Page 86 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
‘Not a girlfriend, no. He said I was his one and only love, and that for some of us there are only a few people in this world who can love us truly.’ She looks at me now. Looks at me and doesn’t look away.
‘That’s the truth,’ Mum adds.
‘He said it was like tending to certain flowers. They won’tgrow for anyone. ‘I once tried to control a marigold, aTagetes, Sophia,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t, and so I had to accept defeat and not try to plant it again.’
‘You’re as stubborn as a marigold, Edith,’ my mum suddenly says, and we all look at her.
‘Miss Marigold. He drew you, Edith. We both did. I have the drawings with me. I’ll talk you through the life he imagined for our stick family. I know so much about Miss Marigold. Her favourite season was autumn, she loved to dance and meet new people, and she could make anyone feel like they’d known her for ages.’
We all sit quietly for a while.
‘And why wasn’t he in any pictures? Graduation? The shop website?’
Sophia answers this without hesitation.
‘He hated pictures. Big crowds. Small talk about the weather. Those connections that don’t feel like connections at all. Do you think you’ll findmein many photos? That’s really not strange. I’d be as surprised to see him in a group photo as I was hearing he’d gone to London and had alife.All this time I thought he was a loner. And that that was what was in store for me too, if my efforts to change failed.’
‘I have a feeling you’ll find the odd picture once we pack up the house. But I can’t for my life tell you where I would have hidden them,’ Mum offers.
Sophia continues. ‘I think Edith brought out his love of people. When she didn’t turn up he went back into isolation. They both did.’
‘I made the wrong choice. Obviously I could not be trusted to make choices, so I didn’t. I focused on Blade and that was that. Trying to survive the heartbreak,’ Mum says.
Everyone falls silent.
‘What are you thinking about, Soph?’
‘I’m thinking that if this didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have met. Perhaps I would have been isolated too.’
‘One more question, Mum. Why didn’t you answer the phone?’ I ask, ready to wrap this up and move on.
‘I think it’s simple.’
‘Go on.’
‘I didn’t want anyone telling me what I already knew. That it was too late. And it was all my fault.’
It’s Sophia’s idea. At first, I tell her it’s impossible. Then Mum overhears us and gets involved. Once that happens there’s no return.
‘I’ve always wanted to move to Sweden. I planned it all those years ago and wouldn’t it be fabulous if it happened?’
‘I’m not sure moving would be wise. It can increase symptoms and speed up onset and progression,’ I argue.
‘There is a time to listen to prognosis and the world of science and then there’s a time to take a leap and listen to your heart,’ Mum insists. Can’t argue much with that.
Sophia is fully on board. It warms me seeing how she’d rather fight to have my mum move with us than take the easy way out and leave her in a care home we’d visit once a month. She never suggested that I move to Sweden—she suggested we both do.
‘I’m very sure she’s not a vegetable plant, but even if she is and didn’t like having her roots disturbed, I have experience with moving even the trickiest plants. Transplantation is never fully impossible under the right conditions,’ she insists.
‘In this particular instance I’d like to argue that my mum is not a flower, nor is she a bulb,’ Blade says, smiling.
‘We will all turn to soil and grass and plants in the end,’ Mum chips in helpfully.
‘I’m never going to win with you two, am I? Ever.’
‘Quite possibly, no,’ Mum says at exactly the same time that Sophia says, ‘No.’
‘Miss Marigold belongs in that shop. Well, at least in the town,’ she adds.
