‘Ready.’ New home, new life, new me.
8
PRESENT DAY
I pushed open my bedroom door and it was like I’d stepped back in time. The childhood belongings I’d hastily tipped out of my suitcase were exactly where I’d left them. The bedspread was still rumpled from where I’d dragged my part-filled case off it. My dressing table drawers were ajar and my wardrobe doors were open with several items of clothing in a dusty heap at the bottom where I must have knocked them off their hangers in my haste. I pressed my hand over my mouth, shocked to see nothing had changed.
‘I told you your room was like it was before,’ Marianne said.
I picked up an item of clothing – a navy pencil skirt with a split up the back which I remembered making after I was offered my first ever job in the typing pool at the council – and shook it out, spluttering as I covered myself in dust. I tossed the skirt back into the bottom of the wardrobe and turned to Marianne.
‘I thought you meant you hadn’t stored anything in here, not that you’d never been inside since I left.’
‘Dad told me not to.’
I opened my mouth to tell her that he’d been dead for over two decades and she could do what she liked now, but that haunted look in her eyes kept me quiet. It wasn’t my place to interfere in her life, not that she’d listen to me if I tried.
My gaze passed round the room. The awful memory of that final day swirled round my mind alongside several happy memories of being here with Mum, making me feel quite emotional.
‘You can use my room if you want somewhere tidy to sleep,’ I said.
Marianne glanced at the dolls and games on the bed. ‘I’m not sure. It’s a bit messy in here.’
I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud at the irony of that. ‘I can soon clear this lot away.’
She shook her head and left. I wasn’t sure if she expected me to follow her, but I couldn’t draw myself away. I sank down onto the bedspread, taking it all in. Back then, I’d been infatuated with Tom Cruise and the film posters fromTop GunandThe Color of Moneywere pinned to the walls at the head and foot of my single bed. Cliff had taken me to see both films, proposing to me after the latter.
My fingers brushed against something on the bed and I glanced down. ‘Scarlett Skye,’ I whispered, picking up the reversible rag doll Mum had made for me when I was little. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
I was certain I’d packed her the day I left but I’d been unable to find her when I emptied my case at Cliff’s house. He’d offered to drive back and get both her and my sewing machine but I hadn’t wanted to risk subjecting him to Dad’s wrath. It was good to see Scarlett Skye now. The side showing was Skye – a blonde girl with brown eyes wearing a pretty blue-and-white summer’s dress. I flipped the dress over her head revealing Scarlett – a brunette with blue eyes, red lips and a beautiful long-sleeved scarlet dress, perfect for a Christmas ball. I’d take her home with me today.
‘I’ve made you a tea,’ Marianne called up the stairs. I placed the doll on my pillow and gingerly made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, wrinkling my nose at the intensity of the smell, like sour milk blended with rotten chicken. There was barely an inch of clear space on the worktops. Empty ready-meal cartons and yoghurt pots were stacked high and there were dozens more bin bags precariously piled on top of each other.
‘Has the bin lorry stopped coming?’ I asked, wondering if that was the reason behind the rubbish building up.
‘No. They come every Wednesday.’
‘Is there a reason for you keeping the rubbish in here instead of putting it out?’
Marianne shrugged, picked up a mug of tea from beside the kettle and left the kitchen. I reached for the remaining mug but something on the worktop caught my eye and my stomach churned. I peered a little closer, hoping it would be black pepper or some sort of spice but it was definitely mouse droppings. Shuddering, I poured my tea down the sink.
‘Did I make it too strong for you?’ Marianne asked, looking at my empty hands when I joined her in the lounge.
‘I had a drink just before I left home so I wasn’t ready for another. Sorry.’
‘My fault. I didn’t ask if you were thirsty.’
As she sipped on her tea, I looked around for somewhere to sit but drew a blank. Everything looked so carefully balanced that I feared the removal of one bag would be like withdrawing a key stick from a game of KerPlunk, bringing everything toppling down. I couldn’t make sense of the mess. Marianne hadn’t liked me going into her bedroom when I was a kid but, the few times I did, I’d been struck by how tidy everything was. How had she gone from that to this? There had to be something wrong – physically, mentally or both – but was Christmas Day the right time to try to address it?
‘Why don’t we go back up to my bedroom?’ I suggested. ‘There’s space for us both to sit there.’
I thought she’d protest but she followed me up the stairs and we sat side by side on my bed in uncomfortable silence. Why was I here?
‘Would you like me to help you tidy up?’ I asked eventually, wondering if the mess could be the reason she’d invited me – a call for help, perhaps – although why make it Christmas Day?
‘You want to spend Christmas Day tidying?’ she asked.
‘No, but I wondered if that’s why…’ I tailed off as her eyebrows raised.
