Danika glances at the rear seat of the car. Bella and Cami are both sound asleep, heads lolling, as Kim drives back to the city.
She looks over at Kim. “Are you okay driving? Want to stop for coffee somewhere?”
“I’m fine.” Kim doesn’t take her eyes off the road. “I’d rather get back. I have a new job starting Monday, and I have a lot to do before then. Including laundry.”
“Me too,” Danika says. “The laundry, not the job. Well, I have to play catch-up for these few days off, but that’s okay. Where’s your job?”
“Oakleigh,” Kim says. “Not too far. It’s someone who came over from England to finalise her estranged brother’s estate. She wants most of it gone.”
“That must be weird. If they were estranged for a while, it’d be like going through a stranger’s possessions.”
“She didn’t say how long. But she’s not too happy about it. My client is the only sibling. The parents are too frail to travel this far, so she had to come.”
“Your job sounds more interesting than mine,” Danika says. “I just type reports about torn ACLs and arthroscopies. They all sound the same after a while.”
“My job can be frustrating. Often, I’m hired by someone who knows they need to declutter, then spends the day telling me why they have to keep every single item. Clothes that are four sizes too small. Granny’s chipped tea set that’s jammed at the back of a cupboard, books that no one has read for decades and will never read again.”
“People keep the strangest things, but sentimental value can be strong. A link to the past.”
“I know, and I try to be empathetic about that. But I wish people wouldn’t hire me if they can’t bear to part with anything.”
“You’re part of the process,” Danika says. “Letting go. Maybe it doesn’t work for them this time, but that they hired you in the first place is a step along the way.”
“You’re right. And many of them come back to me weeks or months later. I just feel bad that I couldn’t do my job the first time. The ones I find the hardest are older people who are downsizing or moving into aged care. Often, they have no choice—they have to get rid of so much of their life. There’s been tears.”
Danika thinks of her house. It’s full of Cami’s outgrown toys and other clutter. There are still some of Chris’s things. “I should hire you to help me declutter,” she says impulsively.
There’s a silence. Then, “I don’t think I’m the right person to help you with that.”
Danika closes her eyes. Of course, it would be painful for Kim. “I’m sorry.” She stares ahead at the highway where traffic is slowing. “That was a stupid, insensitive thing to say. It just came out.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Kim says. “I understand. If you want, I can recommend someone else.”
“Maybe I’ll start myself,” she says. “Start small, move to the big stuff.”
“I recommend starting big,” Kim says. “Then you see an immediate difference. Otherwise, you can get hung up on the teaspoons.”
Danika laughs. “You’ve been looking in my cutlery drawer.”
“I have.” Kim’s smile lifts her profile. “There must be thirty teaspoons in there!”
“You can never have too many. Although my mum disagrees. She says her hardest battle in selling real estate is persuading the sellers to remove all their knick-knacks and treasures before an open-for-inspection. Apparently, buyers like to see a blank canvas they can put their own stamp on.”
“I bet Shirley’s great at what she does,” Kim says.
“She is. She was the top salesperson in our area last year. The year before that too.”
Kim slows as they approach Geelong. “I’d rather not stop, but I’d love a coffee all the same. Shall we get takeaway?”
“Absolutely!”
Kim pulls onto the slip-road and into a cluster of businesses where there’s a café. The girls are still sleeping.
“I’ll get it,” Danika says.
She takes her bag and goes into the café. Coffee and Anzac biscuits for her and Kim, and, in case they wake up, some caramel slice for the girls that she hopes won’t make too much of a mess in Kim’s car. A few minutes later, she slides back into the car and hands Kim her coffee.
Kim takes a sip and places the cup in the cupholder. “Thanks. That’s good.” She jerks her head toward the rear seat. “Not a peep from our two sleeping beauties.”
