Page 28 of Lost Luggage
‘What about your parents?’ It was out before Dolly could stop it.
‘I’ve lived with my grandparents for as long as I can remember,’ Phoebe said abruptly. ‘Isn’t it enough that you’ve read my private notebook? Why all the questions as well?’
‘Sorry. I’m out of practice – you know, talking to people. It’s hard to offend a goldfish.’ Cheeks flushed, Dolly picked up one of the colourful napkins Steve had put down and ran a finger over the picture of half a sun above a horizon. ‘My situation hasn’t been that different. I’ve lived with Greta for most of my life and moved back after a difficult time too, after being let down badly, in the seventies.’
‘A man?’
She explained about Fred. All the plans they’d made. The proposal, the trip to Paris – and how he’d up and left out of the blue for greener pastures.
‘That Fred sounds like a right selfish bastard.’
‘That’s what Greta always thought – without the B word. She didn’t swear, ever… What about you?’
‘Granddad’s always telling me off for using the F word, so I only use it now in the most extreme circumstances.’
‘No. I mean, this last year. Was it to do with a boyfriend? If you don’t mind me asking?’
She looked away. Their meals arrived. The two women stared at their plates. Then at each other’s.
Dolly sighed. ‘I’m on a health-kick.’
‘Me too,’ said Phoebe and she picked up her fork. She pushed the lumps of cheese around before she took a deep breath, broke off a chunk and put it into her mouth.
Dolly had never heard of a cheese diet.
‘The ring in the trunk is so beautiful, the way the pearl is set inside a ring of diamonds,’ said Dolly.
‘It belonged to my gran’s mother. I only wear it if I’m going somewhere special. I’m so grateful to have it back.’ She ate another small mouthful of cheese. ‘The July challenge, last year, was to keep a gratitude journal for a month. I never thought I’d manage it but persevered. It taught me to appreciate the small things like a beautiful sunrise or friendly smile from a customer.’
‘I’d love to hear more about your year of firsts,’ said Dolly, unable to bear another minute of the silence that fell as they each forced down their meals. ‘I was scared stiff at the balloon debate and can’t believe I put myself through speed-dating. You’re so brave.’
‘The notebook was the idea of my friend, Maisie, who reckons the worst pain, on death, would be from regrets. Despite her having travelled far and wide, despite having children, I get the impression Maisie has severalif onlys. Swimming has been the worst one so far.’
‘It’s been the easiest for me,’ said Dolly. ‘Water is so… freeing.’
‘Don’t you feel… exposed?’
‘As Greta used to say, you come into this world naked; we’re our true selves when swimming.’ When having sex, too, not that Greta would ever have said that. Dolly pictured Fred, how under the covers, with him, she used to feel more like the inner Dolly that not everyone else saw. ‘Why have you found it the hardest challenge so far?’
Phoebe took a moment. ‘I don’t like… being the centre of attention, and at a pool everyone in the water looks to see who is coming out of the changing room. In fact, I don’t like people looking at me at all, even with my clothes on. It’s why I hardly left the house for so long.’
Steve came back with steaming coffees, each with a biscuit on the side. Having only eaten half the sandwich so far, Dolly tore open the plastic packet and ate the Biscoff rectangle in one go. Phoebe stared at hers for a moment, before opening it and nibbling a corner. Dolly glanced at the clock above Steve’s bar. Fifteen minutes left.
‘You said in the introduction to your notebook that you needed change, that you’d been hiding away, like you’ve just said… I could have written that. I suppose that’s one reason I took on the challenges. You see… my sister died, the year before last.’
‘Oh. That’s crap.’
‘I shut myself away for a good twelve months.’
‘Did…’ Phoebe paused. ‘Did hiding away help? Did anyone try to intervene?’
‘At first. Then the visits tailed off. It didn’t bother me. I’d stopped replying to texts and calls. But I’ve come to realise how my close neighbours were superstars. Little Flo next door with her chatter that made a change from the television. She didn’t worry about the mess, didn’t expect entertaining conversation. Same with Leroy on the other side. Is your granddad like that?’
Dolly took a mouthful of coffee, for one moment stepping back from the scene, looking at herself out socialising – lunching with someone who’d felt like a friend through the notebook, in the way characters did when you read a story. Dolly had actually got out, drunk wine and made conversation. How had this happened?
‘When things were really bad he gave little nudges.’
Dolly pulled a face. ‘Sounds like Leroy. I used to put my earbuds in.’
