Page 26 of Will You Stay Another Day?
‘Exactly.’ Lili took a sip of water. ‘That’s why, in Japan, some of these objects are given funerals. They’ve played an important part in people’s lives. Over the years I’ve known several people who, for example, have felt sad saying goodbye to an old car, even though they’re excited for a new one. The car holds so many memories, good times, bad times. It becomes part of a person’s personal history and therefore they’ve attached emotions to it.’
‘Those emotions we feel around certain objects, it’s why we find it hard to let go of particular objects,’ said Marge.
‘Yes. Now and then, someone returns to the shop after dropping off an object. They take it back if we haven’t sold it. Others, you can just see, are massively relieved when they hand over their belongings. Sometimes holding on to this stuff can hold us back, in the past. When an object means that much, it’s about giving it some sort of send-off, rather than just dumping it in a bin.’
‘It’s an opportunity to find closure,’ said Jill.
‘Yes. All sorts of people have taken part now in these ceremonies, with all sorts of objects. The job of this afternoon is to set you free from whatever is holding you back. That’s why I call it a freedom ceremony.’
Tarone’s frown lines had eased.
The serious expression on Lili’s face lifted. ‘Then there are freshly baked scones for afterwards.’
Tarone fiddled with one of his dreadlocks. His cheeks flushed. ‘At first I wasn’t sure about approaching you but my neighbour, Pete, insisted that what happened here dramatically helped his daughter after a break-up with her boyfriend. I feel a bit stupid about it all though, to be honest, saying goodbye to something made of metal.’
‘There’s no pressure,’ Lili said. ‘You can change your mind. Perhaps someone else would like to go first?’
Jill squirmed in her seat.
Marge adjusted her glasses. ‘Delighted to do it. Ever since my hairdresser first mentioned this, I’ve been itching to take part.’
Lili gave a thumbs up.
‘Do I stand?’ she asked.
‘Whatever you are comfortable with.’
Marge pushed herself up, walked over to the window and turned around, in front of the others. She reached into her plastic bag and pulled out… a bird feeder, rusty and scratched. Her chin trembled ever so slightly.
‘I lived with my sister until she died nearly two years ago. Neither of us got married. She was older, and more outgoing – or so I always assumed. I realised, when she passed, that I’d been living in her shadow…’ Her voice broke, just a little. ‘Hence the big glasses, the colourful clothes now. I’m making up for lost time. One is never too old for change. That’s my motto these days.’ She swallowed, held the feeder in the air and looked at it straight on. ‘I’m against discarding items unnecessarily, which is why I’ve not got rid before. But every time I look out to admire my garden, I don’t see the lush plants or vibrant lawn, all I see is this – and my sister. And sometimes I… I hated her.’
Marge’s voice faltered again, and Lili nodded encouragingly.
‘I didn’t comprehend clearly at the time, but she was a bully. I don’t use that word lightly. Over the last couple of years, as that realisation has sunk in, I’ve had no issue with getting rid of her personal items. She put me off a young man I was engaged to years ago; said she’d witnessed him kissing someone else. Now I wonder if that was true. He denied it, became upset, and one of the reasons I was so fond of Alfie was that he had no side to him. But one should be able to trust their relatives, surely?’ Marge’s voice broke again. ‘She made me do so many things around the house – cleaning, cooking. She said her career as an administrator for a marine insurance company was far more important than mine as a teaching assistant. As the years passed it was simply easier to keep the peace. I did most of the housework. And that was acceptable. I enjoyed baking, and scrubbing was cathartic.’ She looked at the feeder. ‘But the one thing I detested doing was topping this up with seed. Freda made me do it, however inclement the weather. She’d moan if it became dirty and send me outside in snow or ice. She didn’t care as long as the birds were content.’
Marge’s face softened and she swung the feeder gently from side to side. ‘You’re a small thing but you represent so much – how I surrendered to her whim; couldn’t stand up for myself; got stuck in a rut of doing everything she asked, to avoid confrontation. Well, that’s not me any more. And… I’m no bird lover! There, I’ve said it!’
The other three smiled, even Lili, who was glad that Bobbin couldn’t hear.
‘They do their business everywhere, especially pigeons, and make a dreadful racket first thing in the morning.’ She held the feeder in both hands and addressed it directly. ‘It’s not your fault. You did your job. And thank you. But I need to move on. The house, inside, now feels like a safe place, free from her memory, happy, kind, cosy. Now I need to be able to look out onto my garden and feel peace and see the joy in my flowers and shrubs.’
Marge looked up. Lili got to her feet and went over. She stretched out her hand and Marge passed her the feeder.
‘Would you like a photo to keep?’ Lili asked gently.
‘No. Thank you. I would not.’ She reached out and touched the feeder. ‘You’ve been extremely fit for purpose…’ She hesitated. ‘Thank you, dear chap, for your service over the years. Many birds have survived the winter because of the food you’ve provided. I have no bad feelings towards you.’ Her fingers stroked the wire casing for the briefest of moments.
Lili patted Marge’s arm and then placed the feeder on the windowsill, a temporary home until her guests had left. Then she would dispose of it.
‘Well done,’ muttered Tarone as Marge sat down. ‘That was… nicely done.’
Jill gave Marge a sideways hug. Then she looked at Tarone. He took a deep breath and stood up. He went over to where Marge had been and took the toaster out of his rucksack. He held it in front of him and exhaled.
‘I saw the doc a few weeks ago. My cholesterol’s higher than the Brown Willy hill and diabetes is in the post – no pun intended. This has been a long time coming. You see…’ He held the toaster more closely and ran a finger over a dent in it. ‘When I was little, Mum used to call me Porky and she was always commenting on other people’s size. I grew up thinking everyone would judge me. It’s not her fault my health has got to this point. I could have reacted differently. Instead I’ve had a messed-up relationship with food. I’ve chosen to deal with my problems, over the years, by stuffing my face with cakes and takeaways. And you, my trusty toaster’ – he ran a hand over the dial at the side – ‘you’ve been my favourite mate. Nothing beats a slice of toast with bubbles of butter, as my granddad used to call it; with honey or jam, with peanut butter. I went through a whole loaf once, in one sitting. And toast is cheap. Whenever I’m on a downer, you’ve been a reliable friend and I’ve gone to you time after time. Out of everything in my kitchen – the cupboards full of tasty grub, the microwave – it’s you that represents a lifestyle I need to leave behind. The doc said stuff about cooking from scratch and putting in the time to get into better shape. I won’t replace you – at least not for a long time.’ His voice wavered. ‘Cheers, mate. Cheers for always being there – during that fallout with my boss and the time I was mugged. A cuppa and a slice of toast always made the day seem better, quick and tasty, instant satisfaction. You and me…’ He grasped the toaster more tightly. ‘We’ve been through a lot together.’
Tentatively, he looked up at Lili, Marge and Jill, whose faces showed nothing but compassion. Lili went over. ‘How about a photo?’
Tarone nodded.
