10. Claire
CHAPTER 10
CLAIRE
T he photos were an issue, as were some of other bits and pieces that’d been left out for us to discover and some other pieces and bits that we discovered by accident. None of us wanted them and all of us wanted them, kind of, although this was expressed in different ways.
Jackson. “Van’ll be pissed off if I bring more shit home.”
Max. “I’m not sure we have space unless Vic doesn’t have her bathroom.”
Ava. “New baby incoming. Everything will be destroyed.”
Payton. “I’d love them, but I’d feel bad.”
Seph. “We’ll have them. Rose loves all this family stuff at the moment.”
Me. “So does Eliza.”
Callum. “We can clear a room in the farmhouse, but when would the rest of you get to see it?”
I rubbed my eyes and debated the ideas I’d already had to find a solution for what we did with the physical memories that needed to be kept and loved and looked after and looked at by us and our kids and our grandkids when they came.
“I think we need to take them back home. To Oxford. Then when we’re there, we can look at what we want and we know where things are. There’s going to be a time when we and the kids want to see this stuff.” I’d decided therefore it would happen.
Killian called me stubborn, which wasn’t exactly untrue, and arguably fairly accurate. I was also pretty good at coming to a decision that was fair to everyone – having four daughters meant this was an essential skill.
Ava gave a nod in agreement. “What about if we add more to it, some of our individual stuff. Baby photos and records of achievement from school. Things we had as kids that we don’t want to throw away but feel too sentimental to keep it.”
“Seph still has the sheets from when he lost his virginity. He thought it would never happen again so he needed to have a keepsake.” Payton smirked at her twin.
Seph said nothing, just gave her two fingers.
“You mean like memory boxes?” Max frowned. I knew my big brother pretended he wasn’t in touch with his emotional side when he really was.
“Just like that. But I’ll style it so it’s not just a load of damp cardboard. I’d probably put my wedding dress in there and some of the things from that day, as well as my portfolio from college,” Ava said, looking at my glass of wine with something like envy.
I glanced around my siblings. We were at my house, some of the kids knocking about – two of them were trying to practice killing each other or so it sounded – and a few of our partners who were staying out of this because they’d developed sense over the years.
I knew we were a lot. We’d been brought up to be close, to look after each other, that the ties between us were unbreakable no matter what we said or sometimes did to each other. I was close to Max and Jackson because we’d had a year or so when it’d just been the three of us trying to look after Callum; we’d become a team and stayed that way. When the other three had come along, they’d been included in that team without question, because Marie had said so and from day one, we’d accepted her as one of us because she’d wanted us.
“Which room are you thinking, Claire,” Max said as a high-pitched yelp rang through the house. “I think that’s the twins. They’ll be okay.” He made no sign to move.
“Not Dad’s office, although it was tempting.” It would’ve made the perfect space really.
“How about the room next door. He used to use it for storing files, but he emptied it a few months ago because everything’s electronic.” Payton leaned forward, interested now. “The last time I was home, I went in there. The carpet had been taken up because there’d been an infestation of moths. Dad was on moth patrol every day with his spray. I think it brought him great pleasure.”
“That would probably bring me great pleasure.” Jackson almost looked envious. “Is he planning on using the room for anything else?”
“I’ll ask Mum,” I said, reaching for my phone. I’d long since stopped calling her Marie, probably around the time when I’d been a student and found out I was pregnant, faced with a decision that was still the hardest one I’d ever had to make. There were times when I’d wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d gone through with the pregnancy, then I’d look at my life now and I was grateful for the choice I’d been able to make. I didn’t allow myself the regret that could’ve consumed me. Marie had been my rock and my person at that time, and ever after.
I stepped out of the kitchen and into the garden. Rose and Eliza were lounging on a blanket on the grass, looking at something probably on social media. Jackson’s boy Teddy and Payton’s son Tomas were up a tree and would probably need rescuing later, but that could be a Killian problem.
Mum answered on the third ring.
“I know I left the photos out for you to have a good look at, but I’m worried where they’ve gone.” She sounded half-panicked.
“I’ve got them. What time tomorrow is the removal van there?” Tomorrow was moving day, the day after that was when the sale would complete and we’d no longer have the keys to the place where we’d spent so much time growing up.
“Midday, which is fine. What are you going to do with the photos? Dad has them all uploaded and saved, so we don’t really need the actual things.” She sighed loudly. “I’ve got the box here for some reason with all your new born things – from when you, Max, Jackson and Callum were born. Rachael kept it. It’s ended up here – I think we moved it for safekeeping when we had the house in Oxford renovated and never took it back. Do you think you want it?”
“Definitely. I’ll send someone over to get it now and then we can keep everything together. Is Dad still using the room next to his study at the Oxford house?” I had no idea what was in those boxes, so Killian’s task would be to bring them back here and let me go through them first. There were a few things that were triggering for my brothers and if the boxes contained anything of the sorts, then the time and the place to look through them wasn’t here and now.
“He was going to use it to make elderflower champagne, but apparently the temperature or humidity isn’t right, so it’s still empty. What do you want it for?”
I explained the idea.
“I don’t see why not. When are you going to put it together?”
I saw my littlest sister standing up, her hand on her still flattish belly.
“Today. I think we’ll head over there now and get everything into that room. We can sort it out another time, but if we know where things like this are, we don’t have to worry about leaving anything behind.” That was my fear with them selling the big house, that we forgot to take something and couldn’t get it back.
“If you’re going to Oxford, can you take some of the wine with you? The really good stuff’s already boxed and ready to be picked up today, but the everyday bottles need transporting.”
My parents were really into their wine. They didn’t drink as much as they used to – London office culture had been to go for a drink most nights, and Marie was from a family where having a drink in the evening was the usual – but they had a huge interest in vineyards and the wineries in Canada, having owned one now for more than a decade. My dad had been fascinated with ice wine and how it was produced, so we’d ended up with a collection of that amongst other things. He also had a whisky collection that’d been written about in magazines which was stored in Oxford, with more security than Killian had around our house.
“I’ll come over with Killian and Owen,” I mentioned Payton’s husband who was usually laid back and amenable to helping out with pretty much anything. He was the polar opposite to my highly strung, workaholic sister which worked beautifully.
“See you in about half an hour then.”
We were there just over half an hour later, four of us - me, Killian, Owen and Jackson, Killian’s car and Owen’s car with us as I had no idea how much wine would need to be moved; Marie had kept that detail hidden.
She met us at the door, looking dusty which suggested the very bowels of the house were being explored.
“Found any treasure?” Jackson gave her a hug anyway.
“Surprisingly no. I did find some things that I think were from the previous people who lived here – a cupboard which I don’t think any of you ever found. Silverware, all wrapped up in Irish linen. I’ll take it with us.”
We followed her into the dining room, the huge table still there as it would remain, part of the house for the new owners. I rubbed the polished walnut with my hand, remembering the conversations and arguments and announcements we’d had around it.
Right now though, it was filled with boxes.
“These are the baby boxes.” Marie looked a little concerned. “Rachael had one for each of you and I do remember coming across them when we cleared the Oxford house and now I feel bad because I forgot about them.”
It was Jackson who got to them first, peering into the one with his name on it. “I’m going to guess that these are - ” he paused. “Have you checked inside them, Mum?”
“Of course. I knew what was in them years ago, but I just forgot about them. And if I remember what’s in them, there was no good time to ever give them to you. Certainly when you were kids wasn’t the right time.”
“Now’s probably not the right time.” I headed to my box, never one to be able to put things off. I opened it up, finding the blanket that I’d probably been wrapped in when I was born. There was a pair of tiny pink satin shoes, photographs from when I was first born, held by my mother, Rachael who looked so young. She had tears on her face but was smiling.
She’d had the four of us as close together as I’d had my girls. I had no idea whether she’d planned to have pregnancies so close together. I kind of had. We’d never really said, let’s have another now, but we hadn’t done anything to stop getting pregnant until after I’d had Quinn and been told that another pregnancy would be high risk.
I would’ve had another and taken the chance. We were lucky, we could afford a big family and I didn’t need to work, although I did love my job, but Killian put his foot down and I was told that if it was a choice between me and another baby, he’d pick me every time, so he’d had the snip.
Apparently having a vasectomy was the equivalent to a C-section. Who knew?
I found a crocheted baby hat, although I’d never know who’d made it. There was a baby book, my weight and length written in it, as well as photographs of me as a new born. There were stuffed toys in there too and a letter.
I plucked it out of the box.
“Did you read these?” I looked at Marie, who was seeming nervous.
She nodded. “I read yours and Max’s. Be careful when you read them, they’re sad, Claire.”
Jackson had stopped looking through his box. “What’s in Callum’s? Does he have a letter?”
Marie was the quietest I’d ever seen her.
“No. There’s no letter in Callum’s.”
I knew her too well. “Was there a letter in Callum’s?”
She nodded. “There was. I saved it elsewhere. Your dad doesn’t know what was said in it and Callum didn’t need to know. It served no purpose other than a woman who clearly wasn’t well venting her feelings at the time.”
“What did it say, Mum?” I needed an idea, because what she told me would affect the decision I made next.
“She said she wished she’d never had him and words to that affect. Please don’t tell him that.” She pulled her long, curly hair back into a low ponytail. Only now was it streaked with a few grey hairs, which was a miracle when considering what we’d put her through.
I opened my letter and scanned it through. She’d told me she loved me, she’d told me about how she’d always wanted a daughter but she wished I would play with dolls and have longer hair. Then she’d written about how hard it was and how I’d find that out when I had babies of my own. I looked at the date.
It was written two days before she’d died.
“I’m going to read Max’s,” I announced, folding the letter up and placing it back in the envelope. “Jacks, have you read yours?”
Killian picked up the envelope and opened it, not asking for my permission. I knew what he was doing. A second pair of eyes to stop any knee jerk reaction from me being one I’d regret.
Max’s box had more content in it, more clothes, more school reports from when he’d first started. His letter was much the same as mine but included a long paragraph about not turning out like his father. I handed it to Jackson, who passed me his letter.
Jackson’s was shorter, less obviously distressed, but telling of a woman whose mind was not healthy.
My heart broke for her and for my dad. They’d had no support from their parents, living in a big house in the middle of the countryside with only paid help. So young and inexperienced, both with deep-rooted issues like we all had.
Only I’d had the support of my family. Marie. My dad, in his own way.
Rachael had really been on her own and probably had post-natal depression.
“Do you know she nearly died when she had Callum?” Marie said to a room that was heavy with silence. “Grant told me once about it. He wasn’t there – she went into labour suddenly and was found on the kitchen floor by Amelie’s mum next door. Callum was okay but Rachael lost a lot of blood. I think you three were looked after by Amelie’s mum for a few weeks because there wasn’t anyone around and your dad had a big court case.” She sighed. “Silly man.”
“I remember it,” Jackson said, handing me back Max’s letter. “It wasn’t a good time. I think it’s nice for us to have the toys and clothes and photos, but I think we get rid of the letters.”
I looked at Killian, seeing the slight nod that was almost imperceptible. “I’m going to give the letters to K,” I started to collect them all up. “He can put them into one of the safeboxes at his offices and they’re there. I think it would be wrong to get rid of Max’s because it’s not our property and he should know of its existence. It’s up to him to decide what to do with it. I think we should keep ours with them as the three give a story together and that’s part of our history, but I don’t want anyone stumbling across these. They’re not nice.” I handed them to Killian. He gave me a smile that told me he was good with my decision. “What do you think, Jacks?”
My brother, the most steady and level of the four of us older kids, nodded, arms folded. “Now isn’t the time for Max to read that. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time for Callum to know there was one for him.”
“Agreed. The rest of the stuff’s cute though. Ava will be able to do something with displaying it so our kids can see it. I think they’ll find it interesting.” I knew Eliza would be fascinated, and Niamh loved hearing her grandmas talking about when they were little, so my girls at least would be curious.
We packed the cars up, Killian and Owen distributing the wine – of which there was more than we expected – and packing up the other odds and sods that we knew we didn’t want to throw or leave behind.
“Are you staying over there tonight?” Marie asked when we were ready to go.
“I think so. Ava and I will go over in my car and I think Owen and Jacks are coming too.”
“Any of the kids?”
“Probably Rose, maybe Teddy,” Jackson said, giving Marie a hug. “You did the right thing, forgetting about those boxes when you did.”
She nodded. “A poor memory can be useful sometimes.”
I laughed. “Poor memory, my arse. You knew damn well what you were doing. Have you got baby keepsakes for Seph, Payton and Ava?” If all of our stuff was laid out and not theirs, Seph would sulk for a year.
“It’s already at Oxford. The wardrobe in our bedroom, top of the left hand side, next to the window. There are more school reports and photos from holidays. Have a root through it and use what you want. You can store anything in there too.”
“More treasure,” I smiled. “Anything to avoid in there? No little blue pills for dad, or sex toys?”
I could see Jackson dying out of the corner of my eye, which made this all worth it.
“Your dad doesn’t need little blue pills. Everything is in working order. You’re safe in that wardrobe, don’t go in the one next to it unless you want to be more damaged than you already are.”
“Claire will be in there later.” Killian shook his head. “So prepare for photos on the group text.”
“Never. I wouldn’t do such a thing.” I absolutely would.