Pieces of Us

Day Twelve

Sara

I call Jess almost as soon as I wake up. My mouth tastes of sludge from the one-too-many glasses of wine I drank before bed, and I don’t even dare to look in the mirror because I already know I look a state.

‘You sound like shit,’ Jess says straightaway.

I rinse out a cup that is sat by the sink and force myself to down some orange juice. The vitamins have to help, right?

‘I feel like shit,’ I admit. ‘The last day or so have been tough.’

‘So, come on, tell me about it – I’m all ears. You’ve caught me on break. This saves me having to hear Sharon’s boring holiday plans.’

‘Can she hear you?’ I whisper, cringing on Jess’s part.

‘No, of course not, but you know she’ll be in here any minute and if she spots me on my own, she will attack. I’m defenceless. Within minutes I’ll know every single bloody detail about their next Norwegian cruise.’

I smile. I need Jess’s energy today. I wish I could suck some of it into me. ‘Well, for starters, I finished with Tyler.’

‘You finished with Tyler?’ Jess breathes out. ‘That man is gorgeous. It couldn’t have been easy.’

‘It was easier than you think.’ I lick my dry lips. ‘I don’t really think I should be with anyone at the moment.’

‘There are certain benefits to being single that’s for sure. I can get you on one of my apps.’ Jess pauses. ‘Or are you talking about being proper single, like no sex or anything?’

‘Proper single.’ I start to pace the flat, trying to ignore the dull headache at the back of my eyes. ‘I think it’s the only way.’

‘Wow – you’re serious. What else happened? Is this to do with the Jar thingy?’

‘The Jar of Joy. And kind of.’ I stop pacing and rub my temple, trying to place my thoughts into place. ‘I ended up meeting Jay again. We went for dinner, and it was nice, but confusing and we ended up getting closer than I planned…’

Jess sucks in a deep breath. ‘Really? OK, so what happened? Did you shag? Are you seeing him again?’

‘No. I told him not to contact me again.’

‘That’s pretty final.’

‘I know, I know…’ Pressure builds in my head. ‘But the thing is – Lottie’s instruction was for me to pick up her diary from her mum’s.’

‘Her diary? Oh my God. Have you read it?’

I glance at the heavy book which is still where I left it on the coffee table, sat right next to the empty-looking Jar of Joy.

‘No, not yet. Lottie wanted me to when I’m ready, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyway, when I got to her house her mum told me all sorts of things, mainly about Jay, which has basically made me hate men and want to stay single forever.’

‘Oh! That is a lot. And that’s why you told him to leave you alone?’

‘Yeah, I feel like I need a breather.’ Taking in the small space of my flat around me, I can see that I’ve already let the mess and clutter get on top of me. It’s no wonder I feel so low when I have this chaos all around me. I begin to pick up some of my clothes off the sofa and the discarded books off from the floor. ‘I think I need to sort my life out.’

‘Well, I can join you in that one. When you come back to work, we can make some plans.’

‘Sounds good,’ I say, as I notice an old, stained cup under the sofa. God, I really am gross. ‘How is Derek?’

‘Better. Much better. His medications seem to be kicking in so he’s much brighter.’

I straighten up, still clutching the dirty old cup, a trail of musty clothes hanging over my arm. ‘Oh, Jess, that’s the best news. Tell him I’ll pop over later.’

‘Sara! You’re meant to be on holiday.’

‘I am on holiday, that doesn’t mean I can’t visit a dear friend.’ I turn back to the table and smile. ‘Besides I have something to show Derek. I think he might be able to help me.’

The next few hours are spent deep cleaning. I play my music loud and fling the windows open, not caring what the neighbours think. I’ve been living like a ghost recently anyway. Cleaning takes my mind off things. It’s easier to ignore the message from Jay that is sitting unread on my phone, and it means I don’t have to start thinking about what I’m going to do about Lottie’s diary. I’m all for fulfilling her wishes but this is a step too far.

‘Maybe we can store it away somewhere,’ I say softly, imagining she’s there next to me. ‘That way it will always be safe.’

I can feel Lottie next to me, shaking her head and smiling sagely. ‘ I know you want to read it, Sara. You want to know what really happened that summer, don’t you? You know everything will be in there. ’

Except do I want to know? Aren’t some things best left in the past?

For now, I put the diary on my small bookshelf out of harm’s way and decide to worry about it later. I have a hot date to get ready for.

‘You look good.’

‘I know you’re lying.’

‘I’m really not. You have colour in your cheeks and Jess tells me you’ve managed breakfast this morning.’ I sit myself next to Derek, tidying his cover as I do so; I like it to be nice and tight across his bed because I know he feels cosy.

‘Yes, a few mouthfuls. I eat like a bird now, I’m turning into skin and bone, not that it matters.’ His mottled hands dance briefly on the top of the sheet. ‘It’s not as if I’m going to be going dancing anytime soon, is it?’

‘I don’t know – maybe I can tempt you out with me.’ I wink at him.

He smiles sadly. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered coming in today, Sara. I know it’s your week off. You should be doing fun things with people your own age, not worrying about an old codger like me.’

‘Perhaps I like being around codgers,’ I tell him lightly. ‘Besides, I needed to check on you. I can’t have you getting poorly on me again.’

Derek tuts softly but the sad expression hasn’t left him. I try to ignore the heavy feeling in my stomach, it seems to get worse every time I look into his large, soulful eyes.

‘So, what have you been up to?’ he asks in a sudden chirpier voice. ‘You can tell me all about it over a cup of tea.’

I grin. ‘That’s a deal.’

I don’t waste much time at the tea trolley, nodding briefly to Ade who is wheeling another resident outside. It’s another lovely sunny day and the home is much brighter, with the doors wide open and the smell of summer spilling in. I can hear the sound of a lawnmower in the distance and the gentle sound of chatter. It’s soothing.

Back in Derek’s room, I hand him his tea (super strong, just as he likes) and then walk over to the window and tug back the curtains, throwing the window open.

‘You need some summer air in here,’ I say. ‘It’s too stale in this room. It’s enough to make anyone feel rubbish.’

I put pillows behind Derek so that he is more comfortable and move his bed into a more upright position. When I sit back down, we take a few moments just to enjoy the silence – although silent would be the wrong word. Derek’s smile grows as the sounds from outside filter into the room; the strongest is that of a bird, singing sweetly from just by the sill.

‘That’ll be a blackbird,’ he says nodding. ‘You can’t mistake those notes – beautiful and sorrowful at the same time.’

‘I can take you out next time I come. You’ll be able to hear them better.’

Derek sips his tea thoughtfully for a minute and then speaks. ‘Tell me what you got up to.’

So I do. I haven’t got the pressure of being at work and having to rush my time, so I go into detail about my date with Jay, about my visit to Erica’s and about all the memories Lottie’s stupid Jar of Joy has brought up.

I reach into my bag and pull it out, placing it carefully on the table next to Derek.

‘There are only a few messages left. I feel so conflicted. Part of me wants to get it done and dusted because remembering all of this stuff is so hard… but then again, I know that once I stop, that’ll be it. I’ll have nothing left of Lottie.’

‘You have her diary though.’

‘I’m really not sure I can read that, Derek.’

Derek sighs softly. ‘She left it to you for a reason. You know, people use diaries for all sorts of reasons. For some, it’s a private, hidden thing but for others its more of an outlet, a way of documenting true events. Some people hope that their diaries will be read one day.’

I consider this. Maybe it’s true, Lottie could well have wanted this all along.

‘Maybe it’s more that you’re scared of what you might find out,’ Derek continues. ‘You tell me the messages have been difficult enough. It sounds as though you have shut a lot of life away, Sara.’

I bow my head. I don’t want Derek to see I’m getting upset. ‘I just think it’s easier to move forward than to keep focusing on the mistakes of the past. Why would I want to get hurt again?’

‘Did you ever properly talk to Lottie about what happened between her and Jay? How they got together, or even what led them to split up?’

I shake my head. ‘When I got back from working abroad, they were still together, but they split soon after and Jay moved up north. I didn’t see Lottie for ages after that. The first time we just bumped into each other in town. It was awkward, but I agreed to meet up with her again. Then she told me she had cancer.’ I pause, I can feel the emotion building up inside of me. ‘What was the point of asking questions then? Lottie had enough of her own crap to deal with. Jay had left her, she didn’t get on with her mum and her dad was bloody unreliable – so I stepped up. It’s what friends do.’

Derek eyes me over his cup. ‘And you are a very good friend, Sara.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But I think now this is Lottie’s way of helping you – this Jar of Joy. The diary. She wants to give you the answers that you couldn’t ask at the time. She wants to help you move on. This is her gift to you – not the jar itself, but the freedom it will provide.’

I churn this over. It makes sense in a way, but the thought is still scary. Am I really going to have to start thinking about the past more? I’d spent so long carefully constructing my safe little wall around myself. Was I really prepared to knock that all down?

‘Are you really happy working here?’ Derek asks carefully.

I hesitate before speaking. ‘What makes you ask that?’

‘Just a funny feeling really,’ he replies, shuffling a little into position. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re great at your job, dedicated, kind and hardworking. It’s just…’

‘What?’ I urge.

‘Well, I can see you working somewhere else, that’s all,’ he says. ‘I watch you sometimes, when you are drawing with the other residents. I can see the talent spilling from your fingers, the small smile that takes over your expression. My wife was an artist, you know? I recognise the happiness that she had, it just poured out from her. When you work, I can see you are just going through the motions, but you are young and talented with your whole life in front of you. I wouldn’t like to see you waste it.’

‘I was going to do something with art after my degree…’ I shake my head. ‘It’s too late now though.’

‘It’s never too late. There are always solutions, Sara, but sometimes you just have to search a bit harder for them. The best things are worth fighting for though – that’s what I believe.’

He closes his eyes and sighs softly. I stand up, briefly touching his warm hand.

‘I’m sorry, Derek, I’m tiring you. I’ll go now. I can come back tomorrow.’

‘You’re not going anywhere.’ His eyes remain closed. ‘I want to know what the next message says first.’

‘Really? I can tell you all about it when I next come.’

‘Sara’ – his voice is stern – ‘I have little entertainment as it is now. Please do me the honour of including me in your exciting moments.’

I laugh. ‘OK, OK, hang on…’ I dig my hand into the jar, hit by another wave of sadness at its emptiness now. It’s silly, but I feel like it’s a sign that Lottie’s joy is disappearing.

Carefully, I unfold the message. It’s on pink paper this time, her favourite colour.

Go to the cat rescue where we went that day on a whim and found Goose. Isn’t she the best cat ever?

Find an animal I would love and donate in my honour.

I read the words out loud, trying to ignore the slight tremor in my voice. That had been a strange old day, but one of the best. It was the day Lottie had found something for me that I hadn’t realised I’d ever wanted – a pet!

‘Goose?’ Derek frowns. ‘Bit of a daft name for a cat.’

‘It is, I suppose. But she’s white and has a long neck for a cat. She’s kind of awkward looking. The first time I saw her, she reminded me of a goose. Lottie wasn’t too sure though.’

‘No? What did she want to call her?’

‘Fifi,’ I say, grinning. ‘I thought that was too soppy. Too girly, but Lottie loved it.’

‘You won in the end though.’

‘Yes, I guess I did.’

‘You should go today. It sounds like you’ll have a nice afternoon surrounded by animals. If you see an old frail one, think of me. Maybe you can call the poor sod Derek.’

We both laugh.

Derek reaches towards me and squeezes my hand.

‘Look after yourself, young Sara. And remember to put yourself first sometimes. You need to stop worrying about your friend, about your ex-boyfriend, about me. Instead, focus on what you want and need. Learn to follow your heart.’

And with that, he closes his eyes again and I know this time the conversation is really over.

I grab some lunch from the corner shop near work and then pick up the bus that will take me into the next village where Rowlands Cat Rescue is. As I sit on the threadbare seat, nibbling on my sandwich, I think back to the last time we went there. It wasn’t long after Lottie had been diagnosed and she had bundled us both in her car, insisting that we went to see the cats in an attempt to cheer her up.

‘You know how much I love them,’ she’d told me eagerly. ‘I often pop by just to donate and spend some time fussing over them. It takes my mind off my own troubles for a while.’

I had never really been a cat lover, but I’d been won over by Lottie’s enthusiasm. It was just so lovely to see her smile. As soon as we had stepped into the centre, Lottie had spotted the little white cat sitting alone in a cage.

‘Oh, Sara,’ she had gushed. ‘Look how cute this one is. How could anyone abandon her?’

‘A little goose…’ I’d replied, my gaze fixed on her.

‘Goose! Are you crazy? She is far more a Fifi! Look how pretty she is. What sort of name is Goose anyway!’

I don’t even know how it happened so quickly. Lottie could’ve never taken her on, Erica was always so scared of dust and germs, especially now that Lottie was poorly. I really didn’t want a cat in my flat at the time, but seeing how much Lottie loved Goose I couldn’t resist. I knew Lottie could visit her at mine and I had to admit, there had been something about that tiny little cat that had made my heart melt. Lottie eventually accepted her name, she even admitted it suited her.

Now I couldn’t imagine life without Goose, her gentle purrs and warm little body made me so happy.

I hadn’t loved cats at first, but Lottie had shown me how to let them into my heart.

The bus pulls up a few roads away from the rescue centre and I hop out. As I walk the rest of the way, I have mixed feelings about coming back. I know how much Lottie loved it here. Just seeing the low, timber building makes me feel a rush of affection. I gently pat the statue of a wise-looking tomcat that stands by the doorway as I walk in, something Lottie said she used to do for luck.

Inside the scent of fur, food, and wood chips hits me. I nod at the smiling woman at reception, pick up a few leaflets and then make my way down the corridor of cats, dozens of cages containing tiny animals – some old, some young, some poorly – all sitting and waiting to be found by the right owner.

‘It always breaks my heart,’ Lottie had said, her fingers touching the wire on the cages. ‘I want to take them all. I see the loneliness in their eyes. I know what that feels like. It’s horrible.’

I pause in front of a tired-looking black cat. I’d never questioned Lottie about that comment. I always thought we had done all we could to help her fit in, but Lottie had joined us so late in sixth form. I knew she had struggled with friendships before and I guess, in all honesty, I knew she had always been on the fringes of our group, too.

Had I done enough to help her?

A tiny mew distracts me from my thoughts. Staring at me through the bars is a small, skinny cat with longish blonde fur and the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen on a cat. I read the description on the printed card by her door.

This cat is believed to be one or two years old. We currently call her Marilyn because of her blonde good looks. She was abandoned as a young cat and needs someone to show her love. She can live with other cats.

I stare into the eyes of this sweet little creature and feel my heart pound. Lottie wanted me to find a cat that she would love and donate in her honour. There is no doubt that she would love this cat. It is her in animal form – a tiny, sweet-looking thing.

‘But you’re no Marilyn,’ I whisper to her. ‘You’re a Fifi.’

A few minutes later, I’m not filling out a donation form. I’m filling out a request to adopt.

Fifi is coming home with me.