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‘I’ll come back for those,’ Chloe said. There was a strange gleam in her eyes that I was pretty sure was excitement at the prospect of cleaning up ten years’ worth of dust. I was careful to hide my bemused smile. For two women who had so much in common, we really were completely different.
I had expected the lock to feel stiff or resisting, but my key slid in smoothly and the door swung open easily. I breathed in, waiting to be hit by a wave of musty, stale air, but all I could smell was a sweet fresh aroma. I glanced curiously down the hallway. The cobwebs and thick dust-covered surfaces my imagination had conjured up were nowhere to be seen.
I walked slowly down the familiar corridor to the kitchen, where spring sunlight was streaming through windows that gleamed in a way I had never managed to achieve when I’d been in charge of the housework. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chloe surreptitiously run her fingertips over the smooth oak kitchen worktops, looking almost disappointed when they came away clean.
An old memory came back to me just then. Eleven years earlier, when viewing the flat for the first time, I had stood on exactly this spot while Mitch explained that he’d built this kitchen for his grandmother. It really wasn’t that surprising that he hadn’t allowed the home she’d left him when she died to fall into disrepair. He’d been far too fond of her to let that happen.
‘He must have got a team of professionals in.’ Chloe sounded glum, as though Mitch had deliberately ruined her fun.
I turned around and saw the vase of sunflowers on the kitchen window ledge. A second vase was just visible through the open lounge door and I was willing to bet good money there would also be one in the bedroom.
‘I think he probably did this himself,’ I said softly.
*
Three hours later, I casually asked Chloe how much longer she’d be able to stay, never for a moment expecting her to reply: ‘Until the morning, of course.’
‘But what about Hope? Don’t you have to go and pick her up from school?’
‘You’re joking, right? She’d die of embarrassment to find me waiting for her by the school gates. She catches the bus to and from school.’
I shook my head as though I could jiggle my thoughts into alignment like a kaleidoscope. The Hope of my memories would run out of school, clutching a painting she’d done that day and barrel straight into the arms of whoever was collecting her. For several months, when Chloe had been in hospital and later recovering from surgery to remove a brain tumour, that ‘someone’ had been me.
‘You know that sweet little six-year-old you used to love playing with… well, she grew into a headstrong, opinionated teenager, with an answer for everything.’ Chloe shrugged, but the love she felt for her daughter shone through whatever she said. ‘I’ve truly no idea how that happened.’
‘Hmm… there’s a possibility that might be my fault,’ I said, thinking back to my own youth and a time when every conversation with my mum was potentially combustible. What I wouldn’t give to re-write those stupid moments and needless arguments. Because the woman who had soothed my childhood nightmares, plastered my grazed knees, and been the anchor steadying me whenever I’d needed her, was gone. Mum hadn’t been that person for a very long time. Dementia had already stolen her away from Dad and me long before my accident. In a way I was almost thankful that she hadn’t known the pain of waiting for me to come back to life. Because I had seen the toll my condition had left on my father’s face. At least Alzheimer’s had spared Mum that.
I drew up my legs, to sit cross-legged on Mitch’s grandmother’s faded chintz settee. I thought I caught a quick envious glance from Chloe at my long flexible limbs. Those gruelling PT sessions had yielded some unexpected benefits. And while I certainly wouldn’t recommend a coma as a beauty treatment, I had to admit that sixteen years without frowning, squinting, or having the sun on my skin had left me looking considerably younger than most women my age. I was a year older than Chloe, but time and life had left their marks on her face. And yet I would have exchanged my smooth unlined skin for all her laughter lines in a heartbeat.
Chloe padded off to the kitchen and came back carrying an open bottle of wine and two glasses. I had finally stopped my half-hearted protests about her intention to stay with me on my first night out of hospital. To be honest, I was glad that her mind was made up. In hospital you’re surrounded by literally hundreds of people. And while part of me ought to be rejoicing that for the first time in ten years I could finally be alone, a much larger part of me was really glad that I didn’t have to be.
CHAPTER 2
‘Try it again with the leather jacket,’ suggested Hope, taking a step back to better study the overall effect.
I pulled the jacket down from its hook on the cubicle wall and did as she asked.
‘Yep. That’s definitely it. You look great.’
I turned back to the full-length mirror. The ripped jeans fitted me like a second skin. A veryexpensivesecond skin, I noticed, as I picked up the swinging price tag. It was an awful lot of money to spend on something that looked as though it needed mending.
‘It’s what everyone wears these days. Trust me,’ said Hope, nodding wisely.
‘I don’t think I’ve seen your mum in anything like this,’ I said, adding the jeans and leather jacket to the ‘yes’ pile on the changing room chair.
‘Which is precisely why you needed me on this shopping trip and not Mum. She’d have taken you to the posh bit of Marks & Spencer and made you buy a load of middle-aged stuff. You’re too young and pretty to wear things like that,’ she added, giving me a quick impulsive hug.
I thought of pointing out that technically Iwasalmost middle-aged, and also older than her mum, but somehow the hug derailed me.
‘Besides, we’re the same size, and I’d really love to borrow some of these,’ Hope admitted artlessly, eyeing the pile of clothes that were about to make a considerable dent in my credit card.
‘Ah, now it all makes sense,’ I laughed, scooping up the bundle of clothes and exiting the changing room.
We handed back the rejected items to the attendant on our way out.
‘Did your sister like the leather jacket?’ she asked, directing her comment to Hope.
Hope slid her arm through mine. A full-length mirror on a nearby pillar showed two women who looked so similar that heads turned when we walked past. They’d been doing so all morning as we wandered through the large shopping mall on our mission to re-stock my out-of-date wardrobe.
