Page 23 of Date with Destiny

When I bring it through to the office, our clients are already in there, chatting animatedly to Zach. I feel strangely glad we won’t be alone.

‘The future Mr and Mrs Broom!’ I greet them with delight. They came in a few days ago and were absolutely adorable. They’re not yet engaged – hence the need for a ring designer at Celeste’s Stones – but spent the whole time calling one another by their future married names. Maybe it should’ve been cheesy but I found it very sweet. It was a soothing, sweet balm on my anaesthetized wounds. And it felt better than the numbness of cold pain and grief.

I take a seat in front of the computer, diving straight into the conversation, my professional face firmly on. These two are doing everything together when it comes to the proposal. They’re getting each other personalized rings, planning a special trip back to Ireland where Mr Broom is from, and then they’re getting down on one knee for each other. It’s lovely. We look through slides on Zach’s iPad, discussing timeframes, and going over plans. The hour is through too quickly and Zach and I see them to the door, waving our goodbyes.

‘You’re so great with clients,’ Zach beams, as the door shuts behind them. ‘You really go above and beyond.’

‘That’s really nice,’ I say, feeling far away. ‘I’m so happy we’ve been able to get you on board. Everyone loves you. And your designs, of course. I think it’s really going to make a big difference to our business.’

‘Well it’s definitely making a big difference to mine!’ He gives a low laugh. ‘I’m so grateful.’

I feel robotic, as I reply, ‘I’m the grateful one!’

We head for the kitchen area in silence before he speaks again, this time in a softer voice.

‘How have things been?’ he asks and of course I knew this was coming. I hoped it wouldn’t but I knew it would. It had to.

I nod, swallowing hard, using all my energy to stay focused on this moment.

Focus on work. I’m at work. Now is not the time for emotion.

‘The funeral is next week,’ I tell him, breathing carefully. ‘Everything’s been so delayed because of the autopsy and mymum’s been in such a weird, detached state about everything, we just couldn’t get her to sign anything off. Toni and I have had to do quite a lot.’

He gives me a short nod, understanding. ‘I’m sorry, that’s really rough.’

I sigh deeply into my cheeks, his kindness reaching in and through past my numbness. ‘Life is shit sometimes, hey? But we’ll get through it. I miss her a lot.’ I pause to swallow the lump. ‘Alot. But I just wish I could help my mum right now. Or see a hint of her normal self still in there. She’s been so… silent.’

It’s been two weeks since my lovely Aunt Diane died.

She was already slipping away when we got to the hospital that night. We left Zach in A&E reception with barely a thank you as Toni and I ran up and down corridors frantically looking for the right room, my stomach in the floor.

She wasn’t conscious when we finally found it, but I still didn’t understand how serious things were until I saw how white my mum’s face was. I’ve never seen her that colour. She’s usuallyStrictlydancer levels of orange.

Diane had a heart attack, the doctors explained. Which I’m still really, really struggling to understand. I stupidly thought only men had heart attacks.

Celeste said she’d been with Diane all week and she’d seemed OK. She’d been complaining recently about being tired and having indigestion, but that was all. That’slife,isn’t it? Nothing! It was nothing.

But the doctor said those are symptoms, and that women often experience heart attacks differently from men. All that stuff you hear shouted about – like pain in your left arm – doesn’t even usually apply to women. Heartburn and some tiredness; that’s likeevery dayfor a lot of people. How is anyone supposed to know to be worried?

The fourteen days since have felt blurry and out of focus. Nothing I do feels appropriate, but I do everything all the same. I go to work, I make food, I shower, I put the bins out, I debate with myself about putting the heating on because it’s unseasonably cold, despite only being the beginning of September. I continue to cry over Daniel and the loss of that life we were going to have.

Everything feels disrespectful to Diane and wrong, but life has continued to go on.

I’m still kinda numb – in shock I guess – and I can’t stop thinking about my mum. That afternoon in the hospital room, sitting in silence around Diane’s prone body, I kept looking over at Toni and thinking what it would mean to lose her. How much of an impact, ahole, it would leave in my life. You don’t losesisters, I was thinking, waiting for Celeste to break down. But she didn’t.

To be honest, and I feel mean saying it, but in my grief, I thought she would be in howling hysterics, bringing the whole show to her doorstep and wailing for the seats at the back to applaud. But, as Toni and I wept silently and held Diane’s hand, Celeste just sort of shut down.

None of this horrible, painful time has been helped by thefact that I still had to move. I called the landlord the morning after we lost Diane and begged for an extra week or two. I’m ashamed to say that I cried down the phone, and it wasn’t even the grief, it was the humiliation of having to beg. But he was immovable. That husk of a human being had the gall to say my aunt dying wasn’t his problem.

And so, with help from Sonali, Myfanwy and Toni, plus half-hearted WhatsApp well-wishes from Emily, we moved all my stuff back to my mother’s house.

‘If there’s anything I can do…’ Zach offers lamely, putting a hand on my shoulder.

‘I appreciate it,’ I tell him, meaning it. Toni and I have had to carry everything for the last couple of weeks. It feels nice to have someone ask how I’m doing. ‘But what can anyone do?’

He doesn’t answer, which makes me sad. I hoped he’d have an answer.

Whatcananyone do?

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