‘Oh, stop, please,’ said Grace, but not unkindly. ‘Worrying never gets you anywhere. If I had done nothing but worry all those years ago, would I have survived without Arthur? No, I would not. I made a life for myself and I lived it to the full and that’s what you should do too, Ginger, and stop worrying about other people.’
Grace was into her stride now.
‘I’ll be fine. Myself and Esmerelda and the doggies are perfectly fine here. We have one of those things for putting out fires in the kitchen, you know,’ she added, delighted with herself. ‘I got it out of a catalogue from the weekend newspaper.’
‘There are too many things out of catalogues,’ said Ginger, ‘With this many boxes lying around, the place is a fire hazard. I bet you can’t find the fire extinguisher for a start, and the ambulance people would never be able to get to you if something happened.’
‘You got to me,’ said Grace, ever the debating expert.
‘I know,’ said Ginger, ‘but that’s because I know the pathway.’
Grace laughed. ‘It’s a bit like Indiana Jones in that lovely film,’ she said. ‘I did always like that Harrison Ford man. Very attractive. Still, how are you, seriously?’
She looked at her great-niece with those piercing blue eyes that hadn’t dimmed a bit ever since Ginger had known her. Grace might hoard like a maniac, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with her mental faculties.
‘Has Esmerelda been trying to tell you you should get a man again or go on a diet?’
Ginger laughed.
‘You know, she’s the only person who doesn’t upset you if they say that type of thing,’ said Grace, ‘and she only does it because she cares for you. But nobody has the right to tell you how to live your life, darling. Have a man, don’t have a man—’
‘She suggested “woman” this time,’ interrupted Ginger, grinning.
‘Oh, lovely,’ said Grace delightedly. ‘We could be thoroughly modern and you could have the wedding here. Is that it, because don’t think you can’t tell me because I’m old-fashioned. Rita up the road nearly had a heart attack when she heard her grandson was gay, silly old fossil. She’s a total hypochondriac and doesn’t have an open-minded bone in her body. I mean, who cares who anyone goes to bed with. It’s nobody else’s business—’
‘I’m not gay.’
‘It was just a thought,’ said Grace. ‘You could both wear white dress suits. I have just the necklaces ...’ She sighed at the beauty of it all. ‘You’re quite sure?’ Grace asked beadily. ‘Because I could go down to Rita immediately and tell her. Invite her to the wedding too! What a hoot! And if she pretends to have a heart attack at an invitation to a lesbian wedding, then I’ll tell people about that fling she had with the window cleaner in the nineteen-seventies.’ Grace tapped the side of her nose. ‘I don’t forget these things.’
‘I don’t wantanyone,’ said Ginger.
‘We all want someone,’ said Grace, suddenly sombre. ‘Like I wanted Arthur and he wanted me. Nobody wants to be alone, darling, and Esmerelda, in her beautifully blunt way, is just saying that. She thinks that if you are thin, a man will appear out of nowhere. Nothing is that simple. You need to feel wonderful about yourself and then it doesn’t matter what size, shape or sexuality you are. You’ll find the love of your life. The only thing you have to lose is your emotional baggage. Deal with growing up without your mother and learn that you are not what you weigh, sweetheart.’
For a moment, Ginger couldn’t speak.
Grace could always do this to her: say something so perfectly truthful and real that it reached right into her heart. But she was wrong, of course. If Ginger was thin, then maybe she might have a man. And she’d never known her mother in the first place.
‘Enough of the philosophy,’ Ginger said, composing herself and determined to change the subject. ‘I just dropped in to see how you were and to discuss what we talked about last time, which is possibly getting rid of some of the stuff ...?’
At this, Grace looked a little bit shifty. ‘I’m not sure I want to get rid of things.’
‘You won’t be able to buy new things if you don’t get rid of some of the old things,’ wheedled Ginger. ‘There’s really no room for anything else ...’
‘There’s room for jewellery.’
‘Jewellery is interesting but comes in small boxes. The hall is full of big boxes.’
‘Kitchen things,’ said Grace happily.
She had a terrible weakness for cooking gadgets: slicers, dicers, things that could make soup, things that neatly went into the fridge and made the soup for you. She had them all.
‘Esmerelda’s just as bad as me,’ Grace protested. ‘You want to see her here in the evenings pointing at things on the television, saying, “we want that”.’
‘I know,’ said Ginger, thinking the battle was almost won. ‘Perhaps I could come around soon and look at all the boxes of things you haven’t opened and perhaps consider selling them.’
She knew this was an enormous job. It would require a truck to get the older purchases to any charity shop decent enough to take them.
It was either that, or put half the house for sale on the internet, and Ginger quailed at the thought of photographing everything and trying to sell it online. But it had to be done.
