The Memory Dress

Chapter Twenty-Two

TWENTY-TWO

We’re all back in Jake’s kitchen, eating bread of course—this time a walnut-fig-and-date loaf. It’s our last chance to get together before Meredith and I head off after the weekend.

“I’m pleased to report Meredith never nicked my milk this morning, so that’s progress!” Everyone laughs at Davina’s bluntness, then we get busy tearing into the bread, smothering the slices in a thick coating of butter and, on Jake’s suggestion, fresh lemon curd.

“Just trust me on this, it works.” He’s right, of course.

“She was watching that movie again this morning. The one that’s always blaring.” Davina fumbles for the title. “You know, it has Dolly Parton in it?”

“ Steel Magnolias !” shouts Carina.

“That’s it!”

“Blimey, that’s got to be nearly thirty years old.” Carina laughs. “Maybe we need to add a Netflix subscription to the list of things Meredith needs? Although I understand the appeal. All those brilliant women helping one another in their own special ways. And the love story with Shelby and Jackson. I would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special .” Carina has gone very uncharacteristically breathy.

While they’re critiquing the script, I think for a minute. “One of our locations is the cinema in Leicester Square. Can someone google the movie? I wonder if it was shown there while Meredith was living in London. Maybe the dates overlap?”

Carina taps the details into her phone, and we all wait for the answers to load.

“Well, it wasn’t just shown there, it premiered there. And it looks like Diana attended that night.” Carina flicks her phone around so we can see all the images.

“That’s the dress,” I confirm. “The one that Diana is wearing, it’s one of the sketches hanging in Meredith’s memory room. It’s very distinctive. Can I can take a closer look?”

I scroll through the images, looking for Meredith. Was she there too? Might William be with her? Is there any detail that I can use to prompt her? But all the shots are focused tightly on Diana and just one or two other official-looking types who are leading her along the red carpet. I keep going, loading several more pages, but there is nothing.

“What exactly are you looking for, Jayne?” asks Davina.

“I just wondered if Meredith might have been visible somewhere in the shots too. But she’s not. Too much to hope for, I suppose.”

“That’s a shame, it would be brilliant if we could show Meredith herself, back at the time that seems to be so evocative to her,” says Carina.

“Hang on, look at this.” I pause over an image of Diana, stopped on the red carpet in front of a bank of photographers, the overhead lights reflected back into hundreds of lenses creating a backdrop of perfect bright white circles. I point to a small black object that has swung into the shot. It shouldn’t be there. Everyone leans in for a closer look.

“What is that?” asks Davina.

“I know exactly what it is,” I say, beaming. “It’s Meredith’s essentials bag. She brought it with us on the first trip to London and insists it has to come with us on Monday too.”

“I’d love to know what’s in it,” says Davina.

“I have a reasonable idea,” I add, “but I’m waiting for the right moment for Meredith to open it. I don’t think she will until she feels she needs to. Maybe I should watch this film before we go? It might help if I can reference it to Meredith in some way.”

“That’s a great idea. So, besides the movie, are you all set for Monday, Jayne? Is there anything else we can do to help at this stage?” Davina asks.

“I don’t think so. All the dog walks are scheduled. Willow is going to earn a nice chunk of money while I’m gone. Carina is covered and the itinerary is in place.”

“You know how to get to Park Garden Mews?” asks Jake. He moves around the kitchen island, placing himself right next to me. “I’d be happy to take you and Meredith if that’s easier? I mean, I could get away from work, if you need me to.” He’s lowered his head, fidgeting nervously. A quick glance at the others shows that Davina’s eyebrows have shot skyward, and Carina is nodding furiously. I ignore the pair of them.

“Yes, it’s an easy walk from Paddington station, isn’t it? So we’ll probably do that if it’s not raining.” I can feel the disappointment radiate across the room from Davina, it must be taking all her willpower not to shout at me.

“Absolutely.” Jake’s voice is louder again, and he takes a step back from me. “I just wanted to check you are comfortable with the arrangements, that’s all.”

“Thank you.” I step toward him, closing the gap again. “I know you do, and I really appreciate it. It’s very kind of you.” It’s the first time I wish I was alone with Jake. I want to take his hand. I want to let my eyes linger on his face far longer than I can in front of an audience, to let him know that I see everything he’s doing and I hope he can see how it is pulling me toward him.

“I’ve sent you the security codes and a few pointers on how things work but call me anytime if you need to. You’ve got my number?”

I try to ignore the very loud exhale of breath from Davina and keep my focus firmly on Jake. “Yes, thank you.” Maybe her unsubtle commentary is actually having the desired effect. I can feel myself wanting to let go of my inhibitions.

Our meeting wraps up rather quickly after that. Jake waits until everyone has left the coach house before he stops me.

“Jayne, do you have any other plans tonight? I thought I could give you that bread-making lesson we talked about. Only if you’d like to, of course?”

I hesitate, giving him the opportunity to add shyly, “And at the risk of sounding unmanly, I don’t really fancy being on my own tonight. I’d prefer some company. Your company, I mean.”

I’m surprised that someone as outwardly confident as Jake would say this. It makes me drop my defenses a little. Perhaps there are greater depths to Jake than he’s been willing to show any of us so far. And I know it’s daft, but I want to impress Davina. I want to be able to show her I don’t just dish out advice and not take it from others, so I nod.

“What are we making?”

He immediately starts moving around the kitchen, pulling out a wide metal bowl and a brown paper bag of flour.

“Let’s start you off with a basic recipe.”

“Sounds easy enough. Why does this excite you so much?” I laugh.

“It’s the ease of it.” He casually throws flour into the bowl, unbothered by how much of it is cascading down the front of him. “Four ingredients, that’s all it is. Flour, water, yeast, and salt. It’s so simple. But if you treat it right, you get something at the end that gives such pleasure. It brings people together. It helps them enjoy each other. That is the miracle of bread, Jayne!”

Everything he does is instinctive, he doesn’t pause to measure anything, he feels his way through it, holding the bowl in place with his left hand, using his right to dig into the mixture and combine the ingredients together. He never picks up a utensil.

“Pinch it, it shouldn’t feel wet or sticky.” He tilts the bowl toward me.

“Perfect.” I’m not sure what else I’m expected to say.

When he’s happy that I’m happy with it, he turns the dough out onto the wood and begins to fold it in on itself, pinching the sides inward.

“You try.” The fact he trusts me with his precious dough feels like quite an honor.

While I’m doing my best to mimic his movements, he grabs a metal loaf tin from one of the low drawers and lightly greases it with his fingers. Then he takes the round of dough from me and cups it, balling it, smoothing its sides, holding it like you might a baby’s head.

“Perfect. Now it just needs to proof. We can check it in a couple of hours, but it will need overnight for a really crisp crust that’s tender inside. What shall we do in the meantime?”

It feels like an incredibly loaded question. What is he imagining we might do?

Jake and I are very different people, it seems unlikely he has thought of us beyond the safe borders of friendly neighbors, even if I have. But he edges closer to me and his smile softens. I’ve rejected him once before and he’s trying again. Davina’s comments are ringing loudly on my ears. Should I stay? The evening has been lovely, I can leave now, and it will remain that way.

I smile despite the nerves. I know that if I stay any longer, it’s going to get personal. We won’t have the distraction of the bread making, which means there will be no alternative but to really talk. As keen as I am to get to know Jake better—and there are so many unanswered questions surrounding him—I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m not sure I want to be on the receiving end of all his questions. He’s a neighbor, and when it all goes wrong and gets awkward, there will be no avoiding him. This already feels like too much. I’m alone in his apartment with him. I’m about to go and stay at his house in London. Where is he imagining this is all leading?

“We could watch Steel Magnolias ?” He laughs. “There can’t be many men who have used that as a tactic to get a woman they like to stay a little longer. Help me, Jayne, this is getting embarrassing and I’ve got nowhere else to go now I’ve offered you that!”

Now I’m laughing.

“You’re prepared to sit through that movie with me?” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Yes, I am. And you shouldn’t assume I won’t love it every bit as much as you might.” I love the way he can laugh at himself. To feel ridiculous and just go with it, knowing that he may just get what he wants on the other side of a little discomfort. I’m not going to think about the fact he also just said he likes me. He likes everyone. He doesn’t know me. Only what I have chosen to show him so far, which is practically nothing.

“Let’s see about that, shall we? I’ll stay, but I need to be home by midnight, or I’ll be useless tomorrow.”

“All right, Cinderella, follow me.”

We climb the stairs to the upper level, another large open-plan living space that is divided in two by a central stone archway. The ceilings are sloping up here, some brick walls are exposed, others painted a deep green that immediately reminds me of English hedgerows. It feels cozy and relaxed as opposed to the symmetrical elegance and formality of the rooms in the main house. It feels very Jake. We walk through his bedroom, my eyes disobeying me, lingering on his bed. It’s huge, low to the floor, perfectly made with all white linen, chunky gray woolen blankets, a stack of books on the side I assume he sleeps on. A freestanding circular slate-colored tub is placed directly in front of a double-height sash window. A dull brass showerhead that must be a foot wide is suspended above it from the ceiling and it takes all my will to stop myself visualizing him in there every morning. I know tomorrow, when I am less under his gaze, I will imagine what I might look like sunken into that tub.

As we move into the sitting room, visible from Jake’s bed, I smile as I see I called it right. A deep blue velvet sofa runs almost the entire width of the room, big enough for two people to comfortably sleep on. The wall facing the sofa is given entirely to bookshelves, the TV attached to the front of them. I see him then on Sunday afternoons, lying here, a coffee in front of him, scattered newspapers, probably a cookbook, dozing, looking every bit as beautiful as the surroundings.

“What would you like to drink?” Jake asks. “A glass of wine? There’s some champagne if you prefer, or gin and tonic, beer? I have pretty much everything.”

“A glass of white would be lovely, thank you.”

He disappears back downstairs to grab it while I grapple with an overly complicated TV remote, give up, and then wonder where I should sit, grateful that any spot means my back will be to his bed. I decide on one end of the sofa—it’s big enough for eight people, so we won’t be on top of each other.

Jake returns, hands me the glass of wine and a small bowl of pretzels, then sits so close that our legs are touching. I use the act of placing my glass on the low wooden coffee table in front of us to create some space.

“Okay, Meredith, this better be good,” he says as the opening credits start to roll and he stretches his legs out, placing them on the table—a level of relaxed I know I won’t achieve before I leave tonight.

We go deep into the world of women: extravagant hairdos, irritating men, disappointing husbands, babies, weddings, mothers and daughters, lots of cooking and fussing and gossiping. I almost forget where I am, I’m enjoying it so much. It’s the devoted kindness that sits behind everything the women do for one another that sucks me in. Halfway through, while Jake is refilling the pretzel bowl, I text Mum and Sally and arrange to grab a quick lunch with them both one day next week. Jake laughs genuinely in all the right places and especially loudly when Dolly Parton announces, “ When it comes to suffering, she is right up there with Elizabeth Taylor. ”

But the ending is crushing. I try so hard to keep the tears in, but I just can’t do it. How I wish I was watching this movie alone at home so I could sob loudly and allow the tears to pour out of me unguarded. The effort of keeping them in produces a loud sob from deep inside me that I’m not capable of disguising as a cough. I shuffle forward on the sofa, ready to make my escape. Jake can’t ignore it.

“Jayne, anyone who didn’t cry at this movie would be subhuman. I’m not far off myself. Come here.” He gently pulls me toward him, wraps me up in his arms, my head on his chest. Then I feel his lips on my hair as he kisses the top of my head, and I don’t know what it means.

“Oh, I’m ridiculous. Sorry, Jake,” I mumble, pulling away from him. I wish I was one of those women who could genuinely laugh this off.

“Don’t be.” He’s completely comfortable with a woman sobbing all over his sofa, but one look at my face tells him I’m a lot less at ease with it.

“Listen, Jayne,” he says, his face now more serious. “I don’t know your story. But I would like to. And I’m here if you would ever like to share it with me.” He’s shifted back a little on the sofa, giving me some space.

I say nothing. I want to answer him. But too much practice at saying nothing prevents me. Talking means I’m explaining myself and I’m afraid of what may come pouring out once I start. How unrecognizable it will be from Jake’s own experience of the world. But the way his face is searching mine, the way he has created a respectful distance between us but continues to lean toward me indicating he’s ready to hear whatever I have to say, has me teetering on the very edge of revealing everything to this man I barely know.

I want to let him in. I want to show him exactly who I am, but I’ve been here before with Alex. It’s all wonderful, until it’s not.

My silence and hesitance must be written on my face, because after a pause, Jake softly says, “You have so few expectations, Jayne. You never enter a room determined to leave with something—anything—do you? My God, that’s so rare, do you even know that? It’s so honest and uncomplicated, and I like that about you. I like you . I just wish you would show me more.”

I open my mouth to respond but my breath is so ragged. Not from the emotion of the film anymore but because of him, everything he’s saying. I hadn’t dared to imagine he might actually…“I know the idea frightens you. I can see that. And to be honest…I’m nervous too.” He gives a rueful shake of his head. “There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

He just needs the slightest sign. An intake of breath that tells him I want to give more, a flicker of longing in my eyes, a shift of my body weight toward him, something.

“If not with me, Jayne, then someone you think is special enough. You deserve to be happy and to feel loved. You do so much for everyone else. I just—I hope you don’t think you are worthy of any less yourself?”

I am so close to letting go. I attempt to explain myself because I owe him that at least. “But it’s not as easy for me as it is for you.”

“Tonight hasn’t been easy for me, Jayne. Not at all,” he says, eyes soft.

“Oh?”

“I’ve spent five hours wanting to tell you just how much I like you but worried that I’ll scare you off, doubting whether it’s the right thing to do. Believe me, that’s not easy.” His eyes look heavy. “None of this comes naturally to me.”

I sense he wants to expand on this, so I wait, hoping he will.

“You know, it was a really big deal for me to offer you my place in London.” He leans back on the sofa, the closeness between us loosened.

“I know. And I’m sorry I seemed so ungrateful at the time, it’s just that…” I can feel my cheeks warm at the memory of how I reacted.

“No, not in the way you think.” He sighs. “The last person who used it really abused the offer. She was someone I thought cared about me, and actually, as it turned out, she liked the house more than she liked me.” His smile is sad, I can see the admission still hurts.

It’s also incredibly hard to believe. “What happened?”

He clasps his hands together and lowers his head, perhaps not wanting to expose his full emotions to me. “We’d been seeing each other for a while, I had a key cut for her, and then discovered on the weekends she told me she wasn’t free, she was staying there with friends—and then another man.”

“Oh, Jake.” I feel the betrayal, the shock Jake must have felt.

“Yeah, she would have got away with it for a lot longer, but she got too casual about it, left things out of place, and eventually Sandra, my lovely cleaner, said something that gave her away.” He shakes his head, then looks back at me. “I felt so stupid. Idiotic that I could put my trust in someone who clearly didn’t deserve it. It happened last year but I still ask myself how I could have misjudged someone so badly.”

“I really have no idea how someone could do that. The lies it must have taken to pull it off.” I feel calmer, my tearstained face forgotten now that we are talking about someone other than me.

“It’s the money, Jayne, it makes people weird.” He allows himself a small smile at that observation. “I’ve realized it can change how some people think and feel about me. Like I’m somehow immune to hurt. That I wouldn’t care because it’s only a house and I have more than one of those.” He pauses, checking I still look interested in what he’s sharing. “I’ve worked really hard to build the business and it’s doing well. I don’t go out of my way to hide the fact, but I don’t broadcast it either.”

“I think I do understand the money thing,” I say before I realize it needs explaining.

“You do?”

“I just mean, what you’re saying makes sense.” But it’s too late to wriggle away from this conversation.

Jake leaves a silence for me to fill and I can’t.

“I’m being presumptuous, I know, but you’re a dog walker, Jayne. A wonderful one, obviously, Margot adores you. I bet they all do. But you also live in one of the most expensive addresses in Bath. Those two facts don’t quite add up, do they? I know there could be a really obvious explanation for it but, well, I’m also wondering if there is more to it.”

The way he says it, so confidently, not fearful of risking offense, makes me feel like he knows there is more to it. It seems unnecessary and insulting to deny it. If I’m going to share my story with anyone, Jake feels like the safe choice. Now feels like the right time when he has opened up so willingly to me.

I turn to face him. “The money was given to me by my parents.” I pick through the words slowly, not sure what I’ll say next.

He nods, encouraging me.

“It was a payout. A really significant one. From the hospital where Mum gave birth to me…and my sister.” I let my eyes find his again. Just saying that one word makes my chest feel tight.

“I’ve heard you mention a sister, Sally, isn’t it?” I love that he has listened, paid attention when I’ve been talking. But I need to correct him.

“Sally is my older sister, yes. But this was my twin sister, Emma.” My eyes mist. Not just for a lost sister but for everything that’s happened since that one pivotal moment at the very beginning of my life. The devastating effect it had on my mother, the breakdown of my parents’ marriage, my darling grandmother and the grief she never came to terms with, the shy child I became, the relentless bullying I suffered at school in the years I retreated into myself. All the ways in which the loss of this other half of me has shaped everything. How I have allowed it to. How I’ve buried the hurt and hidden behind it, let it grow and never shared it, until now.

I look into Jake’s eyes and I know he is already there. He understands exactly what I’m saying.

“The photograph on your fridge?” he asks quietly, respectfully. “Is that Emma?”

“Yes. You knew?” I know there’s no way he could possibly know but he seems so definite.

“Only now, but your reaction when I first saw it seemed so closed off, I understood it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. I think I knew there was more to it.”

We sit for a few minutes in an easy silence while I gather my thoughts. There is more I want to say, and he senses that, too, but he doesn’t rush me. Neither of us feels the need to force our way through this conversation.

“I would hand all the money back in a second if I could go back to that hospital room, the one Mum should have left with two baby girls.” My mind races back to the legal battle she told me she fought through her grief, the contradiction of her relief and her disgust at the payout when it came, something I am reminded of every day when I think about what it bought me. Mum didn’t want the money, but she did want it to help me. She said my loss would prove greater than hers.

“I know you would, Jayne. I think everyone in this house understands there is a depth to you that most people don’t possess.”

“I thought the sadness would simply lift as the years moved on. But it has morphed into this heavy guilt and a deep-rooted insecurity.” I want to tell Jake everything. I want him to understand how it feels to have this money, what it has done for me but also to me. “I am incomplete. Not everything I should be.” I ask myself again, Was it my fault? What happened in that small dark world that we shared for those months? “Maybe it’s why I’m so determined to help Meredith. I understand how it feels to lose your other half. It’s exactly how I feel living without a part of myself that should be here. I miss her.” I look into his eyes. “Does that sound really odd?”

“It doesn’t sound odd at all.” I feel Jake’s hand slide into mine, the weight of it sitting there, telling me I am not alone now.

“I just wish I had some memory of the closeness we must have shared, you know, just the smallest shred of a shared love to balance out all the negative feelings I haven’t been able to shake, even all these years on. All I have of Emma is the Polaroid image of my swaddled sister, the one others readily assume is me. But I was safe, wrapped in another pink blanket, sleeping soundly. The baby in Mum’s arms was never going to wake up again.”

He hasn’t interrupted me once. Jake has held my hand and let me share thoughts and feelings I haven’t voiced to another living soul. Not even my own mother.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says as he wraps both arms around me and pulls me closer to him, tightly, in a way that says he understands what it took to let all that out.

We stay like this, I’m not sure for how long. I hear the timer beep in the kitchen to signal the bread has finished proofing. We both ignore it and eventually it stops. I drift off to sleep, enjoying the sensation of my body sinking into his, his breath deepening. When I stir, Jake has pulled a blanket across the two of us. He’s still holding on to me like he never wants to let me go.

“You can stay if you’d like to, it’s no problem.” He runs his hands across the top of my head, smoothing my hair.

I don’t want to but for the best possible reason. Tonight has been enough. I feel better, lighter, than I have done in a very long time—because of Jake. I want to go home, slide into bed, and think about just how lucky I am that this incredible man is in my life.