Page 10 of Things We Never Said
‘Sorry,’ Sean says, leaning in for a peck on the cheek. ‘But I’ve been ever so busy. We’ve got tons of work on at the moment.’
‘Really?’
Sean nods vaguely. ‘Plus, if truth be told, I’ve not been feeling that sociable. You know ...’
‘Of course,’ Maggie says, joining him at the rear of his Astra. ‘Let me help you with that.’
‘I’m nearly done,’ he says. He lifts a final insulated carrier bag from the car and slams the hatch.
When they reach the doorstep, Maggie picks up one of the bags, and as they enter the house she peers inside at the contents. ‘Wow,’ she says, mockingly. ‘It’s a ready-meal bonanza. That’s not like you.’ Within their circle of friends, Sean is famed for his cooking, specifically his authentic Kerala curries.
‘I’m failing to get motivated to cook at the moment,’ Sean says. ‘At least it’s better than sandwiches.’
‘I’m just glad you’re eating,’ Maggie says. ‘You’re looking skinny.’
‘I know.’ Sean shrugs and forces a weak smile. ‘I had to make a new hole in my belt. My trousers kept falling down. But I’m eating better now.’
‘So, how’s it going?’ Maggie asks, lifting the bag onto the kitchen counter.
‘It?’ Sean repeats.
‘I mean, how are you coping?’
Sean shrugs again. ‘I’m OK, I suppose,’ he says, opening the freezer and beginning to stack the newly bought packages. ‘I’ve got lots of work on, like I said. So that’s good.’
‘Yes,’ Maggie says, scanning the room. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Are you looking for something?’
‘Oh no. Just, you know, the box I left.’
‘Catherine’s box?’
Maggie nods and looks into Sean’s eyes. ‘I take it you opened it?’
‘Yes. Did she tell you what was in it?’
Maggie shakes her head. ‘Not really. I’m assuming it was photos. Was it photos?’
‘Yeah,’ Sean says. ‘Yeah, that’s pretty much it.’
‘Do I get to see them?’ Maggie asks. ‘Over a cup of tea, maybe?’
Sean frowns and smiles at the same time. ‘Er, no, Mags. You don’t.’
‘Oh, fair enough,’ she says. ‘Sorry. Am I being insensitive? It’s just without knowing exactly what—’
‘It’s not just photos,’ Sean explains. ‘There are messages, too. On those little Dictaphone tapes. Quite personal. Well, very personal really. I’m supposed to open one a week.’
‘Oh,’ Maggie says. ‘One a week, eh? That’s very organised.’
‘Well, Catherine is ... was ... very organised,’ Sean says, wincing at the pain of having made the is/was mistake yet again. It’s still happening regularly.
‘Yes, yes she was,’ Maggie agrees, reaching for her car keys.
She looks so uncomfortable that Sean suddenly wants to help her out. ‘I alternate between wanting to open them all at once and never wanting to open any of them, to be honest,’ he says, feeling that sharing this intimate detail will in some way ease Maggie’s discomfort. ‘But so far, in the absence of a better idea, I’m just sticking to orders. One a week.’
‘Right,’ Maggie says.
