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GIRLS AND THE CITY” A HIT IN THE RATINGS by Tracey Coleman

One

HOLLY HELD THE BLUE COTTON sweater to her face and the familiar smell immediately struck her, an overwhelming grief knotting her stomach and pulling at her heart. Pins and needles ran up the back of her neck and a lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Panic took over. Apart from the low hum of the fridge and the occasional moaning of the pipes, the house was quiet. She was alone. Bile rose to her throat and she ran to the bathroom, where she collapsed to her knees before the toilet.

Gerry was gone and he would never be back. That was the reality. She would never again run her fingers through his soft hair, never share a secret joke across the table at a dinner party, never cry to him when she got home from a hard day at work and just needed a hug; she would never share a bed with him again, never be woken up by his fits of sneezes each morning, never laugh with him so much her stomach would ache, never fight with him about whose turn it was to get up and turn the bedroom light off. All that was left was a bundle of memories and an image of his face that became more and more vague each day.

Their plan had been very simple. To stay together for the rest of their lives. A plan that anyone within their circle would agree was accomplishable. They were best friends, lovers and soul mates destined to be together, everyone thought. But as it happened, one day destiny greedily changed its mind.

The end had come all too soon. After complaining of a migraine for a few days, Gerry had agreed to Holly’s suggestion that he see his doctor. This was done one Wednesday on a lunch break from work. The doctor thought it was due to stress or tiredness and agreed that at the very worst he might need glasses. Gerry hadn’t been happy with that. He had been upset about the idea he might need glasses. He needn’t have worried, since as it turned out it wasn’t his eyes that were the problem. It was the tumor growing inside his brain.

 

Holly flushed the toilet, and shivering from the coldness of the tiled floor, she shakily steadied herself to her feet. He had been thirty years old. By no means had he been the healthiest man on the earth, but he’d been healthy enough to . . . well, to live a normal life. When he was very sick he would bravely joke about how he shouldn’t have lived life so safely. Should have taken drugs, should have drunk more, should have traveled more, should have jumped out of airplanes while waxing his legs . . . his list went on. Even as he laughed about it Holly could see the regret in his eyes. Regret for the things he never made time to do, the places he never saw, and sorrow for the loss of future experiences. Did he regret the life he’d had with her? Holly never doubted that he loved her, but feared he felt he had wasted precious time.

Growing older became something he wanted desperately to accomplish, rather than merely a dreaded inevitability. How presumptuous they both had been never to consider growing old as an achievement and a challenge. Aging was something they’d both wanted so much to avoid.



Holly drifted from room to room while she sobbed her fat, salty tears. Her eyes were red and sore and there seemed to be no end to this night. None of the rooms in the house provided her with any solace. Just unwelcoming silences as she stared around at the furniture. She longed for the couch to hold out its arms to her, but even it ignored her.

Gerry would not be happy with this, she thought. She took a deep breath, dried her eyes and tried to shake some sense into herself. No, Gerry would not be pleased at all.

 

Just as she had every other night for the past few weeks, Holly fell into a fitful sleep in the early hours of the morning. Each day she found herself sprawled uncomfortably across some piece of furniture; today it was the couch. Once again it was the phone call from a concerned friend or family member that woke her up. They probably thought that all she did was sleep. Where were their phone calls when she listlessly roamed the house like a zombie searching the rooms for . . . for what? What was she expecting to find?

“Hello,” she groggily answered. Her voice was hoarse from all the tears, but she had long since stopped caring about maintaining a brave face for anyone. Her best friend was gone and nobody understood that no amount of makeup, fresh air or shopping was going to fill the hole in her heart.

“Oh sorry, love, did I wake you?” the concerned voice of Holly’s mother came across the line. Always the same conversation. Every morning her mother called to see if she had survived the night alone. Always afraid of waking her yet always relieved to hear her breathing; safe with the knowledge her daughter had braved the ghosts of the night.

“No, I was just dozing, it’s OK.” Always the same answer.

“Your dad and Declan have gone out and I was thinking of you, pet.” Why did that soothing, sympathetic voice always send tears to Holly’s eyes? She could picture her mother’s concerned face, eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkled with worry. But it didn’t soothe Holly. It made her remember why they were worried and that they shouldn’t have to be. Everything should be normal. Gerry should be here beside her, rolling his eyes up to heaven and trying to make her laugh while her mother yapped on. So many times Holly would have to hand the phone over to Gerry, as her fit of giggles would take over. Then he would chat away, ignoring Holly as she jumped around the bed pulling her silliest faces and doing her funniest dances just to get him back. It seldom worked.

She “ummed” and “ahhed” throughout the conversation, listening but not hearing a word.

“It’s a lovely day, Holly. It would do you the world of good to go out for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

“Um, I suppose.” There it was again, fresh air—the alleged answer to all her problems.

“Maybe I’ll call around later and we can have a chat.”

“No thanks, Mum, I’m OK.”

Silence.

“Well, all right then . . . give me a ring if you change your mind. I’m free all day.”

“OK.”

Another silence.

“Thanks, though.”

“Right then . . . take care, love.”

“I will.” Holly was about to replace the phone when she heard her mother’s voice again.

“Oh Holly, I almost forgot. That envelope is still here for you, you know, the one I told you about. It’s on the kitchen table. You might want to collect it, it’s been here for weeks now and it might be important.”

“I doubt it. It’s probably just another card.”

“No, I don’t think it is, love. It’s addressed to you and above your name it says . . . oh, hold on while I get it from the table . . .” The phone was put down, the sound of heels on the tiles toward the table, chairs screeched against the floor, footsteps getting louder, phone being picked up . . .

“You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, it says at the top ‘The List.’ I’m not sure what that means, love. It’s worth just taking a . . .”

Holly dropped the phone.

Two

“GERRY, TURN OFF THE LIGHT!” Holly giggled as she watched her husband undress before her. He danced around the room performing a striptease, slowly unbuttoning his white cotton shirt with his long slender fingers. He raised his left eyebrow toward Holly and allowed the shirt to slide from his shoulders, caught it in his right hand and swung it around over his head.

Holly giggled again.

“Turn off the light? What, and miss all this?” he grinned cheekily while flexing his muscles. He wasn’t a vain man but had much to be vain about, thought Holly. His body was strong and perfectly toned. His long legs were muscular from hours spent working out in the gym. He wasn’t a very tall man, but he was tall enough to make Holly feel safe when he stood protectively beside her five-foot-five body. Most of all she loved that when she hugged him her head would rest neatly just below his chin, where she could feel his breath lightly blowing her hair and tickling her head.

Her heart leapt as he lowered his boxers, caught them on the tips of his toes and flung them at Holly, where they landed on her head.

“Well, at least it’s darker under here anyway,” she laughed. He always managed to make her laugh. When she came home tired and angry after work he was always sympathetic and listened to her complain. They seldom fought, and when they did it was over stupid things that made them laugh afterward, like who had left the porch light on all day or who had forgotten to set the alarm at night.

Gerry finished his striptease and dived into the bed. He snuggled up beside her, tucking his freezing cold feet underneath her legs to warm himself up.

“Aaaagh! Gerry, your feet are like ice cubes!” Holly knew that this position meant he had no intention of budging an inch. “Gerry,” Holly’s voice warned.

“Holly,” he mimicked.

“Didn’t you forget something?”

“No, not that I remember,” he answered cheekily.

“The light?”

“Ah yes, the light,” he said sleepily and pretended to snore loudly.

“Gerry!”

“I had to get out of bed and do it last night as I remember.”

“Yeah, but you were just standing right beside the switch a second ago!”

“Yes . . . just a second ago,” he repeated sleepily.

Holly sighed. She hated having to get back out of bed when she was nice and snug, step onto the cold wooden floor and then fumble around in the darkness on the way back to the bed. She tutted.

“I can’t do it all the time you know, Hol. Someday I might not be here and then what will you do?”

“Get my new husband to do it,” Holly huffed, trying her best to kick his cold feet away from hers.

“Ha!”

“Or just remember to do it myself before I get into bed.”

Gerry snorted. “Fat chance of that happening, my dear. I’ll have to leave a message on the light switch for you before I go just so you’ll remember.”

“How thoughtful of you, but I would rather you just leave me your money.”

“And a note on the central heating,” he continued on.

“Ha-ha.”

“And on the milk carton.”

“You’re a very funny man, Gerry.”

“Oh, and on the windows so you don’t open them and set the alarm off in the mornings.”

“Hey, why don’t you just leave me a list in your will of things for me to do if you think I’ll be so incompetent without you?”

“Not a bad idea,” he laughed.

“Fine then, I’ll turn off the bloody light.” Holly grudgingly got out of bed, grimaced as she stepped onto the ice-cold floor and switched off the light. She held out her arms in the darkness and slowly began to find her way back to the bed.

“Hello?!!! Holly, did you get lost? Is there anybody out there, there, there, there?” Gerry shouted out to the black room.

“Yes, I’m hhhhowwwwwwcch!” she yelped as she stubbed her toe against the bedpost. “Shit, shit, shit, fuck, bastard, shit, crap!”

Gerry snorted and sniggered underneath the duvet. “Number two on my list: Watch out for bedpost . . .”

“Oh, shut up, Gerry, and stop being so morbid,” Holly snapped back at him, cradling her poor foot in her hand.

“Want me to kiss it better?” he asked.

“No, it’s OK,” Holly replied sadly. “If I could just put them here so I can warm . . .”

“Aaaaah! Jesus Christ, they’re freezing!!”

“Hee-hee-hee,” she had laughed.

 

So that was how the joke about the list had come about. It was a silly and simple idea that was soon shared with their closest friends, Sharon and John McCarthy. It was John who had approached Holly in the school corridor when they were just fourteen and muttered the famous words, “Me mate wants to know if you’ll go out with him.” After days of endless discussion and emergency meetings with her friends, Holly eventually agreed. “Aah, go on, Holly,” Sharon had urged, “he’s such a ride, and at least he doesn’t have spots all over his face like John.”

How Holly envied Sharon right now. Sharon and John had married the same year as Holly and Gerry. Holly was the baby of the bunch at twenty-three, the rest were twenty-four. Some said she was too young and lectured her about how, at her age, she should be traveling the world and enjoying herself. Instead, Gerry and Holly traveled the world together. It made far more sense that way because when they weren’t, well, together, Holly just felt like she was missing a vital organ from her body.

Her wedding day was far from being the best day of her life. She had dreamed of the fairy-tale wedding like most little girls, with a princess dress and beautiful, sunny weather, in a romantic location surrounded by all who were near and dear to her. She imagined the reception would be the best night of her life, pictured herself dancing with all of her friends, being admired by everyone and feeling special. The reality was quite different.

She woke up in her family home to screams of “I can’t find my tie!” (her father) or “My hair looks shite” (her mother), and the best one of all: “I look like a bloody whale! There’s no way I’m goin’ to this bleedin’ weddin’ looking like this. I’ll be scarlet! Mum, look at the state of me! Holly can find another bridesmaid ’cos I’m not bleedin’ goin’. Oi! Jack, give me back that feckin’ hair dryer, I’m not finished!!” (That unforgettable statement was made by her younger sister, Ciara, who on a very regular basis threw tantrums and refused to leave the house, claiming she had nothing to wear, regardless of her bursting wardrobe. She was currently living somewhere in Australia with strangers, and the only communication the family had with her was an e-mail every few weeks.) Holly’s family spent the rest of the morning trying to convince Ciara how she was the most beautiful woman in the world. All the while Holly silently dressed herself, feeling like shite. Ciara eventually agreed to leave the house when Holly’s typically calm dad screamed at the top of his voice to everyone’s amazement, “Ciara, this is Holly’s bloody day, not yours! And you will go to the wedding and enjoy yourself, and when Holly walks downstairs you will tell her how beautiful she looks, and I don’t wanna hear a peep out of you for the rest of the day!

So when Holly walked downstairs everyone oohed and aahed while Ciara, appearing like a ten-year-old who had just been spanked, tearily looked at her with a trembling lip and said, “You look beautiful, Holly.” All seven of them squashed into the limo, Holly, her parents, her three brothers and Ciara, and sat in terrified silence all the way to the church.

The whole day seemed to be a blur to her now. She had barely had time to speak to Gerry, as they were both being pulled in opposite directions to meet Great-aunt Betty from the back arse of nowhere, whom she hadn’t seen since she was born, and Grand-uncle Toby from America, who had never been mentioned before but was suddenly a very important member of the family.

And nobody told her it would be so tiring, either. By the end of the night Holly’s cheeks were sore from smiling for photographs and her feet were killing her from running around all day in very silly little shoes not designed for walking. She desperately wanted to join the large table of her friends, who had been howling with laughter all night, obviously enjoying themselves. Well for some, she had thought. But as soon as Holly stepped into the honeymoon suite with Gerry, her worries of the day faded and the point of it all became clear.

Tears once again rolled down Holly’s face and she realized she had been daydreaming again. She sat frozen on the couch with the phone still off the hook beside her. The time just seemed to pass her by these days without her knowing what time or even what day it was. She seemed to be living outside of her body, numb to everything but the pain in her heart, in her bones, in her head. She was just so tired . . . Her stomach grumbled and she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Had it been yesterday?

She shuffled into the kitchen wearing Gerry’s dressing gown and her favorite pink “Disco Diva” slippers, which Gerry had bought her the previous Christmas. She was his Disco Diva, he used to say. Always the first on the dance floor, always the last out of the club. Huh, where was that girl now? She opened the fridge and stared in at the empty shelves. Just vegetables and yogurt long past its sell-by date leaving a horrible stench in the fridge. There was nothing to eat. She smiled weakly as she shook the milk carton. Empty. Third on his list . . .

 

Christmas two years ago Holly had gone shopping with Sharon for a dress for the annual ball they attended at the Burlington Hotel. Shopping with Sharon was always a dangerous outing, and John and Gerry had joked about how they would once again suffer through Christmas without any presents as a result of the girls’ shopping sprees. But they weren’t far wrong. Poor neglected husbands, the girls always called them.

That Christmas Holly had spent a disgraceful amount of money in Brown Thomas on the most beautiful white dress she had ever seen. “Shit, Sharon, this will burn a huge hole in my pocket,” Holly guiltily said, biting her lip and running her fingers over the soft material.

“Aah, don’t worry, Gerry can stitch it up for you,” Sharon replied, followed by her infamous cackle. “And stop calling me ‘shit Sharon,’ by the way. Every time we go shopping you address me as that. If you’re not careful I might start taking offense. Buy the damn thing, Holly. It’s Christmas after all, the season of giving and all that.”

“God, you are so evil, Sharon. I’m never shopping with you again. This is like, half my month’s wages. What am I going to do for the rest of the month?”

“Holly, would you rather eat or look fab?” Was it even worth thinking about?

“I’ll take it,” Holly said excitedly to the sales assistant.

The dress was cut low, which showed off Holly’s neat little chest perfectly, and it was split to the thigh, displaying her slim legs. Gerry hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. It wasn’t because she looked so beautiful, however. He just couldn’t understand how on earth that little slip of material had cost so much. Once at the ball, Ms. Disco Diva overindulged in the alcoholic beverages and succeeded in destroying her dress by spilling red wine down her front. Holly tried but failed to hold back her tears while the men at the table drunkenly informed their partners that number fifty-four on the list prevented you from drinking red wine while wearing an expensive white dress. It was then decided that milk was the preferred beverage, as it wouldn’t be visible if spilled on expensive white dresses.

Later, when Gerry knocked his pint over, causing it to dribble off the edge of the table onto Holly’s lap, she tearily yet seriously announced to the table (and some of the surrounding tables), “Rule fitty-fife ov the list: neffer effer buy a ’spensive white dress.” And so it was agreed, and Sharon awoke from her coma from somewhere underneath the table to applaud and offer moral support. A toast was made (after the startled waiter had delivered the tray full of glasses of milk) to Holly and to her profound addition to the list. “I’m sorry ’bout your ’spensive white dress, Holly,” John had hiccuped before falling out of the taxi and dragging Sharon alongside him to their house.

 

Was it possible that Gerry had kept his word and written a list for her before he died? She had spent every minute of every day with him up until his death, and he had never mentioned it, nor had she noticed any signs of him writing one. No, Holly, pull yourself together and don’t be stupid. She so desperately wanted him back that she was imagining all kinds of crazy things. He wouldn’t have. Would he?

Three

HOLLY WAS WALKING THROUGH AN entire field of pretty tiger lilies; the wind was blowing gently, causing the silky petals to tickle the tips of her fingers as she pushed through the long strands of bright green grass. The ground felt soft and bouncy beneath her bare feet, and her body felt so light she almost seemed to be floating just above the surface of the spongy earth. All around her birds whistled their happy tune as they went about their business. The sun was so bright in the cloudless sky she had to shield her eyes, and with each brush of wind that passed her face, the sweet scent of the tiger lilies filled her nostrils. She felt so . . . happy, so free. A feeling that was alien to her these days.

Suddenly the sky darkened as her Caribbean sun disappeared behind a looming gray cloud. The wind picked up and the air chilled. Around her all the petals of her tiger lilies were racing through the air wildly, blurring her vision. The once spongy ground was replaced with sharp-pebbled stones that cut and scraped her feet with every step. The birds had stopped singing and instead perched on their branches and stared. Something was wrong and she felt afraid. Ahead of her in the distance a gray stone was visible amid the tall grass. She wanted to run back to her pretty flowers, but she needed to find out what was ahead.

As she crept closer she heard Bang! Bang! Bang! She quickened her pace and raced over the sharp stones and jagged-edged grass that tore at her arms and legs. She collapsed to her knees in front of the gray slab and let out a scream of pain as she realized what it was. Gerry’s grave. Bang! Bang! Bang! He was trying to get out! He was calling her name; she could hear him!

Holly jumped from her sleep to a loud banging on the door. “Holly! Holly! I know you’re there! Please let me in!” Bang! Bang! Bang! Confused and half asleep, Holly made her way to the door to find a frantic-looking Sharon.

“Christ! What were you doing? I’ve been banging on the door for ages!” Holly looked around outside, still not fully alert. It was bright and slightly chilly, must be morning.

“Well, aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Yeah, Sharon, sorry, I was just dozing on the couch.”

“God, you look terrible, Hol.” Sharon studied her face before giving her a big hug.

“Wow, thanks.” Holly rolled her eyes and turned to shut the door. Sharon was never one to beat around the bush, but that’s why she loved her so much, for her honesty. That’s also why Holly hadn’t been around to see Sharon for the past month. She didn’t want to hear the truth. She didn’t want to hear that she had to get on with her life; she just wanted . . . oh, she didn’t know what she wanted. She was happy being miserable. It somehow felt right.

“God, it’s so stuffy in here, when’s the last time you opened a window?” Sharon marched around the house opening windows and picking up empty cups and plates. She brought them into the kitchen, where she placed them in the dishwasher and then proceeded to tidy up.

“Oh, you don’t have to do it, Sharon,” Holly protested weakly. “I’ll do it . . .”

“When? Next year? I don’t want you slumming it while the rest of us pretend not to notice. Why don’t you go upstairs and shower and we’ll have a cup of tea when you come down.”

A shower. When was the last time she had even washed? Sharon was right, she must have looked disgusting with her greasy hair and dark roots and dirty robe. Gerry’s robe. But that was something she never intended to wash. She wanted it exactly as Gerry had left it. Unfortunately, his smell was beginning to fade, replaced by the unmistakable stink of her own skin.

“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.

“Terrible.”

“Yeah, you look it.”

“Thanks.”

“Ah well, at least by the time you walk out of here you’ll have one thing sorted. I do hair, not hearts.”

Holly smiled gratefully at his odd little way of showing he understood.

“But Jaysus, Holly, when you were coming in the front door did you see the word ‘magician’ or ‘hairdresser’ on the front of the salon? You should have seen the state of the woman who came in here today. Mutton dressed as lamb. Not far off sixty, I’d say. Handed me a magazine with Jennifer Aniston on the cover.

“ ‘I want to look like that,’ she says.”

Holly laughed at his impression. He had the facial expression and the hand movements all going at the same time.

“ ‘Jaysus,’ I says, ‘I’m a hairdresser not a plastic surgeon. The only way you’ll look like that is if you cut out the picture and staple it to your head.’ ”

“No! Leo, you didn’t tell her that!” Holly’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“Of course I did! The woman needed to be told, sure wasn’t I helping her? Swanning in here dressed like a teenager. The state of her!”

“But what did she say!” Holly wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. She hadn’t laughed like that for months.

“I flicked the pages of the mag for her and came across a lovely picture of Joan Collins. Told her it was right up her street. She seemed happy enough with that.”

“Leo, she was probably too terrified to tell you she hated it!”

“Ah, who cares, I have enough friends.”

“Don’t know why,” Holly laughed.

“Don’t move,” Leo ordered. Suddenly Leo had become awfully serious, and his lips were pursed together in concentration as he separated Holly’s hair to get it ready for coloring. That was enough to send Holly into stitches again.

“Ah, come on, Holly,” Leo said with exasperation.

“I can’t help it, Leo, you got me started and now I can’t stop!” Leo stopped what he was doing and watched her with amusement.

“I always thought you were for the madhouse. No one ever listens to me.”

She laughed even harder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Leo. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just can’t stop laughing.” Holly’s stomach ached from laughing so hard, and she was aware of all the curious glances she was attracting but she just couldn’t help it. It was as if all the missed laughs from the past couple of months were tumbling out at once.

Leo stopped working and made his way back round to the mirror, where he propped himself back on the counter and watched her. “You don’t need to apologize, Holly, laugh all you like, you know they say laughing is good for the heart.”

“Oh, I haven’t laughed like this for ages,” she giggled.

“Well, you haven’t had much to laugh about, I suppose,” he smiled sadly. Leo loved Gerry, too. They had teased each other whenever they met, but they both knew it was all in fun and were very fond of each other. Leo snapped himself out of his thoughts, tousled Holly’s hair playfully and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “But you’ll be all right, Holly Kennedy,” he assured her.

“Thanks, Leo,” she said, calming herself down, touched by his concern. He went back to work on her hair, putting on his funny little concentrating face. Holly giggled again.

“Oh, you laugh now, Holly, but wait till I accidentally give you a stripy head of color. We’ll see who’s laughing then.”

“How’s Jamie?” Holly asked, keen to change the subject before she embarrassed herself again.

“He dumped me,” Leo said, pushing aggressively with his foot on the chair’s pump, sending Holly higher into the air but causing her to jerk wildly in her chair.

“O-oh Le-eo, I-I-I-m soooo sor-reeee. Yo-ooou twooo we-eerree soooo gree-aat togeeeeth-eeer.”

He stopped pumping and paused. “Yeah, well, we’re not so gree-aat together now, missy. I think he’s seeing someone else. Right. I’m going to put two shades of blond in; a golden color and the blond you had before. Otherwise it’ll go that brassy color that’s reserved for prostitutes only.”

“Oh Leo, I’m sorry. If he has any sense at all he’ll realize what he’s missing.”

“He mustn’t have any sense; we split up two months ago and he hasn’t realized it yet. Or else he has and he’s delighted. I’m fed up; I’ve had enough of men. I’m just going to turn straight.”

“Oh Leo, now that’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard . . .”

 

Holly bounced out of the salon with delight. Without Gerry’s presence beside her, a few men looked her way, something that was alien to her and made her feel uncomfortable, so she ran to the safety of her car and prepared herself for her parents’ house. So far today was going well. It had been a good move to visit Leo. Even in his heartbreak he worked hard to make her laugh. Holly took note of it.

She pulled up to the curb outside her parents’ house in Portmarnock and took a deep breath. To her mother’s surprise Holly had called her first thing in the morning to arrange a time to meet up. It was three-thirty now, and Holly sat outside in the car with butterflies in her tummy. Apart from the visits her parents had paid to her over the past two months, Holly had barely spent any proper time with her family. She didn’t want all the attention directed at her; she didn’t want the intrusive questions about how she was feeling and what she was going to do next being fired at her all day. However, it was time to put that fear aside. They were her family.

Her parents’ house was situated directly across the road from Portmarnock beach, the blue flag bearing testament to its cleanliness. She parked the car and stared across the road to the sea. She had lived here from the day she was born till the day she moved out to live with Gerry. She had loved waking up to the sound of the sea lapping against the rocks and the excited call of the seagulls. It was wonderful having the beach as your front garden, especially during the summer. Sharon had lived around the corner, and on the hottest days of the year the girls would venture across the road in their summer’s best and keep an eye out for the best-looking boys. Holly and Sharon were the complete opposite of each other. Sharon with her brown hair, fair skin and huge chest. Holly with her blond hair, sallow skin and small chest. Sharon would be loud, shouting to the boys and calling them over. Holly would just stay quiet and flirt with her eyes, fixing them on her favorite boy and not moving them till he noticed. Holly and Sharon really hadn’t changed all that much since.

She didn’t intend to stay long, just to have a little chat and collect the envelope that she had decided could possibly be from Gerry. She was tired of punishing herself about what could be inside it, so she was determined to end her silent torture of herself. She took a deep breath, rang the doorbell and placed a smile on her face for all to see.

“Hi, love! Come in, come in!” said her mother with the welcoming, loving face that Holly just wanted to kiss every time she saw her.

“Hi, Mum. How are you?” Holly stepped into the house and was comforted by the familiar smell of home. “You on your own?”

“Yes, your father’s out with Declan buying paint for his room.”

“Don’t tell me you and Dad are still paying for everything for him?”

“Well, your father might be, but I’m certainly not. He’s working nights now so at least he has a bit of pocket money these days. Although we don’t see a penny of it being spent on anything for here.” She chuckled and brought Holly to the kitchen, where she put the kettle on.

Declan was Holly’s youngest brother and the baby of the family, so her mum and dad still felt like they had to spoil him. If you could see their “baby”: Declan was a twenty-two-year-old child studying film production at college and constantly had a video camera in his hand.

“What job has he got now?”

Her mother rolled her eyes to heaven. “He’s joined some band. The Orgasmic Fish, I think they call themselves, or something like that. I’m sick to death of hearing about it, Holly. If he goes on one more time about who was there at their gigs promising to sign them up and how famous they’re going to be, I’ll go mad.”

“Ah, poor Deco, don’t worry, he’ll eventually find something.”

“I know, and it’s funny, because of all you darling children, he’s the least I worry about. He’ll find his way.”

They brought their mugs into the sitting room and settled down in front of the television. “You look great, love, I love the hair. Do you think Leo would ever do mine for me, or am I too old for his styles?”

“Well, as long as you don’t want Jennifer Aniston’s hairstyle, you’ll have no problems.” Holly explained the story about the woman in the salon and they both rolled around laughing.

“Well, I don’t want the Joan Collins look, so I’ll just stay clear of him.”

“That might be wise.”

“Any luck with a job yet?” Her mother’s voice was casual but Holly could tell she was just dying to know.

“No, not yet, Mum. To be honest I haven’t even started looking; I don’t quite know what I want to do.”

“You’re right,” her mother nodded. “Take your time and think about what you like, or else you’ll end up rushing into a job you hate, like the last time.” Holly was surprised to hear this. Although her family had always been supportive of her over the years, she found herself moved by the abundance of their love.

The last job Holly had had was working as a secretary for an unforgiving little slimeball in a solicitor’s office. She had been forced to leave her job when the little creep failed to understand that she needed time off work to be with her dying husband. Now she had to go looking for a new one. For a new job, that is. At the moment it seemed unimaginable to go to work in the morning.

Holly and her mother relaxed, falling in and out of conversation for a few hours until Holly finally built up the courage to ask for the envelope.

“Oh, of course, love, I completely forgot about it. I hope it’s nothing important, it’s been there for a long time.”

“I’ll find out soon enough.”

They said their good-byes and Holly couldn’t get out of the house quickly enough.

Perching herself on the grass overlooking the golden sand and sea, Holly ran her hands over the envelope. Her mother hadn’t described it very well, for it was not an envelope at all but a thick brown package. The address had been typed onto a sticker so she couldn’t even guess the origin. And above the address were two words thick and bold—THE LIST.

Her stomach did a little dance. If it wasn’t from Gerry, then Holly had to finally accept the fact that he was gone, gone completely from her life, and she had to start thinking about existing without him. If it was from him she would be faced with the same future but at least she could hold on to a fresh memory. A memory that would have to last her a lifetime.

Her trembling fingers gently tore at the seal of the package. She turned it upside down and shook the contents out. Out fell ten separate tiny little envelopes, the kind you would expect to find on a bouquet of flowers, each with a different month written on them. Her heart missed a few beats as she saw the familiar handwriting on a loose page underneath the pile of envelopes.

It was from Gerry.

Five

HOLLY HELD HER BREATH, AND with tears in her eyes and a pounding heart, she read the familiar handwriting knowing that the person who had sat down to write to her would never be able to do so again. She ran her fingers over his words knowing that the last person to have touched the page was him.

My darling Holly,

I don’t know where you are or when exactly you are reading this. I just hope that my letter has found you safe and healthy. You whispered to me not long ago that you couldn’t go on alone. You can, Holly.

You are strong and brave and you can get through this. We shared some beautiful times together and you made my life . . . you made my life. I have no regrets. But I am just a chapter in your life, there will be many more. Remember our wonderful memories, but please don’t be afraid to make some more.

Thank you for doing me the honor of being my wife. For everything, I am eternally grateful.

Whenever you need me, know that I am with you.

 

Love Forever,

Your husband and best friend,

Gerry

 

PS, I promised a list, so here it is. The following envelopes must be opened exactly when labeled and must be obeyed. And remember, I’m looking out for you, so I will know . . .

Holly broke down, sadness sweeping over her. Yet she felt relief at the same time; relief that Gerry would somehow continue to be with her for another little while. She leafed through the small white envelopes and searched through the months. It was April now. She had missed March, and so she delicately picked out that envelope. She opened it slowly, wanting to savor every moment. Inside was a small card with Gerry’s handwriting on it. It read:

Save yourself the bruises and buy yourself a bedside lamp!

PS, I love you . . .

Her tears turned to laughter as she realized her Gerry was back!

Holly read and reread his letter over and over in an attempt to summon him back to life again. Eventually, when she could no longer see the words through her tears, she looked out to the sea. She had always found the sea so calming, and even as a child she would run across the road to the beach if she was upset and needed to think. Her parents knew that when she went missing from the house they would find her here by the sea.

She closed her eyes and breathed in and out along with the gentle sighing of the waves. It was as though the sea were taking big deep breaths, pulling the water in while it inhaled and pushing it all back up onto the sand as it exhaled. She continued to breathe along with it and felt her pulse rate slow down as she became calmer. She thought about how she used to lie by Gerry’s side during his final days and listen to the sound of his breathing. She had been terrified to leave him to answer the door, to fix him some food or to go to the toilet, just in case that was the time he chose to leave her. When she would return to his bedside she would sit frozen in a terrified silence while she listened for his breathing and watched his chest for any movement.

But he always managed to hang on. He had baffled the doctors with his strength and determination to live; Gerry wasn’t prepared to go without a fight. He kept his good humor right up until the end. He was so weak and his voice so quiet, but Holly had learned to understand his new language as a mother does her babbling child just learning to talk. They would giggle together late into the night, and other nights they would hold each other and cry. Holly remained strong for him throughout, as her new job was to be there for him whenever he needed her. Looking back on it, she knew that she needed him more than he needed her. She needed to be needed so she could feel she wasn’t just idly standing by, utterly helpless.

On the second of February at four o’clock in the morning, Holly held Gerry’s hand tightly and smiled at him encouragingly as he took his last breath and closed his eyes. She didn’t want him to be afraid, and she didn’t want him to feel that she was afraid, because at that moment she wasn’t. She had felt relief, relief that his pain was gone, and relief that she had been there with him to witness the peace of his passing. She felt relieved to have known him, to love him and to be loved by him, and relief that the last thing he saw was her face smiling down on him, encouraging him and assuring him it was OK to let go.

The days after that were a blur to her now. She had occupied herself by making the funeral arrangements and by meeting and greeting his relatives and old school friends that she hadn’t seen for years. She had remained so solid and calm through it all because she felt that she could finally think clearly. She was just thankful that after months his suffering was over. It didn’t occur to her to feel the anger or bitterness that she felt now for the life that had been taken away from her. That feeling didn’t arrive until she went to collect her husband’s death certificate.

And that feeling made a grand appearance.

As she sat in the crowded waiting room of her local health clinic waiting for her number to be called, she wondered why on earth Gerry’s number had been called so early in his life. She sat sandwiched between a young couple and an elderly couple. The picture of what she and Gerry had once been and a glimpse of the future that could have been. And it all just seemed unfair. She felt squashed between the shoulders of her past and her lost future, and she felt suffocated. She realized she shouldn’t have had to be there.

None of her friends had to be there.

None of her family had to be there.

In fact, the majority of the population of the world didn’t have to be in the position she was in right now.

It didn’t seem fair.

Because it just wasn’t fair.

After presenting the official proof of her husband’s death to bank managers and insurance companies, as if the look on her face weren’t enough proof, Holly returned home to her nest and locked herself away from the rest of the world, which contained hundreds of memories of the life she had once had. The life she had been very happy with. So why had she been given another one, and a far worse one at that?

That was two months ago and she hadn’t left the house until today. And what a welcome she had been given, she thought, smiling down at the envelopes. Gerry was back.

 

Holly could hardly contain her excitement as she furiously dialed Sharon’s number with trembling hands. After reaching a few wrong numbers she eventually calmed herself and concentrated on dialing the correct number.

“Sharon!” she squealed as soon as the phone was picked up. “You’ll never guess what! Oh my God, I can’t believe it!”

“Eh no . . . it’s John, but I’ll get her for you now.” A very worried John rushed off to get Sharon.

“What, what, what?” panted a very out-of-breath Sharon. “What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

“Yes I’m fine!” Holly giggled hysterically, not knowing whether to laugh or cry and suddenly forgetting how to structure a sentence.

John watched as Sharon sat down at her kitchen table looking very confused while she tried with all her strength to make sense of the rambling Holly on the other end. It was something about Mrs. Kennedy giving Holly a brown envelope with a bedside lamp in it. It was all very worrying.

Stop!” shouted Sharon, much to Holly and John’s surprise. “I cannot understand a word you are saying, so please,” Sharon spoke very slowly, “slow down, take a deep breath and start from the very beginning, preferably using words from the English language.”

Suddenly she heard quiet sobs from the other end.

“Oh, Sharon,” Holly’s words were quiet and broken, “he wrote me a list. Gerry wrote me a list.”

Sharon froze in her chair while she digested this information.

John watched his wife’s eyes widen and he quickly pulled out a chair and sat next to her and shoved his head toward the telephone so he could hear what was going on.

“OK, Holly, I want you to get over here as quickly but as safely as you can.” She paused again and swatted John’s head away as if he were a fly so she could concentrate on what she had just heard. “This is . . . great news?”

John stood up from the table insulted and began to pace the kitchen floor trying to guess what it could be.

“Oh it is, Sharon,” sobbed Holly. “It really is.”

“OK, make your way over here now and we can talk about it.”

“OK.”

Sharon hung up the phone and sat in silence.

“What? What is it?” demanded John, unable to bear being left out of this obviously serious event.

“Oh sorry, love. Holly’s on the way over. She . . . em . . . she said that, eh . . .”

What? For Christ’s sake?”

“She said that Gerry wrote her a list.”

John stared at her, studied her face and tried to decide if she was serious. Sharon’s worried blue eyes stared back at him and he realized she was. He joined her at the table and they both sat in silence and stared at the wall, lost in thought.

Six

“WOW,” WAS ALL SHARON AND John could say as the three of them sat around the kitchen table in silence staring at the contents of the package that Holly had emptied as evidence. Conversation between them had been minimal for the last few minutes as they all tried to decide how they felt. It went something like this:

“But how did he manage to . . .”

“But why didn’t we notice him . . . well . . . God.”

“When do you think he . . . well, I suppose he was on his own sometimes . . .”

Holly and Sharon just sat looking at each other while John stuttered and stammered his way through trying to figure out just when, where and how his terminally ill friend had managed to carry out this idea all alone without anyone finding out.

“Wow,” he eventually repeated after coming to the conclusion that Gerry had done just that. He had carried it out alone.

“I know,” Holly agreed. “So the two of you had absolutely no idea then?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, Holly, but it’s pretty clear to me that John was the mastermind behind all of this,” Sharon said sarcastically.

“Ha-ha,” John replied dryly. “Well, he kept his word anyway, didn’t he?” John looked to both of the girls with a smile on his face.

“He sure did,” Holly said quietly.

“Are you OK, Holly? I mean, how do you feel about all this, it must be . . . weird,” asked Sharon again, clearly concerned.

“I feel fine.” Holly was thoughtful. “Actually I think it’s the best thing that could have happened right now! It’s funny, though, how amazed we all are considering how much we all went on about this list. I mean, I should have been expecting it.”

“Yeah, but we never expected any of us to ever do it!” said John.

“But why not?” questioned Holly. “This was the whole reason for it in the first place! To be able to help your loved ones after you go.”

“I think Gerry was the only one who took it really seriously.”

“Sharon, Gerry is the only one of us who is gone, who knows how seriously anyone else would have taken it?”

There was a silence.

“Well, let’s study this more closely then,” perked up John, suddenly starting to enjoy himself. “There’s how many envelopes?”

“Em . . . there’s ten,” counted Sharon, joining in with the spirit of their new task.

“OK, so what months are there?” John asked. Holly sorted through the pile.

“There’s March, which is the lamp one I already opened, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November and December.”

“So there’s a message for every month left in the year,” Sharon said slowly, lost in thought. They were all thinking the same thing, Gerry had planned this knowing he wouldn’t live past February. They all took a moment to ponder this, and eventually Holly looked around at her friends with happiness. Whatever Gerry had in store for her was going to be interesting, but he had already succeeded in making her feel almost normal again. While she was laughing with John and Sharon as they guessed what the envelopes contained, it was as though he were still with them.

“Hold on!” John exclaimed very seriously.

“What?”

John’s blue eyes twinkled. “It’s April now and you haven’t opened it yet.”

“Oh, I forgot about that! Oh no, should I do it now?”

“Go on,” encouraged Sharon.

Holly picked up the envelope and slowly began to open it. There were only eight more to open after this and she wanted to treasure every second before it became another memory. She pulled out the little card.

A Disco Diva must always look her best. Go shopping for an outfit, as you’ll need it for next month!

PS, I love you . . .

“Ooooh,” John and Sharon sang with excitement, “he’s getting cryptic!”

Seven

HOLLY LAY ON HER BED like a demented woman, switching the lamp on and off with a smile on her face. She and Sharon had gone shopping in Bed Knobs and Broomsticks in Malahide, and both girls had eventually agreed on the beautifully carved wooden stand and the cream shade, which matched the cream and wooden furnishings of the master bedroom (of course they had chosen the most ridiculously expensive one, it would have been wrong to spoil tradition). And although Gerry hadn’t physically been there with her as she bought it, she felt that they had made the purchase together.

She had drawn the curtains of her bedroom in order to test her new merchandise. The bedside lamp had a softening effect on the room, making it appear warmer. How easily this could have ended their nightly arguments, but perhaps neither of them wanted to end them. It had become a routine, something familiar that made them feel closer. How she would give anything to have one of those little arguments now. And she would gladly get out of her cozy bed for him, she would gladly walk on the cold floor for him, and she would gladly bruise herself on the bedpost while fumbling in the dark for the bed. But that time was gone.

The sound of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” snapped her back to the present as she realized her mobile phone was ringing.

“Hello?”

“G’day, mate, I’m hooooome!” shrieked a familiar voice.

“Oh my God, Ciara! I didn’t know you were coming home!”

“Well, neither did I actually, but I ran out of money and decided to surprise you all!”

“Wow, I bet Mum and Dad were surprised a


Date: 2015-12-17; view: 354


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