The flowers waved in the breeze. Annie shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket. “I better tell you the news. Dr. Max has gone. Turns out he wasn’t interested in me, after all.” Silence. She sighed. “Okay. You’re right. He was interested, I know that, but I scared him off by acting like a madwoman and panicking when he tried to kiss me. My fault. Everyone’s doing what you asked otherwise. Your parents are splitting up—your dad’s looking at flats already. It all seems pretty amicable. Costas handed in his notice. George is going to report Caleb to the police. My mum’s getting out of the hospital soon. I wish you were here to tell me what to do. Do I sell her house? Do I tell her I know about Dad? She might not even understand.”
There was no answer, of course. There never would be. If she thought she heard Polly’s voice in her head it would just be her imagination, a projection, a ghost. “I wish you could send me that email, after all,” she said. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me I’m an idiot. Just something.”
Nothing. In the silence, Annie knelt down and began to prune some of the wreaths.
DAY 91
Reminisce
“What’s the matter with you, love? You do look down in the dumps.”
Annie watched as her mother’s hands flew, knitting the soft yellow wool together. She hoped it wasn’t more baby clothes. That was always hard to stomach. “I am down in the dumps, Maureen. You see, Polly died. She died and I don’t know what to make of the world now she isn’t in it. It feels like...staying too long at a party after the cool people have left.”
“Who’s Polly?” Her mother’s eyes roamed the hospital room, unfocused, but her hands never stopped moving. So deft, so quick, never dropping a single stitch. How could she still do that, when she didn’t know who anyone was?
“She’s...my friend. She was my friend.”
“Jane? Jane is your friend, isn’t she?”
Annie froze. “That’s right. Do you know me, then, Maureen?”
Her mother didn’t look up from her knitting. “Of course I know you, Annie. Haven’t I been sitting here talking to you? And what’s this Maureen business? Call me Mum.”
“Um, sorry.” Annie’s heart was racing. Dr. Quarani had said there might be moments like this, when the clouds parted and she was lucid. When she came back to herself. But she’d almost given up hope. “How are you, Mum?”
“Oh, I’m all right. Bit sick of this place, to be honest. The food is terrible. Worse than when me and your dad went to Butlins in 1975.”
She could have said it: Mum, he’s dead, and why did you not tell me he wanted to meet me? But she didn’t want to spoil the moment, break the spell. “Well, maybe we can get you out of here soon. Where would you like to be, Mum? Would you like to stay with me?”
“In that pokey little flat of yours?” So she remembered Annie had moved out of her nice house. “No offense, love, but I’d rather be at home.”
“I know, but, Mum...it’s not really safe. You had a fall, remember? What if I could find you a really nice care home? Would that be okay? We could—I guess we could sell the house?”
“I suppose. I never did like that house, really.” She went back to her knitting.
“As long as it’s not in with a load of old biddies, though. I mean, I’m not exactly drooling into my porridge yet, Annie.”
“I know, Mum. I’m sure there’s a nice one.” She decided to risk it. “Mum, do you remember everything that happened? With me, and Mike, and Jane, and...everything?”
She frowned. “You and Jane had a falling-out, is that right?”
“That’s right, Mum. But that’s over now. Did you know Jane had a baby? A little girl. They’re calling her Matilda.”
“That’s lovely. Like that book you loved when you were little.”
“Yes, Mum.” She hoped her mother wouldn’t ask who the baby’s father was.
“That’ll be nice for Jacob, won’t it? A little playmate? Did you not bring him today?” She looked around vaguely, as if he might be there somewhere.
Annie’s heart was like a stone. So she didn’t remember everything. And Annie could not bear to remind her, over and over. Kinder to let her think her only grandson was still alive. “No, Mum. I didn’t bring him.”
“Oh, well. Another time. We can take him to the park!” She was beaming. It was funny, but when she had good days now she seemed so happy, in a way she’d never been before. As if the disease was stretching her, pushing her to the very edges of herself, tears and laughter and everything in between. And Annie realized the past few months had been that way for her, too. She had become bigger than herself. Big enough to contain all that sadness and laughter and joy and misery.
She looked at her mother. How could someone who’d given birth to you be such a mystery? She had to at least try. “Mum,” Annie said. “I found the letter Dad sent me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her mother went back to her knitting, as if she couldn’t hear. And maybe she couldn’t.
“I want to say, Mum—I don’t want to upset you, and I know you tried your best, but all those years telling me not to get my hopes up in life, not to go to uni, always scrimp and save...” She swallowed down more tears. They were so near the surface these days. Did her mother even know her father was dead? Would it be cruel to say it? “It wasn’t right to tell me not to wish for the moon. I know you wanted to protect me but—really, what’s the harm in wishing for more in life? Some people say that even if you miss, you’ll be among the stars. Although that makes absolutely no sense in astronomical terms.”
Silence. She watched her mother, who was smiling down at her knitting. “Guess what, Sally. I’m going to wear this sweater to the dance on Saturday!”
Annie sighed. She was Sally again now. “That’s good, Maureen.”
“Maybe Andrew Clarke will be there. Do you think so? He’s just the most dreamy boy at school.”
“Yeah. I bet he will.” Annie paused. “Can you tell me a bit more about Andrew, Maureen? What’s he like?”
DAY 92
Have coffee
George sighed. “It just doesn’t seem right without her here, nagging us into doing something stupid and terrifying.”
They’d met for coffee, the three of them—Annie, George and Costas—but as he said, something was definitely missing. “So you guys have news, you said?”
Costas and George smiled at each other. “You tell.”
“No, you should do it.”
Costas looked anxious. “Annie, I need to tell you I will move out—if okay with you? I will move into a flat with George.”
Annie blinked. “You mean...together? Or to share?”
They exchanged another shy look, and Annie twigged. The flat would likely be a one-bed. “Oh! Well, of course it’s okay with me, Costas. That’s great. Really great.”
George sipped his flat white, leaving a faint foam sheen on his mouth. Annie was reminded, painfully, of Dr. Max. “It would have happened sooner, I think, but, you know, with Caleb, and Polly, and everything...”
“It’s what she would have wanted. I’m sure of it.”