Page 25 of Will You Stay Another Day?
16
Lili sat in the staffroom, eating her tuna sandwich, still unsettled by last night’s bad dream about Em in the sea. She sipped her cup of tea. It had been a while since she’d had one of those nightmares. She’d always tell Bobbin about them whenever they happened. The bird would cock its head and listen patiently – nothing to do with the feed in Lili’s hand, she’d insist with a wry smile. Although Bobbin would never eat whilst she recounted a dream, which always started off with Lili and Em having fun, based on a real memory – like last night’s, with the two of them driving to the beach, eating Rolos, something they’d done often. But then events would take an unexpected turn and end with water and drowning.
Neither Meg nor Tommo were in today. A team of retired women held the fort, enthusiastic, highly organised and thankfully unafraid of the computerised till that often had a mind of its own. She finished her lunch and went upstairs into the stockroom. As she briefly passed through the shop, Lili waved at Glenda, whose visits were now daily since yet another friend had died. Always a smile. Always a slash of lipstick. Getting out and connecting with people was her method of coping. Lili’s was to carry on as normal. It had worked. It had. That was why last night’s sobbing had shocked her – and yet been necessary, as if the tears had emptied a wounded part of Lili that now had space to… to perhaps be filled with something more positive.
She peered at two bags that Tommo had carried up yesterday but hadn’t had time to sift through. The usual flicker of excitement danced in her stomach as if Santa had delivered the donations. Every object in the shop had, originally, been bought for a reason; had been worth the money that owner spent. What would she discover today? Whatever it was, she would never call it junk, like house-clearer Dylan did.
Not him again, with eyes and hair that belonged to a sensual night, with hands, with lips, that matched that too… Push the thought of him away, Lili. It won’t do you any good.
She pulled open the first bag at the top and stuck in her hand. Lili pulled out a bundle of Babygros, small shoes, and after that, a pile of baby’s first books. Ah, someone’s child was growing up. Expensive years lay ahead for this parent, now on the never-ending hamster wheel of accommodating an ageing child and changing needs. Potties to My Little Pony toys to pocket money. A few baby jumpers lay at the bottom. Oh. How beautiful. Clearly hand-knitted, one lemon yellow, the other white, both unisex. They’d be snapped up. Underneath those, the very last item was… She lifted it out. Wow. What a stunning snow dome. Inside the glass was a white rocking horse. Intricate lines of gold artwork danced around the porcelain base. On one side was a small silver key. A musical box! Gently, Lili wound it up. It played ‘You Are My Sunshine’. Neither the glass nor porcelain were scratched.
Carefully, she put it on a shelf where other objects waited to be priced. Lili opened the other bag, bulging and ripped on one side. She dug both arms in and pulled out a big pile of clothes – trousers, jumpers, some of them too worn to sell. All smart casual, old-school style, a jacket in decent condition and a collection of cravats that confirmed Lili’s view these had belonged to an elderly gentleman. Next out was a pile of dog-eared LPs, jazz music mainly – Cole, Brubeck, Armstrong. Lili reached in again and took out a carved smoker’s pipe. She’d seen several of these over the years, often made from beechwood. However, this one was unusual. Its dark orange bowl was carved into the shape of a bull’s head, and the stem had been fashioned into a lovely butterscotch colour. No doubt it was made from amber. Last out was a pile of puzzle books, some half-filled. They were no good. Lili went to throw the bag away but it still pulled down at the bottom. She reached in and took out a small plastic case containing…
A pair of dentures!
Not the first time, nor would it be the last, and a sad confirmation that this gentleman had no doubt passed. Ware & Care had a list of items it wouldn’t accept – medical, like this, gas or electrical appliances, toys without the safety CE mark, nothing made from banned products such as ivory; the list went on, including sex toys. Meg and Tommo hadn’t been able to stop laughing when she’d once brought down a vibrator. A glint in her eyes, Glenda had been there and offered to buy it.
Lili tidied the bags away and went down to the shop. Frost had nipped the air this morning and she hoped Glenda was doing okay. No doubt she was using her new hot water bottle.
The door jingled and opened.
‘Callum? And hello there, Jack, how are you?’ Lili and the little boy high-fived.
‘Dad told me there’s a dinosaur board game in here.’ Jack put up his two hands and gave a roar.
Callum patted him on the head.
‘Great to see you in here,’ she said whilst Jack headed over to the toy section. ‘You collect LPs, don’t you? We’ve just had some new jazz ones come in. They’ll be on the shelf next week. Brubeck. You’ve bought him before?’
Callum’s face brightened.
‘And one by a Chet Baker.’ She shrugged. ‘Never heard of him myself.’
‘Seriously?’ he said. ‘I’ll try to get in during a lunch hour next week.’ He sighed. ‘No. No, I mustn’t. I just haven’t got the room. Jack’s needs should fill any space.’
‘Dad! Come and look at this!’
‘In a minute, Jack,’ said Callum. ‘Thanks, Lili. I… I appreciate you looking out for me and my son. Marge, my neighbour, she said she’s catching the bus over to your place, in Truro, tomorrow afternoon for some special event. She said how very much talking to you had helped. I thought you should know, that’s all.’ He headed over to Jack, who’d dropped the box’s contents onto the floor and was picking up the pieces.
What happened at Lili’s on a Sunday could help Callum too. But it wasn’t her place to say more, not at the moment anyway.
17
Lili got up early and made herself pancakes and syrup. She hadn’t gone to such effort at home for breakfast since Em died. Then she walked down to the newsagents to buy a Sunday paper and came back to the cottage and read it in the back garden with a large cup of coffee. She put a bowl of feed out for Bobbin and the robin kept her company, eating on the table. She’d covered her knees and legs with a blanket as frost still lay around, reminding Lili that Christmas was around the corner. When her toes became numb, she went inside and baked fresh scones for the afternoon. On the way home yesterday, she’d bought clotted cream and always had strawberry jam in the fridge.
After lunch, with only half an hour to go until two o’clock, she quickly vacuumed, pushed back the sofa to give her three guests more space and lit incense sticks. She covered the coffee table, in the middle of the room, with a white cloth and a small vase of flowers. Lili also set down a box of tissues and an instant camera. She turned on a Spotify playlist of relaxing, instrumental Japanese music. She left the scones in the kitchen. They would restore everyone later.
The doorbell rang and Lili hurried into the hallway. She opened the door. ‘Hello, Marge. Come on in.’
A woman entered with pure white hair, in a cloud of rich, heady perfume, wearing large, black-rimmed glasses and an embroidered multi-coloured coat. Marge often frequented Crystoffees. She had been one of Em’s favourite customers, a well-spoken lady who sounded as if she originally came from a posh part of London. She carried a plastic bag. Lili gave her a hug, hung up Marge’s coat and showed her into the lounge. The doorbell rang again. It was Tarone from across the road, still in his postman’s outfit that fitted tightly around his generous waist. His face was covered in perspiration. His extra shift in light of the looming festive season had just finished and he had a rucksack on his back. He wore shorts throughout winter and had done for every day of his twenty-year career. Lili was handing out glasses of water when the third guest arrived, in practical jeans and flat shoes and hair scraped back into a tight ponytail – Jill, who cleaned the charity shop every night, a single mum. A small leather bag was slung across her shoulder. Nervously, the three of them sat on the sofa and Lili joined them, settling in a small wooden, upholstered armchair. She and Em had bought it from a flea market and its curved legs shone thanks to Lili’s re-varnishing.
Tarone rubbed his forehead, brushing chin-length dreadlocks away from his face. ‘Before we start, can you explain about the ceremony again? What exactly am I supposed to do? I’ve mulled over everything you told me, Lili, and I’ve prepared myself, but I’m worried I’ll get it wrong.’
The three of them clutched their bags tightly. In recent weeks, one by one, they’d asked about her Sunday afternoons. Marge’s hairdresser had told her about Lili’s special events, Tarone had heard from his neighbour and Jill found out from one of her children. What was about to happen was private, personal, not to earn money, nor status, nor kudos. It was about attraction, not promotion, and since moving to Cornwall, since Em encouraged her to follow her gut with her mission, Lili’s Sundays had attracted many people in need. She always prepared her guests thoroughly. Tarone wouldn’t need her to go through it again – but she sensed he was simply procrastinating; he was anxious.
‘You can’t do it wrong, Tarone. It’s down to you.’ Lili smiled. ‘I’ve told you about my travels and how I learnt… how I grew to believe that inanimate objects are not much different to us humans. Certainly not in terms of the building blocks of life. They just lack the processes necessary to be called living – how to eat, reproduce, respire, how to move and adapt.’
Tarone nodded. ‘I did my own research after speaking to you. It’s like… at the end of the day everything on earth is just a mass of protons, neutrons and electrons. We’re all the same.’
