Oh, the sounds of being at home. It’s like music and it’s not just Mum screeching about how things should be done and how someone has left a yoghurt pot on the front bay window and accused us of being animals. It’s the sound of the second step from the top that still creaks, the gurgle of the central heating and knowing exactly when someone has entered or left the downstairs bathroom.
I’ve been sitting here for two hours on the sofa, just stroking it and letting its big oversized corduroy cushions envelop me. I remember this sofa. I remember I invited Josh Reid back here and kissed him on this sofa. We shared some salt and vinegar Twisties that he’d bought for me as a gift and I thought that sort of gift was unparalleled. We also did other inappropriate things on this sofa but we don’t talk about that to anyone else who sits here on a daily basis.
Some things in here have changed. There are new photos on the walls and I don’t remember that floral wallpaper on the chimney breast but this sofa, this carpet in between my toes, the piles of Mum’s books that she stacks in columns, still remain. I close my eyes for a second. A psychologist I saw before I left the hospital told me to use all of my Spidey senses to access my memories. I put my hands down on the sofa and remember Josh and me sinking into the fabric. He was decent at kissing and knew how to work a bra. But he was surprised I had more than one hole down there, which made me worry about the standards of sex education in his school.
‘Are you tired, Luce? Do you need to nap?’
Grace enters the room with a cup of tea. This is a child-free zone and, to ensure the dads of the family can handle the childcare, the majority of nieces and nephews are holed up at Emma’s house. Grace hasn’t seemed to mind moving back here but she’s an amenable sort, cut from the same cloth as my mother in terms of her organisational skills. She’s even brought house slippers with her.
I take the tea from her. ‘I’m good. I’m just taking it all in.’
‘Mum may fillet your cat for dinner, just saying…’
‘She doesn’t seem to like me or remember me,’ I mention.
‘She’s a scrappy feral cat, Lucy. But that was probably part of the appeal. So have all your memories come flooding back yet from sitting on the family sofa?’
I shake my head. ‘Nope. I like how Mum and Dad still have a turntable though.’
‘Oh, vinyl made a comeback so they’re not even old-fashioned any more, just retro, even cool.’
Upstairs, the sound of tools and air pumps echoes through the walls. Naturally, when the last child had left this place, Mum and Dad transformed my old bedroom into an office and so they’re shifting around furniture and beds to accommodate everyone.I’ll sleep on the sofa before I sleep on that. It’s not even retaining air. There’s a leak. Can you put all your crafting stuff in the loft? Why have you brought so many shoes with you?
I put my head on Grace’s shoulder.
‘You guys really don’t mind doing this?’
Grace shrugs. ‘If it’ll help. I have no doubt it will end in the occasional fight and I don’t like the idea of waiting for the toilet again in the morning. But this is just for a few weeks…’
‘Tell me about you then. Not the sad stuff if you don’t want to. This new fella of yours, Max. What does he do?’
‘We can talk about it all. You loved Tom, we all did.’
I don’t know how to broach that quite yet. In the last ten years, Grace gained and lost a husband, Tom, who I can’t remember. Beth has shown me the pictures and fed me the details but my heart breaks to think that happened before Grace even turned thirty. How did she do it? How did I help? I hope I helped.
‘Tom was a fitty at least,’ I reply. ‘Out of all of us, I think you did very well. I know Meg loves her Danny but the appeal is still very much lost on me.’
She laughs. ‘The girls and I have made pacts to travel and explore like he did. And Max might start coming with us.’
‘Max… with the ponytail.’
‘I’ve got used to that,’ she says, smiling. ‘I like this new side to you by the way, the one that asks pertinent questions. Old Lucy would have just asked about his skills in bed and the size of his dong.’
I try and summon up a laugh. The sisters talk about this new Lucy a lot. She still has remnants of some sweary bird I used to be but hasn’t been ruined yet by the last ten years. They keep reminding me of the old Lucy though. I like her gumption. It sounds like she was a character, bravery seeped out of her pores, she seemed to be scared of nothing. I can imagine her riding across a bridge and trying to take on a bus. Would new Lucy be able to take on that bus? Maybe after a good nap.
‘My hoodie looks good on you,’ Grace says, punching my arm.
‘Thanks. I went through my clothes and everything was a little…’
‘Brief and see-through?’
‘Cropped. Cold.’
‘Well, I have many hoodies.’
‘Me too,’ Beth says, entering the room, clutching a cup of tea. ‘Uniform of choice these days: hoodies, leggings and trainers.’ She kisses the top of my head and then comes to sit down next to me.
‘Gracie… Emma’s going to come in here in a minute with a sketch of how the bathroom shelves will now be arranged. Emma needs a whole shelf for her skincare crap.’
