Page 34 of One More Day
She doesn’t shy away. I don’t know why I blurted all of that out to her, but it felt strangely OK to do so.
‘Just always do whatever feels right for you and take each day as it comes,’ she whispers to me as another customer enters the shop, gasping in admiration at all its delights, just as I did some minutes ago. ‘There are no rules, nor is there any rush on grief, my love. And just the same, there is no right or wrong time to smile again after we lose someone close. So, never be afraid to smile again, please remember that. If something or someone makes you smile, then mark it down as a very good day.You deserve many more good days, and you will find them. You’ll see.’
Oh God, I think I’m going to break down in front of her just as I feared I might.
I breathe.
‘I like that. I’ll remember your words. Thank you.’
I marvel at how such a small step in a new direction has made me just a little bit stronger, even if my emotions are on edge right now.
I pay her with my card, then I lift the two large paper bags from the counter, glancing to where George waits in the doorway.
‘Happy Christmas,’ she calls after me. ‘And I mean that sincerely. I wish you a happy Christmas.’
‘I’m Rose,’ I say in return, and I open the door to leave with a fuzzy feeling inside of me. ‘Rose Quinn. Happy Christmas to you and your daughter too.’
Her eyes light up as the penny drops.
‘Ah, of course you are,’ she says with a knowing smile. ‘You have your Granny Molly’s impeccable style and her beautiful green eyes. I should have known. It’s so lovely to meet you, Rose Quinn.’
‘And you too, Lorraine. Happy Christmas.’
‘The white chocolate and raspberry scones are just out of the oven. I made a few extra. You’re welcome to try one.’
‘You’re spoiling me, Sean.’
Sean tilts his head to the side, his notepad in hand and his pen in mid-air. The café is buzzing now, in stark contrast to the empty version I visited just a day ago.
‘For purely selfish reasons. I like to see George coming through the door.’
‘Gee thanks. And not me?’
He chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m teasing you, of course. Now, a cinnamon latte like before?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Just like before. My pleasure, my dear,’ he says as he shuffles away, mumbling to himself. ‘I’ll get some water for your gentleman friend. We mustn’t forget about George. Some water and a treat for good old George and a coffee and scone for the lady.’
The place is full up with cold and hungry revellers, and I pull myself together after my unexpected shopping spree, but my phone bleeps to announce a text message just in time to distract me from sinking further into the past.
I’ve left the key under the mat.
It’s Charlie.
I’ve also asked Rusty to get us another key so we don’t have to share. He said it’s the least he can do. He’ll put it in an envelope and drop it through the letterbox later.
Charlie is on top of his game as always, which gives me a surprising sense of ease and comfort, despite his list of rules. I’ve felt so much at sea over the past few years, yet already after just one day back here in my happy place, I’m breathing again.
Thank you, I type in return. I set my phone back on to the table, but it bleeps again.
Got some fresh bread and milk too. Whiteboard is on the fridge for any food-related messages.
I laugh out loud at his sincerity, which is rather sweet, but I can’t resist nudging him just a little when I notice something.
Do you always use full stops at the end of your text messages?I reply, childishly.
