“OK, but there's no milk. I haven't got around to . . .” Holly felt embarrassed by her lack of care for the house and for herself. There was no way she was letting Sharon look inside that fridge or Sharon would definitely have her committed.
“Ta-da!” Sharon sang, holding up a bag Holly hadn't noticed her carry in. “Don't worry, I took care of that. By the looks of it, you haven't eaten in weeks.”
“Thanks, Sharon.” A lump formed in her throat and tears welled in her eyes. Her friend was being so good to her.
“Hold it! There will be no tears today! Just fun and laughter and general happiness, my dear friend. Now shower, quick!”
Holly felt almost human when she came back downstairs. She was dressed in a blue tracksuit and had allowed her long blond (and brown at the roots) hair to fall down on her shoulders. All the windows downstairs were wide open and the cool breeze rushed through Holly's head. It felt as though it were eliminating all her bad thoughts and fears. She laughed at the possibility of her mother being right after all. Holly snapped out of her trance and gasped as she looked around the house. She couldn't have been any longer than half an hour, but Sharon had tidied and polished, vacuumed and plumped, washed and sprayed air freshener in every room. She followed the noise she could hear to the kitchen, where Sharon was scrubbing the hobs. The counters were gleaming; the silver taps and draining board at the sink area were sparkling.
“Sharon, you absolute angel! I can't believe you did all this! And in such a short space of time!”
“Ha! You were gone for over an hour. I was beginning to think you'd fallen down the plughole.
You would and all, the size of you.” She looked Holly up and down.
An hour? Once again Holly's daydreaming had taken over her mind.
“OK, so I just bought some vegetables and fruit, there's cheese and yogurts in there, and milk of course. I don't know where you keep the pasta and tinned foods so I just put them over there.
Oh, and there's a few microwave dinners in the freezer. That should do you for a while, but by the looks of you it'll last you the year. How much weight have you lost?”
Holly looked down at her body; her tracksuit was sagging at the bum and the waist tie was pulled to its tightest, yet still drooped to her hips. She hadn't noticed the weight loss at all. She was brought back to reality by Sharon's voice again. “There's a few biscuits there to go with your tea. Jammy Dodgers, your favorite.”
That did it. This was all too much for Holly. The Jammy Dodgers were the icing on the cake.
She felt the tears start to run down her face. “Oh, Sharon,” she wailed, “thank you so much.
You've been so good to me and I've been such a horrible, horrible bitch of a friend.” She sat at the table and grabbed Sharon's hand. “I don't know what I'd do without you.” Sharon sat opposite her in silence, allowing her to continue. This is what Holly had been dreading, breaking down in front of people at every possible occasion. But she didn't feel embarrassed. Sharon was just patiently sipping her tea and holding her hand as if it were normal. Eventually the tears stopped falling.
“Thanks.”
“I'm your best friend, Hol. If I don't help you, then who will?” Sharon said, squeezing her hand and giving her an encouraging smile.
“Suppose I should be helping myself.”
“Pah!” Sharon spat, waving her hand dismissively. “Whenever you're ready. Don't mind all those people who say that you should be back to normal in a month or two. Grieving is all part of helping yourself anyway.”
She always said the right things.
“Yeah, well, I've been doing a lot of that anyway. I'm all grieved out.”
“You can't be!” said Sharon, mock disgusted. “And only two months after your husband is cold in his grave.”
“Oh, stop! There'll be plenty of that from people, won't there?”
“Probably, but screw them. There are worse sins in the world than learning to be happy again.”
“Suppose.”
“Promise me you'll eat.”
“Promise.”
“Thanks for coming round, Sharon, I really enjoyed the chat,” Holly said, gratefully hugging her friend, who had taken the day off work to be with her. “I feel a lot better already.”
“You know it's good to be around people, Hol. Friends and family can help you. Well, actually on second thought, maybe not your family,” she joked, “but at least the rest of us can.”
“Oh, I know, I realize that now. I just thought I could handle it on my own–but I can't.”
“Promise me you'll call around. Or at least get out of the house once in a while?”
“Promise.” Holly rolled her eyes. “You're beginning to sound like my mom.”
“Oh, we're all just looking out for you. OK, see you soon,” Sharon said, kissing her on the cheek. “And eat! ” she added, poking her in the ribs.
Holly waved to Sharon as she pulled away in her car. It was nearly dark. They had spent the day laughing and joking about old times, then crying, followed by some more laughing, then more crying again. Sharon gave her perspective, too. Holly hadn't even thought about the fact that Sharon and John had lost their best friend, that her parents had lost their son-in-law and Gerry's parents had lost their only son. She had just been so busy thinking about herself. It had been good being around the living again instead of moping around with the ghosts of her past.
Tomorrow was a new day and she intended to begin it by collecting that envelope.
Four
HOLLY STARTED HER FRIDAY MORNING well by getting up early. However, although she had gone to bed full of optimism and excited about the prospects that lay ahead of her, she was struck afresh by the harsh reality of how difficult every moment would be. Once again she awoke to a silent house in an empty bed, but there was one small breakthrough. For the first time in over two months, she had woken up without the aid of a telephone call. She adjusted her mind, as she did every morning, to the fact that the dreams of Gerry and her being together that had lived in her mind for the past ten hours were just that–dreams.
She showered and dressed comfortably in her favorite blue jeans, trainers and a baby pink T-shirt. Sharon had been right about her weight, her once tight jeans were just about staying up with the aid of a belt. She made a face at her reflection in the mirror. She looked ugly. She had black circles under her eyes, her lips were chapped and chewed on and her hair was a disaster.
First thing to do was to go down to her local hairdresser's and pray they could squeeze her in.
“Jaysus, Holly!” her hairdresser Leo exclaimed. “Would ya look at the state of ya! People make way! Make way! I have a woman here in a critical condition!” He winked at her and proceeded to push people from his path. He pulled out the chair for her and pushed her into it.
“Thanks, Leo. I feel really attractive now,” Holly muttered, trying to hide her beetroot-colored face.
“Well don't, 'cos you're in bits. Sandra, mix me up the usual; Colin, get the foil; Tania, get me my little bag of tricks from upstairs, oh and tell Paul not to bother getting his lunch, he's doing my twelve o'clock.” Leo ordered everyone around, his hands flailing wildly as though he were about to perform emergency surgery. Perhaps he was.
“Oh sorry, Leo, I didn't mean to mess up your day.”
“Of course you did, love, why else would you come rushing in here at lunchtime on a Friday without an appointment. To help world peace?”
Holly guiltily bit her lip.
“Ah, but I wouldn't do it for anyone else but you, love.”
“Thanks.”
“How have you been?” He rested his skinny little behind on the counter facing Holly. Leo must have been fifty years old, yet his skin was so flawless and his hair, of course, so perfect that he didn't look a day over thirty-five. His honey-colored hair matched his honey-colored skin, and he always dressed perfectly. He was enough to make a woman feel like crap.
Читать дальше
Конец ознакомительного отрывка
Купить книгу