Lydia spent the morning completely blitzing the downstairs, which wasn’t too bad – they seemed to pile most of the junk above the ground floor where it was more inconspicuous – and then went on to the box room. She sorted out bills, shredded those that were so old they didn’t matter, filed away those that did. There were receipts in amongst papers for inconsequential things like two magazines and a newspaper on one, the receipt from posting a parcel two Christmases ago, another for a pair of flip-flops Lydia bought the first summer she and Theo had moved in together.
With two big black bin liners filled and left by the front door ready to go out, Lydia made a couple of pieces of toast and when she saw Theo’s message again on the blackboard, she knew it was time. Chewing on the last crust, she picked up the cloth tucked on the shelf at the edge of the kitchen and wiped his words away. She shut her eyes, her hand trembled, but it was something she knew she couldn’t avoid forever.
Back upstairs she was into the box room again. It was looking better already but she wanted to empty the wardrobe in there. It was filled with plastic storage boxes containing both of her and Theo’s memories. There were photo albums, old school shirts that had been signed when they were little, Theo’s university notes he refused to throw out. She went through the boxes and spent too long reminiscing and smiling over old snaps taken over the years: a school trip to France, a photo of her at graduation with her parents, her and Theo standing waiting for the ski lift in New Zealand. Having the photos down here had been at her insistence. She’d told Theo if he could have his uni notes then she wanted all her old pictures at hand too. The thought of bickering over the minutiae of life always made her smile.
Lydia shook her head. It was time she utilised the loft up above them. The house had a small courtyard garden which suited them perfectly but it meant there was no shed to dump their paraphernalia in either, so the loft housed an old video recorder they weren’t sure they’d use again, a badminton set they sometimes used in the warmer weather, a fancy windbreak they’d bought a few years back and dug out every summer.
She took out the long pole from the corner of the wardrobe in the spare room, pushed it into the brass loop of the loft hatch, opened the door and then hooked the ladder and gave it a tug so it squeaked its way down to the floor. What she wanted to do was clear the wardrobe in the spare room and put Theo’s clothes in there. The idea ten months ago would’ve been preposterous, too painful to contemplate, but his clothes hanging right next to hers were just another reminder that he wasn’t here anymore, and after weeks of debating whether it was the right thing to do, she’d decided it was.
Once Lydia got up into the loft, it was easy to see which sections were boarded off and tread carefully. There was very little up here and Theo had organised everything neatly, so it didn’t take long to bring up the Tupperware boxes from down below and find a place for them. They were way too heavy to pack and then move, especially when she’d need to negotiate a ladder, so she’d brought up the empty boxes first, then separate bundles of contents, and finally she had everything boxed and stacked neatly in the far corner. There was another box already up there but the lid had been left off, so Lydia picked it up and lay it on top but she couldn’t get it to clip shut. It was so full of papers, probably why it had been left off in the first place.
She took out a wodge of papers from the top. They looked like more of Theo’s university notes, probably hidden up here so she didn’t realise how many he actually had. It was quite sweet really. But when she went to push the papers right on top, down the side of the box so she could actually get the lid on, her eyes zoomed in on an email to Theo, one he’d printed and kept up here for some peculiar reason.
She skimmed through and as she read, she slumped down on the dusty floor. It was a booking for a hotel room, a fancy one at that, costing more than five hundred pounds! Her eyes fixated on the date, because it was October 10th, the day after her birthday, and it wasn’t an old booking, this booking was for this year.
Theo had booked her a surprise. He’d had to rein in his spontaneity after the gambling debacle and they’d been sensible for a long while, but here he was, doing something for her to mark her special day.
And just like that, Lydia’s newfound way of coping, the process of putting her life back together, became a bit like a game of Jenga. A block of wood had just been pulled out and sent it tumbling down around her.
*
‘You’re crazy if you don’t go,’ said Sally when they met the day of Lydia’s birthday. Sally was treating Lydia to a renowned Sally Lunn bun – apparently sharing the same Christian name meant that it would be rude not to go there. ‘I’ve pulled a lot of strings to sort this out for you.’
‘I know you have and I’m so grateful. But it still feels wrong.’ Lydia had done nothing but think about that hotel ever since she’d found the printout of the confirmation. It was a booking for a room with one hell of a view, looking out over London and the River Thames, and it turned out Sally knew someone who worked there. They’d got in touch with the friend, explained the situation and proven who Lydia was in relation to Theo. Lydia had been swept along with Sally’s determination and provided as much evidence as she could, including further printouts from Theo’s email account. Theo was one of those people who wrote down his password for everything. He had a little notebook tucked away in his bedside cabinet and Lydia had never needed to look in it until now. One email had asked if he’d wanted any special arrangements: rose petals to decorate the room, Dom Perignon Champagne, strawberries dipped in chocolate. Of course he’d never replied to any of those requests, because he hadn’t been able to.
‘These are so good.’ Sally bit into the coffee and walnut bun. ‘How’s yours?’
‘It’s good.’ Lydia had chosen cinnamon butter and the only thing hampering the taste was the thought of heading up to London tomorrow to stay in an expensive hotel that Theo had treated her to for her birthday, an occasion they should’ve been sharing.Turning thirty-one was something to celebrate but she’d never thought she’d do it without Theo by her side.
‘Happy birthday,’ said Sally between mouthfuls. ‘It’s a shame we’re both working or I’d treat us to a bottle of champagne.’
‘I know you would.’
When Lydia’s phone rang, she picked it up without checking the caller ID first.
‘Hi, Anita.’ She pulled a face and mouthed the words to tell Sally she’d nip outside to take the call.
‘Happy birthday,’ was the first thing Anita said once Lydia was outside on the cobbled street.
Lydia was surprised she’d remembered and even more surprised she wasn’t still furious after their arguing at Theo’s bedside. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you.’
‘All forgotten,’ Anita replied, and somehow Lydia suspected she really meant it. ‘Are you doing anything nice today?’
She explained she was in the city with a friend and Anita gave her the usual update about Theo, still confident he was improving every day, convinced his eyes followed her around the room as she spoke to him. Lydia wondered how much of what Anita saw was because she wanted to believe it and how much was completely real.
‘Any news on when the place for rehab will be available?’ Lydia asked.
‘They still say early December.’ Anita sighed. ‘The care home is better than the hospital, but he seems just a body to them, not a person. I know he can’t give much back but I just wish they’d talk to him more, in case he can hear them. I try to get there as much as I can, but it’s frustrating.’
‘I suppose they’re not experts on brain injury, maybe they don’t really know how to act.’
‘You’re right, and hopefully it won’t be long before he’s in rehab.’ It was a compliment and an acceptance Lydia hadn’t expected.
‘I’ll come and see him again soon.’
‘That would be lovely.’
Lydia wondered whether Anita missed her in some ways. She’d been a huge part of her son’s life and for almost a year now they’d been through this alongside one another. It made her sad to think of how alone Anita must feel. She had no husband or partner, her children were grown up and from what Lydia had seen, she didn’t have a whole lot of close friends. Theo had once said something about two of his mum’s closest friends dying of breast cancer within weeks of each other and Lydia wondered who this woman could turn to now.
