving through the rails as we inspected each dress. My heart had plunged when I saw the price tags, but Lottie told me not to stress out. She tried on dress after dress, each one looking beautiful on her tiny, petite body, before she settled on a slinky top that brought out the colour of her eyes and made her blonde hair shimmer.
‘You look amazing,’ I told her, and she’d grinned.
And then Lottie told me to pick out a dress. ‘This is something I want to do for you,’ she said. ‘I want you to feel beautiful too.’
Something I had never truly felt before.