Chapter 20 #2
There was a thing Annie hadn’t considered, little old ladies finding their clothes too heavy as they grew smaller and frailer.
Underneath the coat was a wonderful lizard skin clutch that her mum had owned for decades.
The clutch that had accompanied her on every kind of fancy, dressed up event.
There was absolutely no way that that was going to be sold off, Annie decided.
Far too many memories. If she opened it up, Annie was sure she would find a packet of her mum’s trusty paper tissues and a whiff of her special ‘going out’ perfume Chanel’s fabulous No 5.
No, no that couldn’t go. She sorted expertly through the other things on the bed and it felt easy to make decisions.
Anything that was associated with direct and warm memories would have to stay, either in her mum’s wardrobe or in Annie’s own.
Anything that was neutral – wedding outfits she didn’t help her mum to choose, or couldn’t remember her mum wearing, handbags with no associations, hats…
well, she couldn’t get sentimental about hats somehow – this kind of thing could all be boxed up and added to the giveaway collection.
Annie was surprised at how emotional she felt at the thought of her mother donating old and treasured clothes.
Just the sight of those old, woven Jaeger labels brought a rush of nostalgia for her much younger mother coming home after a shopping trip, eager to show off the lovely skirt or gorgeous jumper she’d bought for herself.
Yes, she and Dinah needed to keep many of their mother’s items, even if Fern didn’t want to keep them, for all the memories they brought.
As she chatted to her mother and divided the items up into donate and keep, Annie thought about Florence and that entire, jam-packed house that she was patiently working her way through, all by herself it seemed.
Annie felt a deep wave of sympathy for the woman.
What a sad and completely draining task.
And the house was vast, she would have all the kitchen contents and packed bookcases, art works, and clutter to sort through, let alone packed wardrobes of clothes.
Weeks and weeks of time. And always the worry about ‘should I have given this away or kept it?’
And now this decision to anonymously donate such priceless and important items…
and Annie burdening her with having to find out where the items had come from.
She should offer to help Florence, she decided.
She was the one with the fashion contacts, so why not put Florence in touch with the people who could help?
* * *
‘The funny one…’ Fern had a look of confusion and anxiety across her face as she looked at Annie across the dinner table. ‘Who is the funny one?’ She couldn’t remember who she was trying to ask her daughter about but Annie smiled and set her fork down.
‘The funny one, that has to be Owen, doesn’t it, my boy, your grandson?’
‘Owen?’ for a moment Fern didn’t look convinced. But then she decided maybe it was Owen.
‘Let’s send him a message and see if he’s around,’ Annie suggested. ‘On my phone… remember he’s gone to university in Scotland.’
‘Scotland?’ Fern sounded vaguely horrified.
‘I know, so far away… I do miss him.’ She wasn’t quite sure if Fern was following. It was coming up to 7 p.m. and her mother was getting tired and that was when the fading and confusion seemed much worse. She typed out a quick:
Hello, O, I’m at Grandma’s. How is your day going and do you want to send her a little message?
Ping…
She waited. Then felt quite ridiculously happy to see the little dots appearing to indicate that Owen was alive and well and reading messages on his phone.
Hey, Mum
Owen began in that stream of tiny messages which he and every other kidult seemed to have to do.
All good.
Fun times.
How is Grandma? Big hug from me.
Wait… I’ll send her a crazy cat dance, she’ll like that.
Annie wasn’t convinced that Fern would, but she sent Owen a smiley face and some thumbs-up emojis anyway.
And after a moment or two, some video or maybe animation or maybe something created in an AI bot’s fever dream popped up onto her screen involving a blurry cat serving tea out of a teapot.
But Annie didn’t think Fern needed that kind of confusion in her life.
‘Owen sent a message to give you a big hug,’ she told her mother. And got a smile in return. ‘Are you getting tired?’
‘Oh no. But I don’t like this fish,’ Fern said in a tone that sounded almost like Minette’s. ‘I think I’d like to eat my trifle.’
‘Maybe one more mouthful of fish?’ Annie wondered, looking down at the plate. But Fern’s face was set. ‘Trifle,’ she said.
‘Shall I look in the fridge?’
Fern nodded.
When Annie opened the door of the fridge in her mother’s kitchen, she was surprised to see that the top shelf was packed with individual M&S trifles.
She took one out to take a closer look at the contents – thick custard, fruit chunks, sponge and a generous dollop of cream on top.
Not exactly health food. And she couldn’t remember much trifle ever being served by her mum.
So, she wondered if this was a comfort food, a nostalgia food from her mother’s childhood even.
Maybe once you reached a certain age, you were grateful for every day and you weren’t going to care about whether you should be eating one or even two trifles a day.
By the time Annie had finished up in the kitchen and had a goodnight call with the twins, Lauren and then Ed in turn, Fern was dozing in front of the TV. So, she helped her get ready for bed. And it was lovely to gently brush her hair, hold her hand and kiss her goodnight before she got into bed.
‘You are spoiling me, Annie,’ Fern told her.
‘Yes, I am and there’s nothing wrong with that. You spoiled us all – in a good way,’ she added.
‘Your fashion show…’ Fern added dreamily.
‘I don’t think I can come. I’m a little busy.
’ Annie wondered if her mum meant that the show would be a little too busy for her, as she couldn’t imagine there was a packed schedule ahead for her mum these days, especially as her two close friends had passed away in the last year.
‘No problem, Mum,’ Annie said gently. ‘Lauren will be there and she’ll make a little video for you to watch.’
‘On the TV?’
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘Yes… the show… where you help the women who want to move on in their lives. Show them dressing for success. It’s a lovely thing, Annie.
A lovely thing.’ Show them dressing for success…
oh for goodness’ sake! That was of course the perfect, perfect idea.
As well as the professional models and the dance school girls, they had to talk to the charity and see if there were some women they were helping who would like to be involved.
And now Annie’s mind was racing on ahead imagining glamorous makeovers, getting the women to pick the music they wanted to strut down the catwalk to – and if they were a little shy or scared, they would go in pairs, holding hands if needed, supporting each other and doing all the good things that the charity was all about.
And wouldn’t Lauren love to help with this too?
Because it would be worthy and purposeful.
‘Mum, you are a genius,’ she said, which made Fern giggle. ‘Goodnight, sleep tight and I will see you in the morning.’
* * *
Once her mum was tucked up in bed, Annie settled into the sofa with her laptop and phone and fired off a volley of messages.
Svetlana updates, Paula updates – and asking them both what they thought of the idea of doing a Thrive Dressing section in the show.
She thought it best to get their approval before she went to the charity to ask.
Time is tight to arrange it all,
she typed,
But the more I think about it, the more I think it is a genius idea and we should do what we can to make it happen!
When it was finally bedtime, she turned off the sidelight and lay in the guest bed in the guest room looking, eyes wide open, at the dark ceiling.
Honestly, she had thought she was tired, but now that the light was out, now that it was late and she had a packed day tomorrow and really should be sleeping, now her mind was brightly awake, clear as day, absolutely no chance of sleep whatsoever.
All kinds of half-baked plans, suggestions, ideas and to-do lists were whirling around her head.
She thought of the section of her wardrobe at home filled with all the gadgets and potential cures she’d bought in the past year to help her sleep.
Valerian teabags, an acupressure mat and matching pillow, cashmere bed socks, lavender infused eye masks, a weighted blanket…
pillow spray, magnesium cream, so many different vitamins and pills… nothing seemed to have worked for her.
The acupressure mat… she found herself giggling at the memory.
This ‘modern equivalent of an Indian bed of nails’ had proved to be so spiky that as soon as her skin had made contact with it, she’d had to try and get up, but somehow she’d fallen back down on the thing and it had dug in even worse.
Until she’d had to shout for Ed to get out of bed and help her.
‘For God’s sake, Annie, what next?’ he’d protested.
‘How is stabbing yourself before bed going to help? Here’s an idea for you…
have you thought about giving up coffee?
Or maybe not drinking it after say 2 p.m.?
I think you’ll find your entire sleep issue will just disappear. ’
They’d gone to bed in a huff. Annie angry that he didn’t understand how coffee was the only thing that got her through the day.
Ed annoyed that she couldn’t take this simple and obvious piece of advice.
And to make things worse, one of the twins had called out in the night and when Ed had got up to go and check on them, he’d trod hard on the acupressure mat in his bare feet.
So confined to the depths of the cupboard it was.
Ed deserved a lovely wedding anniversary gift was her next thought.
Even if he’d told her not to get one for him.
She switched on the light, picked up her phone and turned, inevitably, even though her eyes were burning with tiredness, to Google.
Perfect wedding anniversary gifts for men
she typed in. When a profusion of perfume bottles, rings and handbags appeared, she was confused, until she realised she had typed in:
Perfect wedding anniversary gifts for me
Men
Annie corrected her mistake. She looked at the suggestions that had been provided.
Personalised golf clubs?! Oh, for heaven’s sake.
‘Siri?’ she asked wearily. ‘What do I get Ed as an anniversary gift?’ There was a pause.
That weird moment when you realise the computer is always listening.
Siri wasn’t thinking though, Siri was obeying the task to collect the most appropriate data.
It took only moments for Siri to reply and this reply startled Annie.
The answer was so good, clever, perfect! Why hadn’t she thought of that?