Chapter 39
Lili dangled a set of keys in the air. She took a deep breath and removed her house key, putting that one back in her pocket.
The keyring was still Em’s, a Mickey Mouse one from Disney World in Florida.
When travelling in their twenties, the trips had been about visiting authentic places, and they hadn’t expected to enjoy the manmade pleasure centre as much as they had.
‘Colonel Mustard?’ chorused Dylan and Callum at the same time.
Lili was still staring at the car keys. ‘Yes.’
‘But that’s a great little car,’ said Dylan.
‘Jack loves it,’ added Callum.
What with the last-minute organisation, she’d forgotten to tell the other two that they must never question another person’s decision at her ceremonies. Yet, she understood. Colonel Mustard was special.
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘Colonel Mustard is one of a kind, that’s for sure, for so many reasons – and that’s exactly why I need to free myself from it.
All I can think of – on every journey I make – is Em and the places she drove us to, and the good times in the car, eating snacks and singing along to her 80s mixtape.
’ She raised her head. ‘Em, I need to make memories of my own now, and I can’t do that in the Mini.
Every drive, I picture us together in the front seats.
I hear your voice pointing out something silly or asking me to clarify directions.
Remember how many times I’d send you the wrong way?
You were most unforgiving!’ Lili would speedily remedy the situation by passing Em half a KitKat or the correct directions to the nearest Starbucks.
‘I need to sell Colonel Mustard.’ There.
She’d said it out loud. Tommo had a mate who knew about classic cars.
It was likely to sell at a decent price and she’d do her best to convince Colin and Shirl to take the money.
Lili lifted the keys in the air. ‘I don’t do this lightly, Colonel Mustard.
You’ve been brilliant, given me such great memories, and for your age you’ve been incredibly reliable.
I know you’ll go into good, caring hands.
Cars like you are always well looked after.
’ Her voice caught. ‘You gave Em so much pleasure, and her aunt before her. And me – even if your engine is noisier than a Formula 1 car, or so it seems. How fine you’ve looked, how full of personality.
Thanks for everything. I’m so grateful.’
A lump in her throat, Lili placed the keys on the windowsill next to the poster.
She didn’t need a photo. Perhaps she’d have one taken of her next to the Mini, before Tommo’s friend helped her sell it.
Lili glanced out of the window at the yellow car that was so small compared to modern beasts, with their airbags and big wheels and crash structures.
However, Colonel Mustard was huge when it came to character and she’d miss the Mini sitting on her drive – although she definitely wouldn’t miss the backache after a long journey.
One thing she’d keep, or rather continue to borrow, if Shirl didn’t mind, was the 80s mixtapes.
Lili would have to buy an old tape recorder to play them on. Music had been so important to Em.
Whilst eating scones in the kitchen, the three of them got talking about Christmas.
Dylan would leave for Naples on Christmas Eve morning.
Lili would drive to Manchester Christmas Eve afternoon, after closing the shop at lunchtime.
Callum was going to his ex’s for Christmas Day; they got on okay and Jack would love it.
Callum spread on more clotted cream. ‘Another reason I kept all my school stuff was that I honestly believed, if I ever had kids, my old books and notes would help their studies!’ He shook his head.
‘Education has changed so much.’ Callum wiped his mouth.
‘Today is about more than saying goodbye to a load of books and drawings,’ he said.
‘It’s hard to explain, but I already feel different inside, as if…
a balloon full of tension, in my chest, has been popped and is now deflating.
I have felt stressed about the clutter.’ He put down his knife.
‘And I’ve got plenty of memories of my school friends down at the harbour – and on Facebook. There’s even a reunion coming up.’
‘Yes, I’ve got memories of Em along the routes we used to take, whatever car I am in,’ said Lili.
‘That’s a perfect explanation, Callum, because I feel the same.’ A sheepish look crossed Dylan’s face and he looked at Lili. ‘Apologies for when I laughed at the idea of these funerals for objects.’
‘I laughed too when I first heard,’ said Lili. ‘But everything on earth, breathing or not, is made from the same building blocks – blocks that become invested with emotions, good or bad.’
‘Yeah, boy did I cry when I lost my comfort blanket as a child,’ said Callum. ‘I drove my parents mad, always taking it in the car and to family gatherings. I was a shy boy and it made me feel everything would be okay. I reckon they threw it out in the end but still won’t admit it!’
Dylan nodded. ‘My dad threw out my plushie collection when I started school. He didn’t want me getting teased when mates came around. I was gutted. Stupid really, but it upset me for ages that I never got to say goodbye to them.’
‘Not stupid at all,’ said Lili. ‘Harry kept his little teddy your nonna made all these years, didn’t he?
I’ve still got an ornament I bought from an Oxfam shop whilst in sixth form and volunteering there.
It’s a squat rainforest frog with big eyes and an angry face – always makes me laugh.
It reminds me of how much I loved working there – and how that time shaped my career. ’
The three of them reminisced about other objects that had been important to them.
Today’s ceremony had been about much-loved items. The same couldn’t be said of everything that temporarily ended up in the cupboard under her stairs.
But part of the ceremony was about recognising that any bad feelings attached to objects weren’t the objects’ fault; it was about saying goodbye in a respectful, kind manner.
Toasters, people, car keys, plants, bird feeders, turtles, posters, bacteria… Every single thing in life started off the same way, regardless of whether it ended up running for president or percolating coffee.