Chapter 20
Lili glanced at her phone. It was a quarter to two.
She tipped the crumbs and bits of grated cheese left over from her sandwich into her palm and held out her hand.
Bobbin flew over. The bird couldn’t have looked more festive a minute ago, perched on the branch of a holly bush.
The air was crisp and she could almost smell Christmas in the air – mince pies, turkey, mulled wine.
It was one month exactly to Christmas Eve.
The robin puffed out its chest and pecked at the cheese.
‘It’s mature cheddar. Your favourite,’ she said.
Bobbin stopped pecking and straightened up.
Its beak opened. Oh, what notes of pure joy floated into her garden – or rather staccato chirps that quick-stepped.
Lili wished she could bottle the song and remove the stopper whenever she needed a lift.
Bird recordings on Spotify didn’t give the same hit.
Lili got up and spotted a beautiful maroon ivy leaf on the patio.
Carefully, she slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans, went inside and took off her coat and shoes.
She brushed her hair and turned up the heating.
She hadn’t heard from Dylan since she’d texted about Harry and Vegas, apart from a thumbs up emoji and that he’d ask him.
It was now Sunday again, one week later.
She’d just lit the incense sticks when the roar of a motorbike sounded out the front.
Lili checked the room before hurrying into the hallway as someone knocked. She opened the door.
‘Trevor, come on in.’
Trevor was a motorcyclist friend of Tommo.
He lived in Portloe. The leather biker jacket had seen better days and had badges sewn across it, some bearing skulls or eagle wings.
He came in and took off his boots. Lili hung up the jacket.
That was unexpected – underneath he wore a conservative jumper and shirt, both looking as if they’d come from Marks that I don’t have to achieve worldwide fame for my life to mean something important. ’
Trevor listened intently.
‘I’ve got my A levels and am on a gap year,’ she continued. ‘The next step will be applying to university.’
‘Sounds exciting,’ said Lili gently. ‘What do you want to study?’
‘Psychology,’ she said. Rosie looked from Trevor to Lili. ‘Um… I say a few words to Jumbo, a goodbye, right?’
‘Whatever you want,’ said Lili.
Rosie held Jumbo with both hands. ‘Thanks, Jumbo. We’ve had fun, right?
Remember when I dropped you in a puddle and Mum put you in the tumble dryer?
You looked so happy going around and around and came out super cosy.
And all those nights we sat up talking, you were such a good listener, always on my side…
such a good friend. And I stashed you in my bag so you could come to The Voice with me.
You inspired me to do great things. Taking part in that show is an experience I will never forget.
But the singing dream isn’t for me any more – that was yours, and you did it so well.
’ She gave Lili and Trevor a self-conscious look, but they simply smiled at her.
Rosie ran a hand over Jumbo’s ears. ‘I know you’ll miss me, and doing stuff, but you’ve had a busy life.
Maybe it’s time to retire.’ Her voice sounded full.
‘Thanks for everything, Jumbo. You’re the best.’ She kissed his head.
Lili got to her feet and held out her hand. Rosie passed the elephant over.
‘I’m sure you’ve got a few already, but would you like one last photo of him?’
‘Yes please.’ Rosie’s voice cracked.
As the gentle instrumental music played in the background, Lili placed Jumbo against the vase of flowers, on the coffee table, took a shot and gave the photo to Rosie, who sat down again. Carefully, Lili placed the toy on the windowsill.
Trevor stared at Jumbo and then got to his feet and went over by the window.
‘I can relate to everything you said, Rosie. Thanks for sharing. I’ve been so nervous about this but once my friend Tommo explained about the freedom ceremony, I knew I mustn’t get scared.
I had to do it to move forwards.’ He reached into his bag and pulled out a wooden base with a big glass engraved star on top.
The end of one of the star’s points was missing and the base was scratched.
He held it up. ‘This was my dad’s. A big award from his job.
The only people to get this went onto the board, like he did.
It was a big PR agency in London. I hardly saw him when I was growing up.
’ He tilted the star at different angles.
‘Didn’t stop him thinking he knew what was best for me.
Life was easier if I didn’t argue with him, so I did the business degree, got a job in the City.
Whenever I visited my parents he’d shake this in the air and say any son worth his salt would eventually gain an award of his own.
’ Trevor exhaled. ‘Rosie’s words about not having to scale heights to feel good enough really hit home.
He… he only ever told me he was proud once, when I was a kid – when I won a race at sport’s day, at high school, beating the son of a neighbour he didn’t get on with.
Eventually I realised the City wasn’t for me.
I jacked in the London life, came down here to visit an old uni friend, married her and never went back.
I’m a teacher now. Primary school. Love it. ’
‘Inspiring,’ mumbled Rosie and nodded at him to continue.
‘Dad died a few years ago. Several days before he passed, he tried to make me promise that one day I’d go back to a corporate life.
My dear mum died last year and I kept a few sentimental items. She’d hung on to this, ever so proud of Dad, unable to see the pressure he’d put me under.
Yet she often told me I made her proud too and she loved my stories about my teaching job.
’ He lifted the award in the air and stared at it.
‘Thanks for… for making my mum and dad so happy. It’s not your fault that…
negative energy came my way. You are beautiful and served a great purpose, awarding someone for working hard.
But I can’t hang on to you. I need to be completely free of that voice in my head that pops up now and again saying I’m not good enough.
’ He looked at Lili, visibly lighter, frown lines softening.
‘Would you like a photo?’ Lili asked as she took it from him.
Trevor shook his head and sat down.
Their relief almost tangible that the ceremony was over, combined with contentment that they were finally free from those items, displayed itself with a gusto for scones, with laughter, with wiped eyes, with stories about Trevor’s dad and Jumbo. As the sun set, Lili passed them their coats.
‘Thanks for everything,’ said Rosie. ‘I really feel like I can make a fresh start now.’
She gave Lili a hug, as did Trevor. He put on his jacket and went to say something to Rosie, but hesitated.
‘What?’ Rosie asked.
‘It’s a great idea, giving the kids a toy to take home every week, as part of a storytelling activity. My class would love that. And I think they’d love Jumbo.’ He glanced at Lili. ‘I know you’ll dispose of the items in different ways, so… Rosie – and no problem if it’s a no… but?—’
Rosie’s face lit up. ‘You’d like to take him for your class?’
‘Yes! How about we bring him out of the shortest retirement ever? My wife’s ace at sewing, I’m sure she could fashion a lovely new trunk and spruce him up, make sure he’s safe for the children after all this time and perhaps make a little blanket to put on his back.’
‘Oh yes, yes please,’ said Rosie, eyes shining. ‘Jumbo would… I mean… I’d like that very much,’ she said and gave an embarrassed grin.
‘Sounds like the perfect recycling story,’ said Lili. She squeezed Rosie’s arm. ‘I’m sure Jumbo will be very excited.’
Beaming, Rosie left. She’d already said her goodbyes to the elephant. Lili fetched Jumbo from the windowsill in the lounge and Trevor put him in his bag.
She opened the door again, to face someone tall, hand raised ready to knock, with wavy black hair and a charming smile that could get him into any building.
He was carrying a bag. What was Dylan doing here?
Could he have heard about the ceremony and think he could just turn up? How had he found out?