Chapter 23
23
I had a massive job on my hands getting prepared for the major work to begin and it was a good thing that I did because it meant that the conversation that Seamus and I recently had wasn’t my main priority. I was still trying not to think about the looming wedding. Michelle did ask me recently what I was planning to wear and was stunned when I said I hadn’t a clue yet. My way of dealing with it was to pretend it wasn’t happening and that was quite easy while there was so much going on within the grounds of the cottage.
Luckily there were another couple of smaller brick buildings, probably one once a coal shed and the other an outside loo, so I was able to dump a lot of the rubbish in there. I’d spent a couple of weeks where I filled the recycling bins ten times over and hired numerous skips, cursing myself for getting rid of the Range Rover before I tackled this part of the project. Whilst I was sure Aunty June might have been turning in her grave to see all the things she’d been keeping over the years get thrown out, it just had to go. It appeared that she’d saved every single butter tub she’d ever used since the 1960s. Mum said it was probably because she came from an era when they didn’t have lots of money, so literally saved everything just in case they ever needed it.
While throwing away her things, it also gave me the courage to get rid of some of the items that I’d been saving too; things that I hadn’t looked at for years from when the girls were at school and wedding presents that had been in the loft for years, never touched. While I’d had a good sort out when I left Staffordshire to come to Cornwall, there was still a lot from my previous life that I was hanging on to, which I now realised was unnecessary and not helpful. It felt cathartic and refreshing. At the end of each day my body ached like never before, but I was invigorated and raring to go every morning when I woke up.
Theo kept me company most days, which was nice in that I had someone to talk to, or probably at. Seamus came round and helped me at the weekends but was finishing off the electrical jobs that he had in his schedule, so that it freed up some time for the work I needed doing. We worked so well together, the flirty banter between us gone now but still plenty of jokes and laughs. I loved being in his company and had resigned myself to the fact that we would only ever be friends. And that was enough for me. After all, I didn’t need a hero in my life. I needed friends. It had taken me till now to realise that it was up to me to make myself happy. That was my job and no one else’s. I felt whole and felt like I’d come a really long way in the last few weeks since moving to Sandpiper Shore. And once the wedding was out of the way, along with the guilt I felt about trying not to think about what should be a really happy day and the best day of my daughter’s life, I really did feel that this move was the best decision that I’d ever made.
Emma and Michelle had come over a few times over the last couple of weeks and got on like a house on fire – I knew they would – so it was looking more and more likely they’d both be moving in eventually.
I wanted to have a move around in the main house too, as Mum had mentioned that she might visit soon. Whilst I tried to move everything I could myself, I did have to ask Seamus to help me with the room that Emma had previously stayed in. As we moved the big old wooden bed to make the most of the view, I kicked something with my foot and realised that it must be the old suitcase that Emma had mentioned.
‘Bear with me one sec while I just go and put this downstairs. Won’t be long.’
Heavy and awkward, it was cumbersome to carry, and not knowing how strong it was I carefully placed it on the wooden chest which sat to the side of the French doors in the lounge. I was wondering if the rusty catch still worked. I fumbled with the lock, working it loose with each wiggle as it was stiff at first and it was just starting to budge a little when Seamus shouted down.
‘You haven’t forgotten me, have you, Jo Jenkins?’ I still loved the way he said my full name. It made me feel like it was his little nickname for me. I felt special, even if it was just as a friend, and I hadn’t felt special to someone for a long time.
‘On my way,’ I yelled back, as the catch sprang open. ‘Bingo!’
I lifted the lid, and the strong musky smell of something having been stored for years got right into my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose, willing the sneeze to go away.
Inside, under the paperwork that I’d previously seen lying on the top, were bundles of old envelopes tied together with lilac ribbon and underneath them a pile of old photographs, of all sizes and shapes.
‘Jo Jenkins. Are you really on your way?’
I wasn’t being fair to Seamus to keep him waiting but I was drawn to the case. An invisible force was willing me to delve further into its contents.
But knowing that this would have to wait, I closed the lid and patted the suitcase on the top, saying, ‘I’ll see you later!’ as I did so. I was laughing to myself as I walked back upstairs, clearly going a little bit bonkers if I thought that talking to a suitcase was a sane thing to do.
‘Seamus? You do know that if you have anything more exciting to do, each time I call you to ask for your help you only have to say so.’
He laughed back at me.
‘This is the most exciting thing I do. Have you not yet noticed that there’s not a great deal going on in this little seaside town?’
‘Well, I’ve heard there’s a carnival coming up soon. That sounds like something to look forward to.’
‘You’ve clearly never been to the Sandpiper Shore carnival then. The locals all dress up in silly costumes, all have too much to eat and drink, someone normally ends up in the sea in the middle of the night and the lifeboat has to go out and rescue them. Happens every year. It’s almost part of the tradition.’
‘Wow. Sounds like a bundle of fun. Can’t wait.’ We both laughed.
‘It is something to do, I suppose. It brings the community together. Even those who we don’t see very often come out on carnival day. The local council arranges for the main promenade to be cordoned off so the floats can be driven down and if you’re lucky you might get to join in with the local Morris dancers.’
‘An opportunity not to be missed,’ I said seriously. ‘I used to be a Morris dancer, Seamus.’
Seamus’s head swung round so quickly, it made me laugh.
‘I love a bell,’ I added. ‘I joined a bell-ringing group at our local church once too but I got kicked out because I kept on getting my ding and my dong mixed up.’ I turned away, trying to hide my smile.
‘Oh my God, Jo! Really? You never cease to amaze me, you know.’
I turned round to face him and burst out laughing.
‘You muppet. Of course I didn’t. And I wasn’t a Morris dancer either. I was pulling your leg.’
‘I proper believed you then. I couldn’t imagine you in a bell-ringing group. I could maybe see you Morris dancing though. Honestly, Jo, you crack me up.’
Seamus always seemed to find me funny and I loved winding him up so that he did. It made me happy to see him laugh. I really enjoyed being in his company, though I had to be careful that I didn’t enjoy it too much as we were just friends who got on like a house on fire. I was glad that I knew where we stood before my already bruised heart got even more damaged.
When Seamus left later that evening, I went straight to the suitcase. It was almost as if it had been tapping away at my brain all day and part of me felt bad that I couldn’t wait for him to go so that I could delve into it. I knelt down beside the wooden chest on which it was resting and took out the photographs, trying to put them into order from the dates on the back.
Most were of two women, evidently friends. Right at the bottom of the pile, I pulled out two photos larger than the rest. The first was a wedding photograph and I flipped it over but couldn’t make out the names on the back, worn away years ago along with the date. The couple were smiling at each other and holding hands, clearly head over heels in love. He was a handsome man, tall, broad shouldered in his forces uniform. The woman was dressed in a smart suit with a huge hat which partially covered her face. The only thing glaringly obvious about her was she undoubtedly adored the man that she had just married. Her eyes looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place her. I did wonder if it was Aunty June, or even Tessa.
The other was of the same couple but this time they were flanked by another pair: a very glamorous woman, also in a pale-coloured dress and matching jacket, and another handsome uniformed man. When I turned over this photo, I saw there was nothing written on the back but it was taken on the same day. I wondered who the couple were and whether they were still alive today.
This sent me off down a rabbit hole, cracking open a bottle of wine and fetching my own wedding album. I’d tackle June’s photographs another day.
As I looked through my own wedding photographs, a few tears threatened, as I thought over the way things had turned out. What would I do with this album now? I couldn’t imagine the girls would want it. And Michael certainly wouldn’t. Maybe it was silly to hang on to these pictures. I put the album on the sideboard where it taunted me for a couple of hours, and after I’d finished my dinner that night, I jumped up with steely determination.
‘Right. Off you go.’ I headed outside and threw it into the wheelie bin, happy to hear the thud as it hit the bottom. My wedding dress could go too, I decided. And so, fuelled by Pinot Grigio, I stomped up the stairs to fetch that, and it followed with a hearty shout of, ‘Have that, you motherfucker!’ as the lid slammed shut.
‘Evening, Jo.’
I clutched my chest and caught my breath when I saw Kate from next door standing at her front door, the telltale orange glow from the end of a cigarette and the smell of smoke wafting across the front garden.
‘God, you scared the life out of me.’ We both laughed at the shock she’d given me.
‘Well, you were clearly having a moment and I wanted to check that all was OK.’
‘Ah, yes. Just decluttering some memories.’ Not sure why I felt the need to explain but if I didn’t she’d probably think me a complete and utter nutcase.
‘Good for the soul, Jo. A good clear-out sometimes does you the world of good.’
‘You OK?’ I asked. It wasn’t like her to be standing out here. I usually found her sitting on her chair on her decking. ‘What are you doing out the front?’
‘Mum’s here. Just having a crafty fag. I’m forty-seven and she still doesn’t know I smoke. How ridiculous is it that I’m not brave enough to tell her?’
We both laughed again.
Before I went to bed, I went back out to the wheelie bin, this time making sure that there was no one around, and made sure that I put the remnants of my salmon dinner right on the top of the contents, so I didn’t change my mind and try to retrieve them. When I woke the following morning, with a thumping hangover, and heard the refuse collection wagon outside, my heart gave a little jolt, as I wondered whether I’d done the right thing or not. However, as I stared out of the window as it pulled out of the road, it was just a little bit too late to change my mind.