The Memory Dress

Chapter Thirty

THIRTY

Jayne

I’m sitting in one of the pretty private gardens that fronts one of the crescents north of the city center with Fitz, a mature Labrador whose bouncy days are behind him. He lives in one of the houses behind us and so we have the key that allows us access to this beautiful patch of green. I’ve chosen one of the wooden benches that circles a tree trunk in the center of the park, so I can just see the very tops of the buildings of Bath below, glowing pale orange in the first of Thursday’s sunlight.

Fitz and I have been sitting here some time. He’s the only dog I walk without actually walking. He’s old, fifteen now, and it is company and belly rubs he craves, not exercise. So we’ve been sitting together for a very companiable hour, but today is different. Someone else has joined us.

“What a stunning view. You are so lucky to see this part of the day, every day, Jayne. It’s so…calming.” Jake pauses before adding, “Was it a deliberate choice today?” He looks toward me, trying to read my face for a reaction, and I realize he remembers today is my birthday.

“I think maybe it was.” I smile and he understands. “Mum will call soon, and I’ll drive back to her place later. We’ll do what we always do, sit together, just the two of us, in the memorial garden she planted thirty years ago, when flowers were one of the few things she said could bring her peace.” I let my fingers find Fitz’s belly, and he rolls over, offering the softest part of himself up to me.

“Has it got any easier over the years, for your mum?”

“She’s learned to live alongside it. But I know the length of time that took baffled some friends. It was as if somehow they felt the number of minutes Mum held my sister in her arms should equate to how long it should take to move on with her own life, to be grateful for what she did have. But that was to ignore the impact of my sister’s loss and my grandmother’s grief and how hard those combined forces hit my mum. In many ways, Mum was so strong, she found a way to put her other children before her own grief. But watching her own mother fall apart at a time in her life when she should have been surrounded by happy, beautiful granddaughters and not have a care in the world? It was too much. They should have been her golden years. Mum lost a daughter and then her mother.”

I feel nothing but enormous relief saying this aloud to Jake, knowing that he won’t look for a way to fix something that won’t ever be mended.

He nods slowly. “And how about you? Is there any part of you that feels you can celebrate the day?”

“No. I haven’t told anyone in the house. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with the attention. The day will just slip by, unnoticed. That’s what always seems to work best.” Later, when I’m alone again, I know I’ll contemplate the same quiet questions I always do. But there are fresh thoughts to ponder, too, now. What is worse—to have been denied the joy of growing up as a fiercely protective twosome, or to be lucky enough to find it for yourself, to live deeply within it and then be forced to watch as it slowly seeps away, gently enough for you to see, fast enough that you cannot reach out and pull it back? Isn’t the fresher agony of Meredith’s burden far greater than mine?

Jake looks at his watch. “I wish I could stay longer, but I need to get to the shop. I wanted to give you this before I go.” He pulls a small package from the inside pocket of his jacket, neatly wrapped in yellow-and-white-striped paper and tied with twine. “It’s not from me. Olivia asked me to give it to you. I have no idea how she knew but…I said I would.”

I haven’t been given a birthday present from someone who isn’t family for a very long time. Probably not since school. The view of Bath beyond the park starts to swim away from me. My throat dries, making it impossible for me to say anything.

“She would have given it to you herself, but she worked at the Live Well Center until late last night and knew she’d need the lie-in, I guess.”

I pull the paper from the package and inside is a beautiful hardback book, The Language of Flowers . Olivia has written a short note on the opening page: Give yourself the time to enjoy it .

I know I will treasure it forever.

I haven’t said a word to Meredith about the fact we are all trying to find Fiona and, now that it seems we could be getting closer, it feels dishonest not to. I need to see how she reacts. But I also selfishly want her company today. I want to feel that unconditional kindness and trust, her lack of judgment. Is it wrong that I want to say things to her with the safety net of knowing they will probably be forgotten? I knock quietly on Meredith’s door. I haven’t seen her today. It was Davina’s turn to check on her this morning, and when she opens up, I am relieved to see she is wearing a cool lemon dress with a light coffee-colored cashmere cardigan draped over her shoulders. She looks lovely. As our eyes connect, I see the slightest flicker of hesitation, then she smiles at me and says, “Jayne,” and the lump is back in my throat again. I have to drop my gaze to my shoes.

“Hello, Meredith. Have you got time for a cup of tea?” I ask, blinking away the tears that are threatening to come.

“I don’t know, you tell me!” she laughs.

“Maybe just a quick one, then, and a biscuit if you have any.”

The place is spotless. Olivia has done an amazing job, because all the dust and grime are gone. The entire apartment feels larger, brighter. But every fiber of Meredith remains, exactly as she likes it. We take a seat in the drawing room, overlooking the sheep outside.

“Are you sad, Jayne?” Meredith’s question takes me by surprise.

“Sort of but, well, it’s a long story. But I shouldn’t be. It’s my birthday today.” I force a smile.

“Happy birthday, darling.” She stands and leans over me, planting the faintest kiss on my forehead. “Definitely not a day to feel glum. I’ve stopped counting mine now, obviously. Shall I see if I have some cake? Diana sent me a birthday cake,” she announces.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’ve no idea who told her, but I was working very late. It was just William and me. There was a knock at the door, and when I opened it, a motorbike courier handed me a large white cardboard box. It was vanilla sponge with fresh cream and English strawberries. And our dinner, as it turned out, since we didn’t have time to stop and make anything else!”

“What an incredibly kind thing to do for you.”

“Yes. It made me feel very happy and valued.” She looks at me then. “Everyone deserves to be happy, including you, Jayne.” A weak smile plays across her lips and I feel sorry that I have to end her playfulness with talk of finding Fiona.

I’m working out how best to phrase what I have to say when she adds, “I wonder if I will ever get to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her again.”

“To Diana?”

“To Fiona.”

“Would you like to?”

“Oh yes, very much, but…” She understands there is more, but it sits just out of her grasp.

Now is my chance.

“How would you feel if I could bring Fiona here, to see you again? Would you like that?” I stumble slightly over the name and it rattles her.

“No, I don’t think so.” There is a nervousness in the speed at which she responds. “She doesn’t know anything. William keeps a lot from her. She’s too busy and too angry.”

“Do you think she might like to know what’s going on, Meredith? How you’re doing and the help you need? If you like, I could help her to understand?”

“No, you mustn’t do that.” Her eyes look confused again. “William won’t like it. She’s not supposed to know.”

She shifts her weight back into her chair and sighs loudly, crossing her legs and hugging her arms across her chest. I think about how to rephrase the question, how I might convince her finding Fiona is for the best. She senses I’m going to have another go and cuts me off.

“I understand that I can’t stop you.” She looks defeated. The sadness of Meredith making her feelings known while predicting that they will be ignored sends a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. That if I do as I am suggesting, then her situation is being managed around her, not with her. “There’s no need to worry,” she says, smiling sadly. “You’ve done more than enough for me. William will be home soon, he will look after me.” The chair seems to swallow her small frame. “Oh gosh, now look, I’ve forgotten to get you a cup of tea.” All the natural ease Meredith was displaying when I arrived has gone. The mention of Fiona has made her agitated and tense and I follow her into the kitchen to help. But as soon as she steps into the room, her nervousness soars.

“No! What has happened! What have you done! This isn’t right.” She’s spinning around the room, unable to focus on one single thing. Her voice is rasping in the back of her throat, her eyes wild, full of anger. I want to reach out and touch her, to ground her again, but for the first time I fear she might strike me.

“It’s okay, Meredith, whatever is wrong, we can make it right.” I raise my open palms to indicate I will do whatever she asks. “Just tell me what’s upsetting you so much?” If only I’d left the door to her apartment open, one of the others might hear and come to help. But I know there is little chance of that. I’m on my own.

“William made these cupboards. He drew out the design, sanded the wood, painted them himself! Who has destroyed them? How could anyone do such a thing?” She’s sobbing hard, with no sign that her distress will run out of steam. It’s not the first time she has seen the kitchen cupboards since the others—we thought helpfully—removed the doors, but it’s the first time she’s reacting to their absence.

“Okay, we can make it better again.” I hope Jake did what he originally suggested and stored the doors in the basement. “Please don’t worry. I can—” But I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence. Meredith picks up a bag of bread from the work surface and hurls it at me, scattering slices across the floor. I bend and start to pick them up, which only angers her more.

“Get out! Get out!” she yells, and I have no alternative but to leave her, my legs heavy beneath me. She is sitting on the floor of her kitchen, her knees drawn up to her chest, her head buried between tightly folded arms, like a child so blinded by anger that she can’t make any sense of her own emotions. I realize, despite the promise I made her to never give up, I don’t know if I can go on. I can’t keep doing this to her.

As I leave her apartment, I bump straight into Olivia, who looks shattered, and it reminds me that I am due to walk Teddy for her this afternoon.

I try my hardest to push the emotion back down inside me, to mask how flustered I’m feeling, but I can’t fool Olivia. She sees the stress in my face and looks beyond me to Meredith’s door, immediately understanding the cause.

“Are you okay, Jayne?” She takes a step closer toward me.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about me. A tough night?” I ask, because I see the exhaustion hanging in her shoulders and I want to shift the focus away from me.

“It really was, yes. Not that I would change it.” She exhales and leans the weight of her body into the wall. “I know people think it’s good of me to do it but, honestly, it’s a lot less altruistic than that. It probably helps me more. This job has taught me how people hold on to their problems and the damage that can do. I’m not sure how some of these callers would cope if we weren’t there to listen—but I’m also not sure how much longer I could have coped either.”

“Really?” Is my face giving me away? Does Olivia know I have called the number myself?

“We’re all the same, deep down, aren’t we? We all have these emotions held inside of us and they stay that way, sometimes for years, still feeling true. Until finally we start to talk about them. I suppose I can’t listen to other people’s problems night after night without sharing a few of my own.”

“That makes a lot of sense. I wish Meredith had had access to something like this earlier, when it may have helped.”

“We can’t reach everyone but, yes, those we do are incredibly fortunate. Me included.” She smiles at her own fragility, a recognition that she needs help, just like the rest of us. “It’s forced me to confront how I use the endless deadlines to mask the pain I still feel about Mum’s death.” She lets out a deep sigh. “There, I said it out loud.”

I feel bad that I’ve never questioned Olivia’s motivations more deeply before but also very touched that she feels able to share this with me now. “You know I am here, if you ever need to talk?”

“Thanks, Jayne, that would be good sometime. And it works both ways, remember. But first, I need sleep.”

“Okay, thank you for the book. It was incredibly thoughtful of you and I love it.”

She smiles as she heads up the stairs to her front door. “And don’t worry about Teddy. We’ll curl up together this afternoon. It’s a day for cuddles, I reckon.”

I spend the afternoon going over and over the scenes with Meredith. What should I have said? How could I have handled it better? Should I simply have never mentioned Fiona’s name? I don’t knock on Meredith’s door again, but I do make several visits to it, standing there for minutes at a time, listening for any sign of distress from inside. By the third visit, I can hear her moving around the flat, humming her usual tune to herself, and finally I can relax a little.

I’m not sure she will ever trust me again. It is William she needs. The one person on this earth she will never doubt.

I wanted to tell her I can’t be sure he’s ever coming home from wherever he is, to desperately try to make her understand why it’s important we seek this extra help for her. Why we really must find and inform Fiona. I thought today was the moment to be cruel in order to be kind. To play on the closeness we have created to make her see that her situation is not sustainable, that she will feel only more confused as the months and years grind on.

I’m holding back the tears as I answer a call from Mum on my mobile.

“Oh, Jayne.” She hears the sadness in my voice and wrongly attributes it to the day. “Come over. Let’s sit in the garden and chat. I want to hug you and tell you how much I love you.”

I hang up and call the helpline, saying everything I know would upset Mum. The freedom to let it all out, completely unfiltered, is the gift I decide to give myself today—and it is wonderful.

By seven o’clock Jake and I are sitting at Davina’s kitchen island, while she’s throwing different-shaped crisps into random bowls, Jake comfortingly close to me while Maggie, who is wearing a black catsuit, fluffy cat ears, and a clip-on black-and-white-striped tail, plonks herself down to my left.

“What are you dressed for, Maggie?” I ask.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She curls her top lip up at me, pulls her chin in like I am the greatest fool she has ever been forced to suffer.

“Oh, um, not to me, no.” I glance around the room. Everyone else looks equally confused.

“Jeez. Halloween, dummy.” She tosses her eyes skyward.

“But…it’s July. Halloween’s not until the end of October.” She’s so confident, I am actually doubting myself.

“Who says it has to be the end of October?” She looks genuinely confused by this.

“See what you’ve started,” laughs Davina. “Do not try to reason with her, Jayne, it will get you precisely nowhere. Go on, Maggie, the adults have things to discuss.” Her eyes keep flicking to the door and I wonder if Willow is due home too.

“But what time can we go trick-or-treating?”

Davina looks mildly horrified. She glances at the clock on the wall.

“I’m not sure that’s going to work, Maggie, since no one else on the street is expecting Halloween visitors tonight. Help yourself to some sweets from the cupboard if you must.”

We all watch Maggie’s shoulders slump, let down again by unimaginative adults who are slaves to something as pedestrian as the yearly calendar, not driven by their own creative force like Maggie is.

“I reckon I’ve got some treats I can rustle up”—Jake offers her a conspiratorial wink—“come and trick-or-treat at mine later.”

“Thank you, Jake”—she sneers at the rest of us—“at least someone understands me.” Is there a female alive, I wonder as Maggie sashays off, who is immune to Jake’s charms?

“Jayne, there is something very exciting we need to show you.” Davina’s attention is back with me. I feel them all bristle with excitement. They’re trying to contain their smiles, especially Davina, who looks like she might burst at any moment.

She pulls a laptop out of her bag and taps away, locating a file.

“I had the idea while you were both in London after a conversation with Olivia about her mother’s life story,” explains Davina. “It’s a technique used in the study and care of dementia patients where they bring together lots of different elements from a person’s history into one place. It could be something as simple as a photo album. Or, in this case, a collection of newspaper cuttings, old film footage, voice recordings, music that means something. It becomes a wonderful point of reference for the person who might be losing their grip on who they were and who they are now. I’ve made a hard copy, too, so Meredith will always have it on hand, she can access the images anytime she likes. I think you’re going to love it. I hope it will really help her.”

I have to say something. I have to cut through the collective excitement, because we can’t continue with our plans after Meredith made it crystal clear this morning that she does not want Fiona to be found. I can’t risk any further escalation of her outbursts and the emotional damage they may be doing to her.

“Before you show me, I think you both need to know something.”

The room falls very quiet because they instinctively sense this isn’t going to be good news.

“Has something happened? She was absolutely fine this morning.” Davina’s mind has jumped to the worst conclusion.

“Physically, she’s fine. At least she was when I saw her late this morning. But emotionally…” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can keep going with this. I asked Meredith today if she would like us to find Fiona and she made it very clear that we can’t because William wouldn’t like it. She was also incredibly upset about the removal of her kitchen cupboard doors. It turns out William made them.”

“Oh no. It never even crossed my mind that might be the case.” Jake looks crushed by the realization that in trying to help, we have made matters worse, just as Olivia predicted we might.

No one says anything. We just look at one another, perhaps accepting this has to be it now. We’ve gone as far as we can go.

“I’m really sorry, because I’m sure you’ve gone to a lot of effort with whatever it is you were going to show me. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard for everyone to get involved. But clearly, she doesn’t want Fiona’s help, she doesn’t even want her found. This morning, when I introduced the subject of Fiona, her reaction wasn’t good. It was really upsetting to see and—”

“Upsetting to see?” Davina’s attitude has shifted. She looks motivated by the setback, not defeated by it. “Well, imagine what it’s like to live through then! We can’t just abandon her, Jayne. This isn’t about us and how we feel, it’s about helping a woman who currently has no one else.”

“Davina, just let Jayne explain, I’m sure that’s not what she means.” Jake tries to throw a calming influence over the room, and me a lifeline.

“She says Fiona’s too busy and too angry and that William kept things from her,” I say, trying my best to defend my rationale. “There must be a reason for that, and it’s made me question our cause. Are we treading somewhere we shouldn’t be? At the very least are we completely disrespecting Meredith’s wishes?” I’m not offended by Davina’s response to my doubts. In fact, I love her for it. She cares. Deeply, by the looks of it. Watching her now, fighting for what she feels is best and right for Meredith, is more than I could have hoped for when I first delivered flowers to her door.

“Listen, none of us were in London dealing with what you were. I have no doubt it was hard, and you had to manage it all alone.”

My eyes flick to Jake. Not entirely alone.

“Can I suggest you watch the film we have worked so hard on? If you still feel the same way afterward, then we will have to respect your wishes and Meredith’s. Can we all agree on that?”

Jake nods, and I’m compelled to as well because I can’t imagine it will make any difference to the conclusion I’ve reached.

“Okay, gather round,” she says, hovering her finger over the play arrow on the laptop screen. But she pauses as there’s a loud hammering on the door, which no one other than me seems surprised to hear.

“I’m here, I’m here!” It’s Carina’s voice from the other side. The others must have invited her, because I had forgotten to with all the emotion of the day.

She edges carefully through the door, carrying a large frosted cake covered in multicolored fondant icing petals, and candles that she must have paused in the hallway to light.

“Happy birthday, Jayne!” everyone is shouting and cheering, and a bottle of champagne is pulled from Davina’s fridge. Then Olivia appears. “There better be a slice for me too!”

Maggie flies in astride a broomstick and starts to sing me “Happy Birthday.” My face is frozen.

Then Jake is at my side. “I hope this is okay?” he whispers to me, looking suddenly nervous that it might not be. “We couldn’t let it pass without letting you know how very special you are.” He kisses me gently on the lips, lingering long enough for everyone to see we are no longer merely neighbors.

“Well, thank heavens for that!” bellows Davina, unable to help herself.

“CAKE!” yells Maggie.

“Yes!” shouts Carina, and Jake takes the cake from her before she drops it.

I feel a rolling swell of emotion build somewhere low in my belly. It travels up through me and I try so hard not to let it reach my throat, but I can’t stop it. I cover my mouth with both hands to muffle the sound but it’s no good. I stand in Davina’s kitchen, surrounded by these wonderful people, and gently sob, for so many reasons. But maybe tonight, for once, they are the right reasons. I feel loved by people whom I am slowly allowing to see the real me. Who are slowly becoming the dearest friends.

“Jake, please cut Maggie a slice of cake or she’ll never leave us alone.” Davina’s eye catches mine and I know she senses there is more to this than my being a little overwhelmed by a surprise birthday cake. I know there will be a time in the next month or two when I will sit down with her. Maggie will be in bed. Willow will be doing her homework or out with a friend and Davina will ask about tonight, its deeper meaning. And I will tell her.

But for now, Davina waits until her daughter is back on her broomstick and heading for the sofa before she clicks on the play arrow and a beautiful sepia shot of Meredith and William fills the screen.