Page 5 of Lost Luggage
Dolly gave a tentative nod and pulled on her anorak. Going to Jamaica would help him forget Tony.
She waved her hand and opened the front door, calling to him without looking back. ‘That blank cheque you promised, if I dealt with the spider, make sure you write it out to Dorothy, not Dolly.’
5
Dolly walked past the still life oil painting in Leroy’s hallway, past a large black suitcase, and dumped two shopping bags in his kitchen, trying to guess the contents of his case and what exciting thing a bidder at the auction might find in it. Soul music boogied out of the lounge. If a place called Motown actually existed, the two of them would move there in an instant. Changing out of her joggers and fleece required too much effort but she’d half-heartedly applied a slash of lipstick. Whilst Leroy checked his flight time again, Dolly heaved one of the shopping bags on to the kitchen table and took out her flask.
Leroy’s lips twitched upwards. ‘My tea still not good enough for you, gal?’
‘You know I’m very fussy when it comes to a cuppa.’ At least that’s what Greta used to say about Dolly, insisting tea tasted the same whether the milk went in first or last, but Dolly could always tell. ‘What’s happened to your metallic case with the rainbow stickers?’ she asked.
‘In Jamaica I just have to be a bit... careful.’
Dolly went to protest about him going.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he added firmly.
She pulled out a packet of sausage rolls, tipping them unceremoniously into a bowl. A ready-made, pale-looking quiche followed, and two packets of sandwiches that she opened up and broke into smaller halves using her fingers. Next, crisps and a tub of brownies, biscuits too.
When she stopped, Leroy was watching her.
‘Told you I’d provide the food,’ she said and licked her fingers after turning a Swiss roll on to a plate.
‘You will look after yourself, won’t you Dolly?’
‘I’ve been out to the shop, haven’t I?’ The increasingly snug fit of her wardrobe proved she wasn’t wasting away; Leroy was just fussing. Her eyes pricked. Fussing she’d miss. But it wouldn’t do to be sad on his last night in Knutsmere. She raised her glass as he slid the rum over. Each then stacked a plate with beige and headed into the lounge, chatting about the soaps and how she’d have to message Leroy the latest plotlines. Another rum later, he took their empty plates into the kitchen and strutted back as a song about blaming the moonlight came on. The burgundy leather sofa bounced up and down as he collapsed next to her.
‘I blame moonlight. When I first met Tony on Canal Street, after that Boxing Day party, he stood staring at the moon’s reflection, dancing on the water, looking damn sad – and damn fit. I asked if he was all right just before he threw up on to a patch of daisies. Some of it splashed on to my shoes.’
‘How romantic.’
Leroy went to the wooden drinks’ cabinet, poured two more rums and came back. Tony had insisted on swapping numbers. As an apology he’d taken Leroy out to dinner the following week and was waiting outside the restaurant with a bunch of large daisies. Leroy swirled his tumbler and explained how he’d hoped Tony might have texted or rung him today, even dropped by, to wish him a Happy New Year.
‘I still miss seeing his shaver next to mine, or the funny Italian accent he’d put on if I made lasagne, how he’d put his arm around me if we watched a movie. I miss the way people stared at him, the admiring glances, the fact that he’d chosen me. It was the best birthday present ever, last April, when he moved in.’ His voice broke. ‘I hadn’t been so happy since Charlie…’
Dolly squeezed his hand. Charlie was a chef with dual citizenship and an infectious sense of humour. Born in America but with a British mother, he’d grown up in Miami but moved over here in his twenties. Leroy had met him at work and fallen hard. They’d dated for over a year. Charlie had organised a disco-themed party for Leroy’s sixtieth and baked him a red velvet loaf cake with a jam heart running through the middle. Leroy couldn’t take enough photos. But then Charlie decided he had to move back to the States – his brother had fallen seriously ill and he wanted to be there for his family. This only made Leroy love him more.
Tony had reignited a romantic spark in Leroy, and like him, loved fireworks. They’d let some off in his garden the night Tony brought his stuff over, and when it was the sixth-month anniversary of them meeting, in June – and for Tony’s July birthday. Leroy had stayed in for Bonfire Night last month, on the off-chance that Tony would call by. She understood. All these months later, Dolly still expected Greta to walk through the front door, calling to her to put the kettle on, as if the worst hadn’t happened after all. Leroy may have only been with Tony nine months but wounds that have got infected don’t heal – infected with phrases such aswhat if, if only, why me?The wound doesn’t scab over so there’s nothing to protect it.
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I know there was… you had… What would you blame it on?’
Her eyebrows knotted together.
‘You know… that time you fell in love.’
‘It’s a long time ago, I was barely out of my teens,’ she said briskly. A nagging pain jabbed her stomach, no doubt due to eating too quickly. Leroy nudged her with his elbow and she exhaled. ‘I blame his silliness, I suppose. The world was a less serious place with him around. He brought out my lighter side.’ None of the other men she’d dated over the years had ever managed that. ‘But enough about that. Before you go, I… need your help.’ She disappeared into the kitchen and came back. Dolly hovered in the lounge doorway, one hand holding the tub of brownies, the other behind her back.
Leroy looked over. ‘Now I’m intrigued.’
She put the brownies on the coffee table, and the notebook fell to the floor. As the pages fanned open she couldn’t help catching sight of several words. Her eyes widened.Frankenstein’s monster?Eating jellyfish? Swiftly she closed the notebook and showed it to Leroy. Explained about this year’s lost luggage.
‘I don’t suppose it would harm, you looking at the bits I already have,’ she said. However, Greta would have called it nosiness. Once, when Dolly was little, her big sister had caught her rummaging through her bedside cabinet. Dolly had been looking for make-up to play with. How her ears had hurt after Greta shouted, saying you shouldnever,ever, pry into people’s belongings.
Leroy read the two pages at the beginning, allowed by Dolly. ‘This Ms Goodbody from Manchester, she’s as bright as a button and… I kind of like the sound of her. She’s had a hard year and is trying to move on.’
Leroy and Dolly looked at each other.
‘Is she on Facebook?’ he asked.
