Maria scanned the menu: ‘Homemade Artichoke and Pancetta Soup’, ‘Tagliatelle with a Prawn Gorgonzola Sauce’, ‘Homemade Lemon Meringue Pie’. ‘It all sounds delicious,’ she said, stomach rumbling at the thought.
‘Well, whatever you want, it’s on me,’ Keith said, leading her to a table. ‘I wouldn’t have this job without you, Maria.’
That sentence jolted her, ready to protest, to downplay her part. Yet she couldn’t help but be suffused by a good feeling: she had contributed a meaningful change in Keith’s life. ‘You did this for yourself,’ she said, knowing that was absolutely true.
Keith handed her a knife and fork wrapped in a napkin. ‘Without Albie and you, though, I’d still be in that doorway, wasting my life away.’ For a second emotion crossed over his face, his brown eyes filming over. He coughed and looked back at the kitchen. ‘Well, I better get on, don’t want to get fired. Enjoy your food.’ He gave her shoulder a last squeeze.
Maria nodded, not quite trusting herself to reply. His words had triggered something inside her, strengthened her resolve: she would keep Albie’s list alive by making it her own, the good that could come out of it growing, touching lives in ways she hadn’t even begun to imagine.
She had the tagliatelle, the sauce creamy, the enormous pink prawns coated in cheese. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten something so delicious.
‘Genius, isn’t he?’ Pauline said, scooting opposite her for a moment, ‘I am so pleased we found him, and he’s such a gent, the kitchen staff love him…’
Maria dabbed at the side of her mouth, ‘Albie was always complimentary: he saw something that others just walked past.’ For a second she felt a familiar wash of sadness threaten: it had taken Albie’s death to bring Keith into her own life.
At that moment the bell went and Maria was surprised to see Mandy push inside, a zebra-print headband in her curly blonde hair, and glance around the room as if she was expecting someone. When Keith passed by the window of the kitchen, Maria saw her lick her lips, pat at her hair.
‘Maria,’ she gushed, spotting her.
Mandy took a seat, not quite meeting Maria’s eye but seeming focused on the door to the kitchen.
‘Are you alright?’ Maria asked, frowning at Mandy’s jittery behaviour.
‘Fine,’ she mumbled, then came to, looking at Maria. ‘Sorry, yes, fine, thanks. You look nice. Nina and I wondered where you’d got to. She wanted to update you about her latest find – seems that coin might be Roman after all, she might be invited to speak at some conference…’
‘How wonderful,’ Maria replied, feeling another flood of warmth that others had also noticed her absence. How foolish she’d been to cancel her appointments, to shut herself away.
Mandy ordered a coffee, and when it came nursed it for the longest time. Maria glanced at the clock above the counter, wondering why she seemed so jumpy.
‘Any more dates with Harry Potter enthusiasts – or in general?’ Maria asked, waiting for Mandy’s latest woeful tale from the Brighton dating scene.
‘Oh!’ Mandy said, sitting up and patting her hair again. Keith was standing in the window of the kitchen. ‘No,’ she mumbled distractedly, ‘no one on the scene right now… I’m… taking a break from online, like a detox.’
Maria had never known Mandy to halt her search for a partner. ‘That sounds…’ She wasn’t sure what it sounded like, confused until Keith was standing next to their table and Mandy’s expression was different, lips parted, eyes wide. Ah! Maria thought.
‘You alright, Mandy?’ Keith asked, arms crossed, flour streaked on his forearms.
Mandy straightened in her chair. ‘Well, thanks, thanks for asking,’ she gushed, a sparkle entering her eyes.
Maria chuckled inside, recognising that reaction: it was the way she had looked when Albie had talked to her. She remembered that feeling: giddy, as if there was only him in the room, in the whole world really.
‘I need to get back in and see you for the mop,’ Keith said, swiping one hand through his hair that was a little longer around the ears. Speckles of white dust settled from his fingers.
Mandy tinkled, a high laugh Maria hadn’t heard before. ‘You do that. Anytime.’
‘In the meantime, I’m about to take my break,’ Keith said, reaching to undo his apron.
Mandy’s eyes opened a little wider. ‘Oh really? Is it your break now?’
‘Same every day.’ He grinned at her.
Mandy started to blush to the roots of her hair.
‘Want a walk or something? I could do with stretching my legs.’ He folded up his apron in his hands, waiting for her response.
Mandy stared up. ‘Great, yes, why not?’
Keith turned and popped his apron under the counter, ‘Great. Maria? Care to join us?’
Mandy stared at her hard and Maria swallowed down a laugh. ‘No, I’m alright, thank you. I, um… I have plans.’
Mandy’s shoulders dropped a fraction, a clear relief that she had him to herself.
‘You two enjoy yourselves,’ Maria added with a smile, as Mandy stood up expectantly.
‘We will,’ Keith said. ‘You take care, Maria. Come back soon, alright?’
‘I will.’ Maria enjoyed watching Keith steer Mandy out of the café with a light hand on her back.
Pauline moved across, clearing Maria’s plate away. ‘Love is in the air, eh? She’s been in here almost every day.’
Maria looked up at her and let out the giggle she’d been holding in. ‘They’ll be no escape for him.’
Maria was still laughing to herself as she walked back home, full of pasta and coffee and walnut cake. Keith had seemed like a different person, or perhaps the old Keith, the real Keith: confident, friendly, teasing. She could see Mandy and him together. Mandy had always been bright and positive, caring and thoughtful: he could do a lot worse. The sun warmed her back as she moved back down the street, her mobile now crammed with her friends’ phone numbers, ways of connecting with people.
She headed to the lake, wanting to enjoy the warmth of the day. Timothy had been away on a tour of Scotland and was back, thanking her for the large donation she had made on his behalf to the RNLI, ramping up their games so that her mobile buzzed with his attempts. It was like Scrabble and Timothy was horribly adept at it. He was winning this game by a clear 34 points. She loved their connection in this way: the chance to play, to use her brain, to see herself improve but also to share the odd message in between, Timothy checking in on her, telling her news from Devon, asking her for news from Brighton.
The park was largely deserted, a woman with two young children playing football, a Springer Spaniel trotting by on a lead, a man jogging, earphones in, utterly focused as he passed her. Maria skirted the water’s edge, ripples from a lone swan coursing through the water, the surface glittering. The air smelt of a distant bonfire and freshly cut grass. She headed to the bench she had sat at before, the plaque gleaming from a distance.
Taking a seat, she closed her eyes, tilting her head backwards so that she could feel the sun on her face. As she opened her eyes slowly, a figure was haloed in the beams of light.
‘Rosie,’ she whispered, smiling slowly at the girl standing in front of her.
‘You were lost in another world.’ Rosie laughed, her school skirt rolled up at the waist, her tie loose. ‘Budge up.’ She threw herself down next to Maria, sticking her legs out in front of her. ‘God, I love this weather.’
Maria smiled, closing her eyes again. ‘I know, it’s wonderful.’
‘So,’ Rosie said after a moment, ‘how are you getting on with that list?’
Maria opened one eye. ‘I finished it,’ she admitted.
‘Everything?’ Rosie said, the surprise in her voice.
‘Everything,’ Maria nodded, reflecting over all the things she’d done. ‘It’s done such good, it’s been an amazing thing to witness.’
‘Don’t be so modest: you made it happen,’ Rosie reminded her gently.
&nb
sp; ‘No, Albie did that, I just… I carried it on for him.’
‘So, what was The Ritz like?’ Rosie asked, curiosity in her voice. ‘Fit for the Queen? Everything made of gold?’
‘Oh,’ Maria said, squirming in her seat, ‘I didn’t go. I did—’
‘You did everything on the list for other people, didn’t you? Not yourself?’ Rosie’s voice was stern.
Maria didn’t know how to reply to that: it was the truth.
‘You so haven’t finished the list then,’ Rosie said, nudging her in the ribs.
‘I…’
‘You need to do all of it – even the stuff for you. You know that.’
Maria looked at Rosie, feeling emotion build inside her. ‘It’s not as easy as that,’ she protested, her good mood evaporating fast, replaced by panic as she thought of the bullet points next to her own name. Rosie didn’t understand, she couldn’t.
Rosie stopped her, ‘You just said the list has been good. Right?’
Maria nodded reluctantly. Why was Rosie always so forthright? Always straight to the heart of the matter?
‘So,’ Rosie continued, ‘surely you can trust that Albie might have known what you needed to do.’
Maria felt a lump build in her throat. ‘Maybe, I… I’m not sure I’m ready,’ she admitted, realising as she heard the words aloud that she was still afraid. Finishing the list would make things so… final and she wasn’t sure she could do that. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
Rosie was quiet for a time, watching the lake. A second swan had joined the first and they glided past gracefully, apparently effortlessly – Maria knew that under the water their legs were circling furiously. People made things look so easy, were we all pedalling furiously under the surface to stay afloat?
‘You are ready, you know,’ Rosie said, touching Maria’s arm. ‘And I know you’ll finish it. You will.’ She stood up and paused, Maria shielding her eyes as she stared up at her. ‘I needed to tell you,’ Rosie said, looking out across the water, ‘that I’m going away now, I wanted to say goodbye.’
Maria stood, ‘Leaving?’
‘I’ve got to,’ Rosie said, her voice light. ‘Places to go, you know.’
Maria didn’t want to ask where she was headed.
‘But look, I’ll be thinking about you,’ she said, stepping towards Maria, leaning down to wrap her arms around her, and give her a warm hug. Maria could feel the tickle of her fine hair, her solid grip. She smelt of cherries. Maria blinked back the tears as she stepped back to take a last look at her.
‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,’ Maria said, knowing that without this sparky teenager, she wouldn’t have been able to face some of the things she had done. She had been with her every step of the way.
Rosie paused, head cocked to the side, as if she could read Maria’s thoughts. ‘You’ll be absolutely fine without me, you know.’
Maria straightened, righted the handbag on her shoulder. ‘I know,’ she admitted quietly. ‘But, oh, I’ll miss you.’
‘So, you promise you’ll really finish that list?’ Rosie grinned.
Maria nodded. Two women jogged past, one turning her head as Maria dabbed at her eyes.
‘Good. Look, I’m rubbish at goodbyes,’ Rosie said.
‘Me too.’
And then suddenly that was it.
Rosie turned, waving quickly, not prolonging things. Without warning, she was gone, running around the edge of the lake, away before Maria could say anything else. Maria watched her leave, ponytail bouncing, as she moved to the other side of the water, then the glare of the sun blinded her as Rosie disappeared on the other side.
Maria stood up, remaining still in the same spot for a moment or two longer, thinking over their exchange. It had been a strange few months, she reflected, as she turned to walk away in the opposite direction. But Rosie was right: she would complete her part of Albie’s list, and she would make it her own too. She pulled out her mobile phone, knowing now was the moment. Wanting to complete her first addition to the wish list, she typed a message into her phone, ready to start a new chapter in her life.
I stared for an age at the photograph on the fridge, both of us huddled in enormous winter coats, faces mostly obscured by faux fur-lined hoods. She had a pink nose and the most enormous grin. She had her arms wrapped tightly around me and for a second, I could feel her squeezing me as if she were still here.
Twenty-Nine
Troy had responded to her text and had appeared at her apartment a couple of hours later. She had pottered around, fixing them snacks and drinks, pleased to have him back. Troy seemed to like her lemon drizzle cake, so she had had one baking in the oven, the sweet but tangy scent filling the air. The first lemon drizzle she had made in over thirty-six years: a recipe that reminded her of her own daughter, who had loved it.
He returned almost every day that week, even for an hour or so. Maria started to suspect he was checking in on her as much as choosing to draw. She loved him being there, watching him hunched over the stool, total concentration on his face, the tip of his tongue out as he drew careful lines, selected colours; the gentle scratch on paper, a frustrated sigh. Sometimes the quick balling up of paper that Maria would rescue later, unable to see the mistake.
Today, she had texted him again asking him to come over.
She had been using the Internet lots, getting ideas, losing hours trawling the pages and discovering new things. She was collecting Wikipedia pages, images, YouTube videos: recipes she wanted to show Pauline and tattoo sketches for Troy. She had also turned to it to help add things to Albie’s list, to help get ideas of her own, and she stayed up late concocting plans, before finally falling asleep.
Today would be the first time she would be doing something new and she felt excited as she read the words written out in different coloured ink, her handwriting more rounded than Albie’s above.
• Adopt a cat
She wanted to help an animal and had decided to adopt. When Troy arrived straight after her text and she told him her plan, he agreed to help with her search. She pressed the button on the phone and slowly tapped at it, accessing the website of a local cat rescue centre. Troy peered over her shoulder. It was the saddest website containing thumbnail pictures of homeless cats. After five minutes scrolling down the page Maria wanted to adopt them all.
Troy was staring silently behind her at the tiny pictures. ‘There are so many,’ he commented finally, a tinge of pity in the sentence.
Maria handed him the phone. ‘You choose one.’
Troy took the phone reverentially, his face solemn as she handed him this task.
‘I don’t want a young cat, I want an older cat,’ Maria added firmly as Troy started to scan down the pages. ‘Need to still be here for it.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Troy said quietly, briefly glancing at her.
‘It wouldn’t be fair on a kitten,’ Maria said firmly, ‘I won’t be around forever.’
Troy swallowed, didn’t add anything, just carried on scrolling down. ‘She’s ten years old,’ he pointed out.
‘I want a cat that no one else wants, one that has waited all her life for someone to notice her.’
‘He’s eleven, one ear,’ Troy said, pointing at the thumbnail of a cat.
Maria thought it was the ugliest cat she had ever seen: a ginger cat with a scar on his nose, a bent-down right ear, but his expression as he stared solemnly into the camera moved her. ‘A him…’ She looked again at the photograph, feeling certainty flood through her. ‘Yes, I like him. I’ll call him Albert.’
Troy filled out the necessary forms for her, asking her various questions.
‘Are you away from home a lot?’
‘No.’
‘Do you have regular visitors to the residence?’
‘Just you,’ Maria said happily, noting the tiny smile as he continued to read.
‘Are you a smoker?’
‘No.’
He booked for someone to co
ntact her about a home visit and check. She felt the stirrings of excitement build in her that she would be rescuing a cat and giving it a good home for the last years of its life. That she would always have company too, something to care for and nurture.
Troy left with a promise to see her soon. He still refused to accept another artist’s set to take away, but borrowed some fine liners and a pad, always returning with most of the pages filled. She was in awe of his industry, his creative designs. The bud of an idea had been forming there too – she had added it under his name on the list. She needed to take a trip to Ms Leonard to set it in motion.
Maria felt a fire within her. For the second time since Albie died, she felt her purpose, her future, but with more certainty than ever before. The list had changed her life again and Albie continued to work his magic from the grave.
As she collapsed into bed, her phone beeping and humming with messages from Pauline, Keith and Troy, she felt deeply grateful that Albie had walked across that café on that day to sit with her. She stared at her own name on the list, knowing something had changed, that perhaps she was ready, finally, to tackle what she had been avoiding.
What did I miss the most? It wasn’t the things I expected. It was the noise that was gone: the sound of her moving in the room next door, or singing to her cassettes. It was her head on my shoulder crying over That’s Life! It’s her endless chatter about girls at her school, names I kept forgetting. How I wished I’d listened closer.
Sometimes it was the panic that I can’t remember any details. As if all my memories were suddenly reduced to the photographs and home videos. I was sure I’d eventually forget the exact shade of her brown hair, the name of that boy who’d bullied her in Year 6 – Luke, or was it Thomas? – the way she pronounced ‘carefully’ wrong, the way her face screwed up when I’d given her ‘the talk’.
I wonder which details I made up, re-painted in a new light – the main one perhaps that I’d been a good mother.
Thirty
The Wish List of Albie Young (ARC) Page 24