Page 53 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
‘I used to think it was all about a man, a man called Uno, that perhaps it was the inventor’s name,’ Eliza admits. ‘Now I know it meansonein Italian.’
They attempt a round, soon realising there is no way around Edith showing her cards, and instead spread them out on the table in front of her, letting her pick with them on full display. It’s a bit like playing with a child, Zara thinks and ponders how wisdom and naivety can live in the same body to such degree. Humans are just a mix of emotions and thoughts and it’s a wonder anyone is all right at all, thinking about it.
‘I am in awe of you for looking after Edith, even if it’s just temporary,’ Eliza says as Zara fills Edith’s wine into a colourful cup, to just the right level for it to not spill when it’s drunk.
They let her win, Edith. Then they put the game away and before they have to think of something to talk about, Edith has picked a topic.
‘One day I didn’t leave bed at all. Today you’d just call it a duvet day and argue that kids need it, but in my day there was no iPad and no excuse for a mum who couldn’t face the world.’
‘We do need duvet days, Edith,’ Eliza offers.
‘Let’s find some pictures of good days.’ Zara gets up from the sofa and Eliza’s eyes follow her. The photo album is thick and brown, and the leather has peeled off in patches. Zara opens a page at random. Edith and Blade on a beach.
‘Remember this?’
‘I look like a good mum there.’
‘You are a good mum.’
‘I don’t know if I can trust pictures. There’s this one photo I don’t know what to make of.’
‘Which one?’ Eliza asks.
‘I’m not sure where it’s gone. I’ll show you if I find it,’ Edith says.
Zara has moved on, flicking the pages, looking for the most joyous moments.
‘Someone’s birthday party,’ she says, showing them what looks like a dinner party in this house. Oversized nineties shirts and plastic earrings.
‘Do you go to many parties?’ Zara asks gently.
‘You mean like this one? I’ve been known to host the odd tea party, yes.’ Eliza smiles at her.
Oh Zara is inluck.A woman who thinks a party means tea and that everyone deserves good memories.
It’s only ten o’clock but Zara knows Edith by now. She’s calmed enough to not have that anxious empty stare, grounded by pictures and images she recognises. She wouldn’t follow Zara around any longer, but she’s still not in charge of her memories and only sleep can restore them.
‘I’ll take Edith up to bed,’ she tells Eliza.
Eliza starts assembling her belongings into a pile and drains the contents of her glass in order to bring it to the kitchen. Zara quickly stops her.
‘Will you not stay for a while? Finish the bottle of wine?’
The wine glass swiftly returns to the table, and Eliza’s hands let go of the phone and sweater she was about to put in her bag.
‘Of course. Would love to.’
‘Right, I’ll only be a minute or two. Make sure she’s alltucked up and happy. Then I’ll be right down again. I feel like there are still some memories to be made tonight,’Zara says.
Upstairs, after watching Edith brush her teeth and get changed and before going downstairs to the living room where a very sweet, very spell-binding estate agent waits for her, Zara hovers, hoping Edith will collect her memories whilst she sleeps. Every last one.
‘Edith,’ she whispers into the dark. ‘Remember—it’s just your memories that are gone. Blade still has them all. The good memories. And I’m sure you made enough of those.’
Blade
Tenhult
We’re both relieved not to have dinner plans the next evening and to be able to retreat to our camp site. Sophia so that she can reset from her visit to her parents and me so I can come to terms with what I now know and have been waiting to dig into: Sophia’s uncle’s name was Sven. He went to London in 1996. My mum had his address. I know what this might mean.
