Chapter15
Star could hear Boris chirping as she clomped up the uncarpeted wooden staircase to the flat above the former newsagent shop. She arrived at the top to find Auntie Flo throwing the shabby cover over the noisy bird.
‘Phew, that’s better. He’s been full of it today, naughty bird. This might quieten him down a bit, but I’m not promising anything.’
‘Have you had a good week, Auntie?’
‘Hang on, let me put my ears in. I took them out to shut Boris and the world out for an hour. Bloody marvellous they are.’ The old lady reached for her hearing aids on the side. Today, she was wearing a brightly patterned shift dress. There were all sorts of whistles coming from her ears for a second, which Boris then took on himself to replicate.
‘You can get new ones of those, you know,’ Star said, concerned.
‘Bird or hearing aids?’ Florence Sibley said wittily. ‘Why would I waste my money? These National Health ones work perfectly well once I set them right.’ The screeches carried on as she continued to fiddle, adjusting the settings.
‘You’ve got a new dress by the look of it,’ Star said loudly.
‘Fifty pence from downstairs. It’s D&G, this one.’
Star laughed. ‘I love that you know more about fashion designers than me.’
‘Fashion designers, dear? I’m just saying what’s written on the label. Are they a good shop then? I much prefer M&S.’
Star went through to the kitchen and plated up the two warm and white parcels. The mouth-watering aroma of fish and chips began to fill the room.
‘You’re eating with me again, I see,’ Auntie Florrie noted. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘Probably me wanting to shut the world out too for a while.’
‘Oh, duck, what’s wrong? The oven’s already on low, pop our dinner in there and let’s sit by the fire for a second.’
Star put her head back on Uncle Jim’s winged armchair opposite her auntie, no barrier between them, the glowing fire to their side. She let out a big sigh. ‘Where to start.’
‘Take your time, my dear.’ Florence Sibley reached for the chain around her neck and put on her spectacles, nearly dislodging the hearing aids. ‘You’re looking well – whatever’s going on with you?’
‘It’s just … well, Mum and Skye and men.’
‘The plural of “men” makes me slightly nervous there.’
Star managed a smile. ‘With Mum it’s situation normal really. I don’t see her enough and feel guilty, but when I do see her, she is usually in such a state and sometimes I feel I can’t carry on pulling her through everything. It’s not my job, is it?’
‘No, it’s not your “job” but this love lark has a lot to answer for, doesn’t it. Your mum is a grown-up and she has all the tools to take responsibility for herself. She smokes that muck, she drinks. But I daresay she has a lot she needs to escape from in that mind of hers. It’s such a shame, Star, love. I told you I can’t relate to her when she is the way she is now. But I pray. I always pray.’
‘She told me the story about Grandmama and Grandad for the millionth time,’ Star said quietly. ‘It doesn’t get any easier to hear.’
‘I know, sweet Star. We have all suffered in our own way and I have been so lucky that I had my faith to see me through.’ Auntie Flo sniffed. ‘I found the few photos I have of dear Lilian if you’d like to see them.’ She produced an envelope, which she had pushed down the side cushion of her chair.
‘Aw.’ Star was surprised and pleased. ‘She looks like me.’
‘The spit of you. Thirty-three she was when that photograph was taken – the same age as you are now, in fact.’ Flo’s voice went into a whisper. ‘My little sister,’ she mused. ‘Fifty years ago. In a way it seems like yesterday. Proof that life is very fleeting.’ The old lady paused. ‘And it has moments you must seize.’ She shut her eyes to allow a vision to flash through her mind of her husband Jim kissing her under the pier at Penrigan, when the tides used to go back way further than they did now.
‘So how old would Estelle have been then?’
‘Can’t you just call her Mum?’
‘Sorry, Auntie. I do try when I’m with you.’
‘She would have been just twelve years old, I think. Look, here’s one of your gran and her.’
Star looked at the pretty little blonde girl staring back at her from the faded photograph, so innocent and happy looking, with no idea of what was to come. Poor Estelle.
