Chapter 26
When spring gives way fully to summer Tilly is there in the front row to see it.
She watches the colours along the canal path change from pale to vivid green on her morning runs, and sees the park filling with picnic blankets and stretched-out towels as she loops around the base of the hill, not quite brave enough to run up it yet.
Parakeets gather in the trees, and the air smells like cut grass, hot tarmac and sunscreen-scented optimism.
But as Tilly approaches the bookshop on the first of June, it strikes her that the arrival of summer means something else too.
It means she is nearly halfway through her year of books.
Her visits on the first of the month have become like bookmarks, keeping her place in the year.
But there will come a day soon when there are no books left to collect.
‘Tilly!’ says Alfie as she opens the door. ‘It’s good to see you. Let me get your book for you.’
As he turns away Tilly picks up a copy of a book about one writer’s travels through Japan which is propped up on the counter.
‘That’s our book club pick for June,’ says Blue from across the shop. ‘Well, Alfie’s pick. We take it in turns. He always picks travel memoirs or natural history. This one actually looks good, though.’
‘Meanwhile you always choose historical novels that are about a thousand pages long and no one ever actually finishes.’
Alfie holds Tilly’s parcel under his arm, this time wrapped in a green ribbon. Blue rests her elbows on the counter beside him, their bodies touching. Tilly is aware again of the easy intimacy between them.
‘I suppose that’s the good thing about a book club – it encourages you to read things you might not otherwise have picked up. Even if you don’t finish them.’
‘You should come along, Tilly!’ Blue suggests brightly.
Alfie glances at her, their eyes meeting.
‘Yes, you should. It’s a nice bunch of people. And there’ll be snacks.’
‘Well, if there are snacks …’
Tilly buys a copy of the book and takes this month’s parcel from Alfie. She considers opening it then and there but the door opens and a group of tourists step inside, instantly filling the small shop. She slips the books into her satchel and waves goodbye to Alfie and Blue.
‘See you,’ says Alfie over the heads of the customers. ‘And … good luck.’
It’s only when Tilly steps outside that his words strike her as a strange thing to say.
When she opens the package, back at home, a slim paperback falls into her hands. She stares at the cover.
‘You have got to be kidding me, Joe.’
The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter, Margareta Magnusson.
Dear Tilly,
When I heard of this book, I really liked the idea of ‘death cleaning’. It’s when you sort out your affairs so that the people you love don’t have to do it for you when you’re gone.
I like the idea a lot in theory but in practice it’s been harder than I thought to do any of that myself. I suppose there’s part of me that is still in denial about the road we’re on. All the road signs keep saying the same thing but I still don’t want to believe in this journey’s end destination.
I would like to say that by the time you read this I will have done my own death cleaning.
I will have tidied my desk and got rid of paperwork from the mid-2000s and that random box of keys that unlock things I no longer own.
Our flat will be a sparkling beacon of organization and calm. That would be nice.
If that doesn’t happen, then I hope this book helps you. Now that we’re halfway through our year of books I thought it would be a good time to remind you that our place is your home now, Tilly.
You don’t need to live in a museum of us (even though I would absolutely want to visit that museum). Don’t be afraid to let things go. You don’t need all my stuff to remember me. You’ve got all the memories.
I love you.
Joe x
P.S. I’m sorry I was such a mess to live with.
‘A sparkling beacon of organization and calm? Look at all this stuff!’
As she looks around she sees the place with new eyes.
‘Oh god, Harper was right. This place is depressing. It’s a complete tip.
I can’t believe you’ve given me a book about tidying.
Tidying up your mess. Couldn’t you have given me something nice like another cookbook?
Or a book about … the best beaches in the world or something.
I mean, what am I supposed to do with all of this? ’
She marches over to Joe’s desk and pushes her hand through a stack of papers, letters, notes and bills, all mixing together in a blur of numbers.
‘For example, what does this mean?’
The Post-it note is in Joe’s handwriting and consists of a string of random numbers. ‘Can I throw this away? Or are these numbers the code to some secret safe you never told me about? What about this box?’
She reaches randomly for the first of several boxes stacked under Joe’s desk and flips it open, lifting out a stack of bills that don’t appear to be in any particular order.
‘I assume I can throw these away? And this lease to a building you lived in back in … 2007? Three staplers. Who could possibly need three staplers? Can you give a stapler to the charity shop? Or should I just throw these in the bin?’
Things are pulled out of boxes at random. Tilly is a tornado whirling through their home and scattering Joe’s belongings like the branches of trees felled in a storm.
‘A pair of socks. Yep, Joe, your filing cabinet was definitely the right place to keep a pair of socks. What do these electrical cables even do? How about this box … Oh right, this box is a box full of boxes. Because every normal person keeps every box from every item they have ever purchased over the past ten years. I’ll just put those with the tote bag stuffed full of tote bags … Next up we have … a jar full of corks.’
She untwists the lid, ready to tip them into the bin.
‘Bins exist for a reason, Joe!’
But just before she empties the jar she spots a flash of his handwriting. A date and some words written on the bottom of a cork in black marker.