The Memory Dress

Chapter Twenty-Four

TWENTY-FOUR

Meredith looks tired. Her face a little grayer this morning. The lines around her eyes more prominent, her movements sluggish. She hasn’t spoken since she joined me at the small white kitchen table where I’m sitting, listening to the radio.

“Would you like some of the lovely bread Jake left for us?” I ask. “And there is some marmalade in the fridge, too, if you fancy it?”

“I don’t know a Jake.” She sits with her hands clasped in her lap, looking at the empty plate in front of her like she has no idea how she got here. I think yesterday has drained her.

“Jake lives in the building with us, Meredith. But no matter, there are eggs. I can do you some on toast. Or chop some fruit if you prefer?” I’m trying to sound upbeat, but I know the Meredith who was so keen to come on this trip has not joined me yet this morning.

She remains silent, her head lowered like she doesn’t want me to see her upset. Like she’s ashamed.

“Did you sleep okay?” I shuffle my chair closer to her, forcing her to make eye contact.

“I couldn’t find my memory room.” Her eyes have filled with tears. “All of my pictures and cuttings are gone. William is gone. He won’t be able to find me here. Where is he?” she asks, anguish in her voice.

I take Meredith’s hands, so desperate to offer her some comfort. There is fear in her eyes this morning and more than anything I want to take it away. I want to give her the gift of some peace. To pass through just one day without the gnawing doubts and unanswered questions that scramble her mind with little respite. Then I remember the quick film I recorded of her memory room.

“I have some film footage of your memory room, Meredith. Why don’t you have some breakfast, get washed and dressed, and then we can watch it together if you like?”

That seems to make her feel better. She nods and I start to cut some bread to toast for her. She keeps her eyes on me the whole time while I move about the kitchen, making fresh tea, washing my own breakfast plate, and wiping down the work surface. Her expression shifts. Her eyes narrow and she folds her arms protectively across her chest.

“Who are you exactly?” Her tone is firm, confrontational even, and I feel every muscle in my neck tighten.

“It’s Jayne from upstairs.” I try my usual introduction, still keeping my tone light. “I bring you the forget-me-nots and I walk the dogs. Remember Margot?”

“You’ve never brought me flowers. Only William does that.” She shakes her head. She looks angry because she thinks I’m lying to her. “Are you always going to punish me, is that your plan? We are working so hard, things get missed, too many things, but you…you abandon us.” She is sobbing now, her hands raised toward the ceiling, emphasizing every word she says. “I love you with all my heart. I always have. Why isn’t that enough?” She shakes her head, confused, then narrows her eyes, and I see a determination to confront some deep buried hurt. Without any further warning, she stands and shouts at me, “Why can’t you see the bigger problems? Why won’t you help me?”

I take a couple of steps back away from her. Her eyes are wild, like she’s shocked at the volume of noise that just came out of her.

I freeze, too stunned to respond to her. I give the moment time to subside and the air around us a chance to settle. I think of Davina, how brilliant she would be in this situation. Of Jake, how might he react if he were here now? Would he stand back or step between us?

Meredith slumps back into her chair, allowing her arms to drop heavily beside her, and I know we are over the worst of it. When she speaks again her words are soft and delivered with such tenderness.

“I will always love you. I will always find you fascinating and brilliant. There will never be a day when I regret that you are mine. But you make me feel like such a failure. All that bitterness, I’ll never understand it, but I can accept that at least part of the blame must be mine, if you will too.”

We sit together, neither of us speaking, me feeling my heart rate begin to slow in my chest until finally she lifts her head.

“Oh dear, I think my tea is cold.” My Meredith has returned. I reach for my phone, feeling it is safe now to share the film with her. I smile as the pictures of a childish Fiona appear in front of us both. Meredith taps the screen, pausing the moving image on one of Fiona frowning over her birthday cake.

“We celebrate so late. A month after her actual birthday because the deadlines won’t have it any other way,” she says. Then she takes my hand, squeezes it tightly, and leans toward me so our shoulders are touching.

“It’s Leicester Square today, isn’t it?” She beams. “I’ll get my essentials bag.” Then she’s off again, humming her usual tune.

“Why is there so much traffic?” We are standing on Bayswater Road waiting for a break in a continuous line of black cabs and red buses. “It’s never this busy.” No one is stopping for us at the pedestrian crossing that will take us into the park, and it is unnerving Meredith. She shuffles from foot to foot. The thrum of unbroken engine noise. The suffocating cloud of traffic fumes. The shouts from cyclists weaving dangerously in and out of the cars is stressful for me and disorientating for her. Finally, we make it across four lanes of traffic, her gripping my arm, onto the wide path that forks right through the park leading us down toward the Serpentine with its blue-bottomed paddleboats.

The lake is busy today. The tourists are out in force soaking up the rare London sunshine. We walk across the broad stone bridge and bear left, remaining in the park, walking parallel with Knightsbridge, where I plan to hail us a cab.

I first notice the crowds clustered around the Diana memorial when we are halfway across the bridge. I don’t know how I could have forgotten it’s here. I should have diverted us left earlier so we walked on the opposite side of the lake. Meredith may find this upsetting and then our whole day could unravel.

“What are they all here for?” Meredith points toward them. “What are we missing?” She seems excited about the prospect of an impromptu performance that we may have stumbled upon by chance.

I have no idea what the correct response is, but she seems determined to find out. She takes the lead, hugging the footpath between the water and the crowds, then comes to an abrupt halt in front of the curved concrete walkway and reads the sign aloud:

WELCOME TO THE DIANA, PRINCESS OF WALES MEMORIAL FOUNTAIN

She gives herself the time to take in the view. Mums with trouser legs rolled up to their knees enjoying the cool of the water they’re standing in. Abandoned buggies and clothing strewn about. Lunch boxes and bags scattered along the walkway. The occasional child in nothing but their underpants. Builders and office workers taking a break, heads angled to the sunshine. And the light, joyful sounds of laughter and screams carry on the air, mingling with the refreshing splash of water.

“She would have loved it, I think,” says Meredith, smiling. “Just like you do.” She has caught me smiling at a young mum trying to keep herself upright in the water, each hand gripping a bouncing toddler. “What a shame it ever had to be built.”

It’s nearly one o’clock by the time we get to Leicester Square and I know Meredith will be asking me for an egg sandwich any minute now. I scan across the top of the crowds for somewhere to buy one when the time comes.

“Well, I’m very happy to see William Shakespeare all cleaned up.” Meredith looks toward the stone statue in the center of the square. “The gardens look neater than usual too. Everything looks brighter. Less brick, more glass.” She takes a seat on one of the wooden benches and pats the space next to her, encouraging me to do the same. “Oh, it’s so exciting. I’m a little used to the hysteria now. But this is the premiere. Charles joins her on the red carpet and they walk the line, shaking hands with all the cast and crew, some of the representatives from the Prince’s Trust charity. Shirley MacLaine’s bright red hair! Julia’s endless smile. I love the smart porters in their gray capes and peaked hats that line our route.” Meredith scans the cinema building, looking peaceful, like she’s reading a longed-for postcard.

“Would you like to go inside?” I ask. “I’m sure they won’t mind if we take a quick look.”

She glances up at its shouty advertising hoardings and shakes her head.

“I don’t think I need to.” She smiles. “I can see it all perfectly.”

We walk toward the entrance and the familiar toasted scent of warm popcorn reaches us. We’re jostled by children not prepared to wait for their tickets to be checked. Then Meredith seems to change her mind.

“I’m needed! This is the night. They are all about to go through and take their seats.” Her eyes flick off to the left. “I’ve just started to relax, knowing she will be sitting down soon.” Meredith closes her eyes and I stay perfectly still, hoping nothing will distract her now, just as the images are returning to her. “I’m given the signal and whisked into a nondescript back room. I think it’s the staff room or the manager’s office. It’s very small, windowless.”

She pauses again and her eyes drop to the black bag at her wrist that has accompanied us every step of the way so far. “It’s the gold stitching, one of the flowers at the wrist of her tailcoat. They look so dramatic on the burgundy silk velvet. Bouton Renaud. The best.”

I’m not entirely following but I allow her to continue uninterrupted.

“The pearl embroidery must have caught on something with all that hand shaking. It’s very small, barely noticeable, but she feels it tug and she’s worried it will unravel further.” She lifts the black bag higher now, clutching it to her chest.

“Why don’t you open the bag, Meredith. Perhaps what is inside will help?” But I sense her mind has moved on. The contours of her face have shifted slightly. The strain of concentration has eased, replaced by a softness, a longing.

“I cry quietly all the way through the movie.” She sweeps her fingers under her eyelashes now as if the tears are still waiting to be wiped away. “But not for the reasons everyone around me is crying. The acting is good, it feels so real. I feel the pain of their sorrow. But it is easily canceled out by him.” She closes her eyes and sighs deeply, as if she has lost something that might never return.

“I know now that he loves me. And that we are going to be together. That my life will never be the same again. I’ll never have to doubt it. I have found my other half.”

I feel my own mouth drop open and I know this powerful sentiment is what has bonded me to Meredith in a way that has been hard to articulate to others. This need for another half, a missing half for both of us. Hers I pray we will find, somehow. Mine, lost forever. I wipe a tear from my cheek before she sees it.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” she continues. “The feeling of total certainty. From the moment we meet, we are never really apart. It’s like we were put on this earth for each other.”

I swallow down the sadness for everything that should have been and may now never be.

“And how wonderful, Jayne, can you imagine it? A man who doesn’t shower his love and affection around freely, aiming it all at me, only me.”

Is this something I can find for myself? Might I have found him already? Not to replace a lost sister who will always remain missing. But who can enrich my life in other ways? Is this what Jake might do? Is it what he wants to do if I give him the chance? If I could trust him with my heart? I think again about his garden parties, the lack of one consistent person by his side but also his confession that he didn’t want to be alone the other night. Is he looking for the same closeness I’m looking for but too afraid to take the leap to find it?

“Certainty is a gift. To be certain of yourself and of each other. I think it’s impossible to be any happier, we are together and I believe it’s enough.”

I absorb Meredith’s sweet recollections, attaching my own hopes to her wise words. Standing in Leicester Square, surrounded by a swarm of tourists and reliving this beautiful love affair of hers, feels like a privilege. I see it in her face like it is happening afresh. Like she just fell in love for the first time right in front of me.