‘He was quite literally the boy next door. His mum, Mrs Kellerman, was a brilliant pianist and I’d sit in the garden listening to the most beautiful music drifting through her open windows. I was desperate to learn the piano and be able to play like her so Mum asked her if she’d teach me. She said no because she played for pleasure and had no aspirations to teach but, after four years of us pestering, she eventually gave in. I had my first lesson on my tenth birthday. Mrs Kellerman was adamant it was a one-month trial and, if I didn’t listen to her properly or didn’t practise, it would end. But it didn’t end because I fell in love with the piano and practising for hours every day was a pleasure – never a chore.’
Saffy looked around the room, frowning. ‘I can’t see a piano.’
‘That’s because I don’t have one.’ I knew Saffy would ask me why. The real explanation was far too complicated so I threw in something plausible, even though I didn’t feel comfortable lying. ‘After I got married, life got in the way and I never found the time to practise. Anyway, Cliff was Mrs Kellerman’s only child. He’d always been polite, smiling and saying hello if we saw him around, but he was eight years older than me – eighteen when I started my lessons – so I never imagined we’d become friends. There wasn’t much time for chit chat before lessons – Mrs Kellerman was a stickler for starting promptly – but I had a difficult relationship with my dad and sister so it was nice to know that somebody other than my mum was interested in my life. My mum died when I was twelve and, as Cliff had lost his dad at a similar age, he was a great support and we became friends. When I was twenty, Mrs Kellerman sadly passed away. Cliff didn’t have any other family so it was a lot to deal with and I helped him. We became closer and got married a year later.’
‘Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m sorry he isn’t here anymore.’
I glanced towards his photos and nodded. ‘Me too. He was one of a kind.’
A notification on Saffy’s phone drew her attention away from me and I sipped on my tea, my heart pounding. I wasn’t used to questions about Cliff and me and I’d needed to pick my words so carefully to make it the truth… but not the whole truth.
Saffy only ate one piece of toast and admitted her stomach was in knots, worried about what her parents had said to Paulette. I suggested more journalling to distract her. We couldn’t add anything else to the pop-up shop journal until we’d heard back from Veronica so we sat at the dining table together focusing on our personal journals. I was careful with the pages I worked on in front of Saffy, conscious of being unwilling and unable to answer the questions that might arise from some of the entries. The Venice one was complete, as was the one about a new home for me, and I didn’t mind if Saffy saw mystopentries offeeling sorry for myselfandchasing a relationship with Marianne. The former could easily be tied into losing Cliff and she already knew I didn’t get on with my sister.
Trevor had joined us at the table and kept strutting up and down, nodding at our work, as though he was the supervisor. Every so often, he flapped his wings and sent a few stickers flying in all directions but it was otherwise a productive session in which I didn’t reveal anything I didn’t want to. Until I turned to a fresh page in my journal where I’d slotted the original scribbled list of entries. At the same moment, Trevor flapped his wings and the list drifted over to Saffy. She laughed as she picked it up and handed it back to me, but not before she’d glanced at it.
‘I didn’t mean to look,’ she said, her cheeks reddening. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Trevor obviously wanted you to.’ My heart pounded. ‘What did you see?’
‘You want to start loving and you want to feel love. I couldn’t help it. There were?—’
‘Red hearts,’ I said at the same time as her. I wished she hadn’t seen the entries but it could have been worse. I could have written more and given myself away or she could have seen some of the other entries.
‘Have you dated since your husband died?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘But you want to? Or were those entries about something different? Tell me to shut up if you don’t want to talk about it. I know I ask a lot of questions. Grandma keeps telling me to switch my filter on, but it’s only because I’m interested in people.’
I gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It’s all right and, yes, itisabout finding a loving relationship but I’m not sure it’ll ever happen.’
‘Why not?’
So many reasons!‘Because I’m too old.’
‘Too old? You’re younger than Grandma and, if she wanted to find someone else, I wouldn’t think she was too old so you’re certainly not. How old are you anyway?’
‘Sixty today.’
Her eyes widened and the smile slipped from her face and I wished I hadn’t added thetodaypart.
‘Youarejoking.’
I shook my head.
‘It’s your sixtieth birthday today?’
‘Yes.’
She glanced towards the mantelpiece and I knew what was coming next.
‘Where are your cards?’
‘I haven’t got any.’
Saffy raised her eyebrows at me and then she smiled. ‘Oh! Because your birthday’s on a Sunday?’
‘I won’t get any in the post tomorrow either.’
