The Memory Dress

Chapter Twenty-One

TWENTY-ONE

I’m sitting on the sofa, wondering if I can possibly summon the courage to knock on Jake’s door and ask if he fancies an early-evening walk or a glass of wine together in the back garden, when the WhatsApp group comes alive.

DAVINA: Problem.

JAYNE: Oh no, what? Did you forget you’re on dinner duty?

DAVINA: No. I dropped it off to Meredith, as arranged. Some lovely roast chicken with all the trimmings. She looked delighted, she said she was starving.

JAYNE: OK, then what?

DAVINA: I just went back to collect my dish and it was still sitting on the side in the kitchen where I left it, untouched.

JAYNE: Do you think she needed help warming it up?

DAVINA: No, I delivered it warm and ready to eat.

JAYNE: So, why hasn’t she eaten it? Was she able to say?

DAVINA: She told me she couldn’t find a plate. I found some eventually, all stacked in the airing cupboard in the hallway, next to the pillowcases and towels, and more milk bottles. Honestly, Jayne, it was heartbreaking.

I slump farther into the sofa, feeling the enormity of the task ahead of us. Olivia is right, none of us is qualified for this. What if we are merely prolonging Meredith’s agony or giving her false hopes?

DAVINA: Don’t get disheartened, we’ve only just started.

OLIVIA: Maybe you could label the kitchen cupboards so she can see at a glance what’s inside?

JAYNE: That could work. But we are giving her lots of extra things to read already. Will she remember to do that?

OLIVIA: We went one step further with Mum and took all the doors off her kitchen cupboards in the end. It saved her so much time each day, not having to root through every one of them until she found what she was looking for. It was all on display for her to see.

JAKE: That’s a great idea. I can arrange for someone to come and do that, and we can store all the doors downstairs in the laundry room.

OLIVIA: While you’re at it, you may need to look at the color of her crockery as you start to understand her food preferences.

JAYNE: Why? What difference does that make?

OLIVIA: Mum found it very difficult to distinguish certain foods if they were on a similar-colored plate. You couldn’t serve her chicken or mashed potatoes on a white plate. The plate would just look empty.

JAYNE: Okay, let’s add that to the list too. Thank you, everyone.

Then Davina messages me privately, out of the group chat.

DAVINA: Fancy that glass of wine now? I could really do with it.

The second I start to descend the stairs toward Davina’s ground-floor apartment, I can hear them arguing. Davina and Willow, driving the volume higher and higher with every insult they hurl at each other, doors repeatedly slamming inside their apartment. I try to turn and retreat back to my own front door, but Davina’s door flies open, and a teary Willow spills out screaming, “I hate you!” as loud as her lungs will allow. I consider trying to stop her but then I see Davina in the doorway and realize she’s the one who needs my help. This row must have been brewing while we were all messaging one another.

Maggie is challenging herself with a five hundred–piece jigsaw puzzle upstairs and I ask Davina not to tell her I’m here, so we might stand some chance of a proper chat.

“What was it this time? Too much homework? Not enough pocket money?” I hazard a guess at the cause of tonight’s friction.

“If only. A much harder one to solve, unfortunately. Not enough of me.” Davina is already emptying most of a bottle of white wine into two large glasses. “The tricky thing is never knowing quite how honest to be with my children. Do I lay it out for her—if I don’t work, you don’t get that laptop—or should I be protecting her from the worry of single-parent finances? I just don’t know, Jayne.”

“Does any parent?”

“Probably not, but I do know it would be a damn sight easier to negotiate if I was sharing the load. If her father were playing his part as I always imagined he would be.”

We each take one of the stools.

“How do I explain to a fourteen-year-old that I just…need some understanding, some appreciation for the things I am getting right, while I work harder at the things I’m not. I know this is difficult for her, but can I burden her with the fact that it’s difficult for me too?”

“I think you’re doing a great job, Davina. She’s a teenager. You’d be arguing regardless, wouldn’t you? Even if there were ten of you here to share the load.” I’m aware I have no direct experience with raising teenagers, but I do remember how fierce the rows could get between Mum and Sally.

“Maybe.” She takes a long, indulgent mouthful of wine and I watch the almost instant effect it has on her.

“Honestly, it’s the loneliness that kills me. It’s partly why I work as hard as I do. When I’m busy, there’s less time to dwell on it.” She lets out a sad laugh. “I’m so absorbed by the never-ending list of jobs, I can forget that I’m in this on my own.”

“Oh, Davina…”

“I know it will get better.” She waves a hand across her face, not wanting to wallow in self-pity. “One day they’ll be grown up and then I’ll be forced to make the changes there aren’t time for now.” She considers expanding on her point, then I see her change her mind and her focus switches back to me. “But what about you, Jayne? What’s your excuse?”

“My excuse for what?” I feel like I am massively missing the point.

“You spend more time alone than I do. You don’t have children to absorb every spare moment of the day and every last drop of your mental energy, every beat of your heart. Unless I am wrong, there’s no partner on the scene. Why is that? What’s your story?”

She is so direct, but it’s done with kindness too. I understand that she wants to get to know me better. She’s not looking for gossip or secrets to trade with neighbors or colleagues.

“That’s a big question.” One I’m not sure I want to fully answer.

“Is it? Only if you think of it that way.” She casually shrugs her shoulders.

I try to give her the top line only, my usual approach, except this time I include Alex.

“I get it. You don’t want to be alone forever, but if you were one of my daughters, I’d tell you to run a mile from this Alex. Maybe he’s not a bad man but he sounds like the wrong man for you.” Another large gulp of wine disappears.

“Thank you! And, yes, I know that now.” I love that Davina seems able to understand something my own mum can’t—or won’t.

“But, Jayne, too much solitude will unravel you eventually. We’re not made to be alone too long, no matter how comfortable you are in your own company. Too much of it makes you vulnerable—too much space to pick yourself apart and you end up overanalyzing life rather than living it. My goodness, if I didn’t have the girls there’s a very long list of things I would beat myself up about night after night. My health, my level of success, where my time is being spent, what my future will look like…Can you see how this amount of self-examination is never going to be helpful?” she says ruefully.

“So how do you decide what to say yes to, when to take the risk, and when to allow yourself the kindness of not facing it? I like helping others, but, as you’ve already said, it’s so much harder to let them help me.”

Davina thinks for a minute, slowly nodding her head.

“I can see that’s exactly what you are doing, and the thing is you’re very good at it, Jayne, it’s your natural state of being. But you can’t be what everyone else needs you to be all the time—believe me, I’ve tried and it’s impossible. You will eventually crack. Maybe you’re starting to already. Why not just agree you’re going to be ten percent braver, say yes to something you may have said no to before. It can be as simple as that to start with.”

“Well, it sounds simple, yes, but…” I don’t want to reel off lots of excuses why I can’t do it, so I delve a little deeper into Davina’s backstory instead. “What happened with you, when you were trying to be what everyone else needed?”

“Oh, Jayne, I used to love the hustle.” Davina smiles deeply as she transports herself back to a time when there was no husband or, hard as it is to imagine, Maggie and Willow in her life. “The feeling of cracking through this life on my wits and my ability to shake every opportunity out of every day. I had such focus and drive, I achieved so much with the time I had. It was the last time I felt genuinely impressive. It’s what got me up in the morning.” I register the faintest quiver of her bottom lip. “But then I had the girls, and after Jonathan left, all that got very diluted. I couldn’t compromise on the children, so I compromised on me, while he moved out and on to a place where he could always put himself first. Imagine the luxury of that!”

I’m not sure I’ve ever imagined it, actually.

“But what you’ve just described looks exactly like what you do now, Davina.” I also allow the cold crisp wine to mellow me, to embolden my counterargument. “Every day you solve problems, for clients, for your children, and now for Meredith. You’re not exactly underachieving, are you? Every time I see you, I think you’re impressive.” I raise my voice, trying to convey how ludicrous the suggestion she is anything less than brilliant really is. “You’ve simply transferred your skills. You apply them differently to the life you now live.”

Davina looks at me, slowly raises her eyebrows like this is the first time the idea has even occurred to her.

“I’m not sure why, now I think about it, but Jonathan was always the hero in my story. I seemed to give him all the credit for the good things that happened in the course of a week. I awarded him that status. Perhaps it was simply because we had been together so long, he felt so solid back then, or because he had an amazing ability to make Willow laugh at herself, which, as you’ve seen tonight, doesn’t always come naturally to me.” Davina allows herself another large gulp of wine, then follows it with a second. “And Maggie adores him. On Friday nights, when we would let her stay up a little later, she would glue herself to him on the sofa and I would become invisible. When she eventually nodded off, he’d carry her up to bed, stay if she stirred.” She smiles at the memory, there is no bitterness in recalling it. “There’s rarely time for that level of indulgence these days and I think they miss it. I hope they know I miss it too.”

“By the time my sister was fourteen, she was sneaking out of the house at night, meeting up with friends, and scaring the living daylights out of Mum. She was so bored at school—an affliction of the very clever—that most weeks Mum was sitting in front of one teacher or another trying to explain why Sally was so disruptive. Willow isn’t doing any of those things, is she?” I’m determined to make Davina see all the good she is doing. How it could be a lot worse.

“No, that’s true.”

“I’ve seen the way you are with them both and I think you’re a wonderful mum.” I don’t elaborate, I want her to feel the weight of these words.

Davina’s eyes mist a little. We both know it’s a compliment she would never pay herself.

“Thank you, Jayne. That means a lot. I know you wouldn’t say it unless you meant it.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Give yourself more credit, I reckon. There are plenty of things you have to say no to, right? And they won’t like it but maybe they’re not supposed to. Imagine what they would be like if you said yes to everything, if they always got their own way.”

We both laugh then.

“Can you even imagine?” howls Davina.

“Maggie would live her life in sequins. Willow would quit school and start her own business. I bet it would be a massive success too.” I have so much admiration for both of Davina’s girls, tackling life in their own unique ways.

We clink glasses and Davina refills us both.

“Okay, here’s to the end of false modesty then,” she says. “Recognizing my own strengths and running with them, just as I’m encouraging my girls to.”

I can see the wine has fortified her somewhat, but it feels so good to hear Davina say this out loud tonight. I really hope it will mark a turning point.

“You’re staying for dinner, right? Willow will flounce back in here in about twenty minutes and she’ll be a lot nicer to me if we have company. Plus, I’d love to chat some more.”

“I’d love to stay, thank you.”

The next thing I know, Maggie has crept up behind me. Without warning she karate-chops her hands on either side of my waist and shouts, “Boo,” which sends half my glass of wine across the work surface.

“Got you!” she yells. “Get me back later. Shave my eyebrows off while I’m asleep!”

The three of us collapse into laughter, then Willow is at the door laughing along, too, despite her best efforts not to, and I feel nothing but total gratitude to share in their messy, all-consuming familial ups and downs.

While the girls are laying the table for dinner and I’m filling a water jug, Davina places an arm around my shoulders and hugs me.

“Since you’re so good at giving advice, will you take some too?” She smiles and I know what’s coming.

“Give Jake a chance.” She says it quickly, before I can cut her off. “It’s obvious to everyone that’s what he’s hoping for. Whatever has gone on before with you, Jayne, he’s not responsible for it. He’s not Alex. He wants to get to know you and I guarantee he won’t be disappointed with what he discovers.”