‘Promise me, Holly.’
I realise now why Jamie wanted his ashes scattered here. It’s magical, remote and secluded. Right now, it feels as if there is no one here except Milla and me, and the only sounds I can hear are the sounds of my footsteps across the sand, the gentle waves, and the birds.
‘Here,’ I say to Milla, when finally we reach the place where Jamie and I went for a swim that Sunday afternoon. I close my eyes, remembering that day, as if it were yesterday. I don’t want to let him go yet. I can’t. Give me a few more minutes. I see him wading into the water effortlessly. I remember cursing, the water was freezing. But Jamie had urged me to follow him. ‘It gets better,’ he’d promised. I trusted him. I kept going, and began to feel different, less cold, less inhibited. I felt free. In a way it reminds me of grief. Somehow the pain does recede. The sadness will never go, the grief won’t disappear; it gives way to something new.
I look at the sea, and see us so vividly that day.
‘This is where he asked me to marry him,’ I tell Milla, tears filling my eyes.
‘I know it’s only been six months, but why wait when you know?’ Jamie had said.
‘It’s the perfect spot then,’ Milla says.
I thought I’d be anxious, terrified, to finally let him go, but all I want to do now that we’re here is to make Jamie proud. I feel a certain peace. Perhaps it’s knowing it’s the right time. I picture Jamie, the first time we met in Milla’s kitchen. I see us getting married. We chose to exchange our vows in a registry office a year after we met. Neither one of us needed anything fancy. We wanted to save up for our first home together. I recall us discussing if we were unwise to buy a two-bedroom house in west London, would it be big enough for our family? ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,’ he’d said. That bridge never came, but we didn’t let the sadness of no children wrench us apart. We were lucky in many other ways. We had ten years of marriage, and while it was cruelly cut short, I only want to hold on to the happy memories now. I see us playing tennis in the park, Jamie laughing, telling me the whole idea is to move towards the ball, not run away from it. I see us in our kitchen, enjoying a meal, telling each other about our day. I see us here, on this beach, racing each other towards the sea. ‘Last one in pays for lunch!’ he’d called out, knowing it would be me. It was the simple things that made us happy.
The day he proposed was the happiest day of my life.
I look to Milla, who nods, as if to say I can do it. I release the water urn into the sea, and we watch as it floats away. Our song, ‘Live Your Life Be Free’, comes into my head. I sing it to him now, picturing him so impressed that I could sing that badly. I encourage Milla to join in, and the two of us sing our song until I can no longer see the urn. Yet Jamie hasn’t gone, because whenever I hear that song, or return to this beach, or to our old haunts, I can feel him close to me.
32
Six months later
‘No Angus today?’ Dr Stratton says as we follow her into her office. It’s a Monday morning, officially my least favourite day of the week, and it’s ten past nine, and Laurie’s come in for her regular follow-up appointment. Angus, Laurie and I saw Dr Stratton about six months ago, just before Angus’s accident last year and clearly, she was expecting the three of us again. That’s why I couldn’t say no to coming here with Laurie today. While Angus can’t be as involved in Laurie’s life anymore, I can. Though in many ways, I feel she’d be more than capable of seeing Dr Stratton on her own now.
‘He’s at work, he has a new job, in the theatre,’ Laurie replies, taking a seat next to Dr Stratton’s desk. She seems calm this morning, less fidgety. Now that she knows Dr Stratton and what to expect, her anxiety is under control. I feel that familiar ache in my heart when I see the empty chair by my side. Angus’s absence in this room, in my life, still hurts. I haven’t seen him, nor have we communicated, since we said goodbye at the hospital before Christmas. I miss him, more than I should, probably more than I’d dare to admit. Even if it has to be this way, life is greyer without him. But I have a new man in my life: Bruno. It’s unconditional love. Finally, I decided to get that dog Jamie and I had always longed for. He’s a rescue, from Battersea, a Jack Russell mixed with a Beagle. He comes with me almost everywhere. Harriet dotes on him. It was love at first sight. Laurie spotted him first. ‘That’s the one,’ she’d said, pointing to a small sturdy dog lying down at the back of his cage, ‘the one with the cute little brown patch over his eye.’ Meanwhile, Angus and Laurie are still in touch. They send one another texts and funny videos. I told Laurie a white lie, that Angus and I do occasionally catch up on the phone. Deep down, I believe she realises we became more than friends, that perhaps our relationship was more complicated than we let on. After all, it was Laurie who noticed we had feelings for each other months ago. Yet she’s kind enough not to quiz me on it. I sense she doesn’t want to upset anyone, including Angus, so she lets it be. And I love her even more for that. I always want us to be remembered as a team of three.
‘So, how is the exercise and food diary going?’ During Laurie’s last appointment Dr Stratton had helped her set up some personal goals. She wondered if Laurie might find a food diary helpful, to identify habits she was unaware of, things like sugar in her tea, habits that Laurie could change. While it all sounds fairly simple, nothing ground-breaking, what mattered was Dr Stratton was taking an interest in Laurie, and asking her to come back regularly to see how she was getting on.
‘I’ve quit smoking,’ Laurie announces with pride, as if she never believed she’d utter those words. ‘Haven’t touched a ciggie for three weeks and I’m noticing the difference already. I’m not nearly so wheezy. The other day I walked from my flat to the park, without stopping.’
Dr Stratton looks delighted. ‘Laurie, that’swonderful. It takes a lot of willpower to stop.’
‘Yeah, I miss it, but now I’ve got my own place, I don’t want the walls in my lounge and kitchen to go yellow.’
‘It must feel good to have your own space,’ Dr Stratton says, ‘to be more independent?’
‘Yeah, frightening as hell too,’ admits Laurie. ‘You know change and me don’t get on that well.’
‘It must feel like a big step, a lot of responsibility?’ asks Dr Stratton.
Laurie crosses her arms. ‘Yeah, a lot of responsibility. Too much sometimes.’
After Christmas Laurie moved out of the night-shelter to a house shared with four others. At the time she didn’t want to, especially because they were four blokes, but she had no choice. This was a step she had to take before her support worker could find her a place of her own. She had to prove she could live independently. It was also made easier by the fact that Ian had moved out of the shelter. So far, she seems to be managing with her bills. She told me that every month she receives an allowance that helps her put twenty pounds on gas, twenty on electric. She also gets council tax and housing benefits that cover her rent. She sets aside another twenty pounds a week for food and twenty-five for her phone and the Internet. All she needs now is a job. Nina wants to employ her to help with the community workshops and cooking lessons.
‘Holly’s going to help me paint the house.’ Laurie turns to me. ‘Aren’t you?’
I nod. Laurie now lives in a block of council flats in Shepherds Bush, close to Westfield, the large shopping centre in White City. Her flat is on the fourth floor, it’s small, it’s basic, but she can sleep with her bedroom door open, fill the fridge with whatever she wants, and drink orange juice out of the carton with no one telling her off– it’shers. ‘Not that you’d think it, Ian has practically moved in too,’ she told me, but I knew, from the way she said it, this was a good thing.
‘We’ve chosen an off-white for the lounge and my bedroom’s purple,’ Laurie continues, ‘and Holly’s given me a sofa, and Nina’s given me a kitchen table with a set of chairs. We also picked up a fluffy rug, a set of mugs and a teapot at a car boot sale.’
Jamie had kept some of his furniture, from his old home, in storage. We didn’t want to throw anything away in case we needed it when we moved out of London. I figured how pleased he’d be to know his old sofa had found a home with Laurie. As for the mugs and teapot, and the fluffy rug, I love going to car boot sales. It reminds me of my childhood.
‘It sounds like you’re settling in well, and Holly’s helping you make it feel like home,’ Dr Stratton says, catching my eye.
‘Yeah, and Angus bought me a fridge off eBay, a bright pink SMEG one for sixty quid,’ Laurie continues in full swing, not that I’m sure Dr Stratton has the time to hear about every single donated item in her flat. ‘Angus had an accident, nearly died,’ she states in her trademark matter-of-fact way.
‘How terrible, I’m sorry to hear that.’
