AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 18
My mother and I are sitting in my old bedroom, the one she turned into a jewellery workshop. The floor is piled high with trays; little compartments designed to store Christmas decorations, which Mum uses to stow her magpie finds. She’s laying out some treasures on the mottled oak desk: a golden ring with the diamond missing, a collection of hairslides covered in tiny pearls threaded onto delicate silver wire and shaped into flowers.
It’s these details that trick me, make me believe the scene is real. How does my brain furnish me with such detailed deceit? The way she tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear, but twirls it girlishly first, just for a moment. The blouse she’s wearing, with coffee stains on the cuff; her nails, always clipped painfully short, the lilt of her voice, ‘Laura, pass me the thingamee, will you?’ And I know exactly what she means.
I have these vivid dreams less frequently now. A painful pleasure, but I would not be without them. They are a chance to see her again, to spend time in her company. On waking, when the deception is realised, I feel the sorrow of losing her all over again, but then my mind scrabbles to collect up the breadcrumbs of detail that will keep her real.
I scribble down everything I can remember in my diary: the coffeed cuff, the thingamee, the hair twirl. These are the details my waking mind forgets, but without them her memory might blur, eventually distilling her to a series of photos and anecdotes like Dad. I must hold off the distillation for as long as possible, so I’m grateful for the dreams.
After writing my notes, I can’t get back to sleep. My shin feels sore from last night, and I notice the skin to one side of the plaster is bruised. Since it’s nearly six, I eventually give up trying to rest, open my laptop, and stare at the screen. Belinda’s letter sits accusingly on the bedside table. Why did I take it? I shouldn’t be involving myself in Ted’s life like this; I’ve got enough of my own problems to deal with. I stow the page of her letter back into my handbag, resolving to just give it to Ted as soon as I see him this morning.
But between the dream, Belinda’s letter, and my evening with Jasper and then Ted, there’s too much swirling around my head to be able to focus on work. I skim-read a few chapters of Tiger Woman, but it only makes me feel inadequate. I am so un-tiger.
When I hear footsteps outside my door, I sit bolt upright in bed. I assume it must be Ted, also unable to sleep. Opening the front door, I squint into the dim morning light, the amber glow of sunrise still languishing behind the hill beyond Sans Ennui.
‘Ted?’ I whisper.
‘Only me,’ I hear Gerry’s voice. ‘Sorry, did I wake you with my shuffling feet?’
‘Oh. Hi, Gerry, you’re up early.’
‘My last early morning beach walk,’ he says. ‘Care to join me?’
Pulling a cardigan around my shoulders, I slip on my flip-flops.
‘Can’t sleep either?’ he asks, and I shake my head.
Gerry leads us down the small path between the fields towards the sea. We walk at a glacial pace, but I don’t mind; I’m glad of the opportunity to talk with Gerry.
‘Your last night in the house. Was that what kept you awake?’
‘Sleep’s always a challenge,’ he says. ‘My body keeps me awake, not my brain, muscles just can’t turn off. Every few hours, if I haven’t conked, I have to get up and stretch my legs. It can be less exhausting walking about, giving your limbs a purpose.’
‘That sounds hard, I’m sorry.’
‘Is what it is. I don’t know where I’ll walk at the new place,’ he mutters, with a note of sadness I haven’t heard in his voice before. ‘I always head to the beach when lying down gets too much. Though Sandy says I shouldn’t go out alone any more, I’ve had too many falls recently.’ He lifts his bandaged arm to illustrate. Then he reaches out for my arm and frowns. ‘Will you promise to push me in the sea if I keep sounding so sorry for myself?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I say, pressing my hand onto his, ‘or I’d have to go in too and it looks bitingly cold.’
We get to the bottom of the footpath and turn left along the sand, heading towards the distant silhouette of La Corbière Lighthouse at the southern end of the bay. The beach is deserted, silent but for the whispering rush of waves and birds pattering about in the incoming tide.
We chat about the party; I apologise for leaving early, but tell him how much I enjoyed talking to all his friends, how honoured I felt to be included.
As we talk, Gerry stumbles, reaching again for my arm to steady himself.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask. He nods silently, then turns his face away. Beneath his self-deprecating humour, I glimpse a man ashamed of a body that is failing him.
‘So, I was helping Ted clear out some of the things in your house last night,’ I say once he’s recovered his gait, ‘and I found something.’
‘If it was the body under the radiator in the hall, it weren’t me, Guv’nor,’ Gerry says, and I hug his arm affectionately.
‘It was a page of a letter Belinda wrote to you, with her contact details.’ I look across at him for a reaction.
‘Oh dear,’ says Gerry.
‘Why wouldn’t you have given that to Ted?’
‘Hmmm,’ he says with a guilty sigh. ‘How did Ted react?’
