‘She’ll come back. She won’t get very far,’ Elsie said, although she kept her eyes on the window.
The three of us waited. Elsie and I watching through the glass, and Ronnie out there in the car park, watching the darkness.
She didn’t come back.
‘I’m going after her,’ I said.
Elsie followed me into the cloakroom. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Florence. If anyone goes, it should be me.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘You’ll only end up arguing with her as well. I’ll go. I’ll bring her back for you.’
I pulled on my coat, and my arms argued with the sleeves in a rush to leave.
‘Why do you care so much, Florence? Why?’
I stopped fighting with the material, and I looked right into Elsie’s eyes, past all the questions. ‘Because I can’t bear anything to hurt you. Because whatever upsets you, I need to make it stop.’
I could hear my own breathing. It was the only thing I can remember about that moment, and when I look back to us standing there, just the two of us, it’s all I can hear.
‘You’ll freeze to death,’ she said.
I reached across to one of the pegs and took something. Something that wasn’t mine to take. ‘I’ll have this with me, I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Just fine.’
And I wrapped her red scarf around my neck and went out into the night.
HANDY SIMON
The brandy had warmed Simon’s bones, but when he walked into the courtyard, the evening air rushed inside and cooled them all down again. September had clicked into October when no one was looking, and Simon thought it was always the biggest leap. Other months blended nicely together, but those two were always a bit of a jump, and everyone seemed to panic and start wearing big coats. He thought about calling into the staff room and borrowing something for the walk home, but he’d probably be fine once he got going.
Cherry Tree was in darkness. Ten o’clock and everyone was in bed. His boots ate their way across the gravel, and the world was as silent as a Christmas morning. He was halfway across the car park, and considering the idea that he might never have existed at all, when he heard it. A dog. Barking with such urgency, it stopped Simon in his tracks. It was an unusual bark, too. A bit lopsided, and he couldn’t make his mind up if it was a very long way from him, or almost at his side. No one at Cherry Tree had a dog. No pets allowed, that’s what Miss Bissell had decided. Even though there had once been a very heated debate about a goldfish.
He tried to follow the lopsided barking, and the dog seemed to know, because it became more urgent. He followed the path and turned the corner, where he found himself looking up at Miss Claybourne’s flat. There was a light. Just a faint one, in the hallway, leaking a yellow-orange on to the footpath. The barking stopped. He walked up to the front door and the whole of the courtyard was filled with the bright sparkle of the security light. Natasha must have left hours ago.
‘Miss Claybourne?’ He knocked very lightly on the glass. ‘Florence? It’s Simon. Is everything all right in there?’
11.12 p.m.
If I were to look back on my life and find the most important moments, I’m not sure I’d know how to choose. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, lying here, but I still can’t decide which ones they were.
Perhaps it was when I got into a car with Ronnie Butler. I remember it now. How the seats smelled of beer, how I held on to the dashboard and begged him to slow down. I reached out. I tried to steer him away from her. I did everything I could. I know I did.
‘You’ve got to find forgiveness,’ Elsie said; I just didn’t realise she meant I had to find it for myself. Perhaps that’s the most important moment. Not the moment of the mistake itself, but the moment in which you finally forgive yourself for making it.
‘When you thought I was the one in the car, you found forgiveness, Florence. So why can’t you find it for yourself?’
I can hear her saying it. Even though she’s not here any more. It’s strange, because sometimes it feels as though she’s never even left my side.
Perhaps the most important moments of all turn out to be the ones we walk through without thinking, the ones we mark down as just another day. Just another day we have to get through before something more interesting comes along. We benchmark our lives with birthdays and Christmases and holidays, but perhaps we should think more about the ordinary days. The days that pass by and we don’t even notice. Elsie once said that you can’t tell how big a moment is until you turn back and look at it, and I think, perhaps, that she was right.
I think this may be the last of all my moments. I think my forever must have finally arrived. I didn’t imagine this is how it would happen. Lying all alone on the floor, waiting for someone who never arrived. I thought Simon might have been the one to find me. He’ll be clearing away the funeral tea now with Miss Ambrose, stacking plates and sweeping up crumbs. He’ll talk whilst he’s doing it, because that’s just how Simon is. He’ll probably talk to Cheryl more than anyone. I think she’s sweet on him, although he’s as daft as a brush and he hasn’t even noticed. Perhaps he’ll have a drop of brandy before he goes home, to take the edge off the chill, and then he’ll cross the courtyard and his boots will crunch at the gravel in the silence. He’ll be wondering about borrowing a coat before he starts walking, but then he’ll think about me for some reason and he’ll decide to call and check I’m all right. You get these feelings sometimes, don’t you? There’s no sense behind it, but for some reason, you know you need to do a thing and you’ve no idea why.
He’ll notice there’s a light on in the hall, and so he’ll knock on the door, and he’ll shout, ‘Miss Claybourne? Florence? It’s Simon. Is everything all right in there?’
He’ll keep saying it.
‘Florence?’
Over and over again.
I open my eyes. Someone has triggered the security system, and the room is filled with light. It hurts my eyes at first, and I close them against the glare. When I open them again, everything is back. The furniture and the curtains and the television. All the life I left a few hours ago before I fell. But the first thing I see, washed with light, is the mess underneath the sideboard. The pens and the coins, and everything that fell without me noticing. It takes me a moment for my eyes to find it, but it’s there. Right at the back. Resting against the skirting board.
‘Florence?’
A brooch.
A brooch with a smooth, dark stone, and a reflection almost like a mirror. A fossil. A piece of Whitby jet. It’s a perfect circle, flawless and shining with an inky black. Surrounding it is a silver rope, which holds it forever in a polished frame.
‘Florence?’
Something you would buy for someone you love. Not something you would buy for yourself.
‘Miss Claybourne? Florence? It’s Simon. Is everything all right in there?’
I stared at the brooch.
‘I’m fine, Simon. Everything is fine.’
The strength to shout came from somewhere. From a place I didn’t know existed.
‘Are you sure? Is there anything you need?’
The brooch stared back at me. Elsie found me again after all. I stopped myself from reaching out, but then I realised I really didn’t have to any more.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t need anything. Everything I need is right here.’
I heard him turn to leave, his shoes on the footpath outside. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then,’ he shouted.
I waited just a fraction too long. I knew he wouldn’t hear, but I still shouted back. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Simon,’ I said. ‘I’ll be seeing you.’