The Memory Dress

Chapter Twenty-Six

TWENTY-SIX

I make sure Meredith is tucked into bed with everything she needs before I head back downstairs and collapse onto the sofa. It’s been an exhausting day and I feel confident she will sleep well tonight, even if I won’t. It’s just gone nine o’clock. Meredith wanted only buttered toast for dinner. I haven’t eaten yet and although I’m hungry I can’t summon the will to cook anything.

It’s our last night in London. Tomorrow morning, we will visit Spencer House in St. James’s and then we will be catching an afternoon train back to Bath. Has it been worth it? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m more confused than I was before we set off. But is Meredith? She’s been able to share so much but every recollection, every detail, seems to come with another question attached.

I open my purse to check the tickets for our visit to Spencer House tomorrow and my eyes find the business card for the Live Well Center Olivia volunteers at. The prospect of unloading everything and how I feel about it to a faceless stranger who can’t see me is enormously appealing. So, before I have time to talk myself out of it—and encouraged by the suspicion that I’ll be at the end of a very long queue—I call the helpline.

The man’s voice is soothing but not patronizing. He delivers just enough verbal affirmations to reassure me he is listening as I speak, uninterrupted, for twenty-five minutes. And I can feel the weight of the day physically drain from me. I say everything I’m thinking, without the gloss of hope, optimism, or encouragement I use with the others. There is no layer of false capability I might add for Mum’s benefit. None of the apologetic, don’t-mind-me dismissiveness I might include if it wasn’t a total stranger who has taken my call. What starts as a progress report on Meredith soon diverts to my growing feelings for Jake and my concerns for Davina, Olivia, and Carina, even little Maggie and Willow. I speak about my grandmother, all my unresolved guilt, my mum and Sally, questioning if I am a disappointment to both. I unload the lot of it, unedited, so keen to hear a neutral take on it all.

When I finally stop, he says very little, but asks me two questions: “Do you ever let other people care for you, the way you do for them?” and when my silence answers him, “Do you think maybe it’s time to try?”

I’m going to miss sharing our cozy London refuge. I’m scrolling through the list of terrible TV choices, trying to ignore the deep rumble of my belly, when there is a gentle knock at the door. My instinct is not to answer it since obviously they’ll be looking for Jake. But the knock comes again a little louder and I decide to see who it is before Meredith is disturbed.

I open the door to find Jake standing there holding a large brown paper bag and wearing a smile that I instantly mimic. He’s dressed casually, but there’s a hesitance in his demeanor.

“Jake!”

“Hello, there. I thought you might be ready for some different company. A late supper?” He raises an eyebrow hopefully. “I have wine, cheese, some cold meats, bread, of course. And a determination to make you see all your secrets are safe with me, just in case you’ve been doubting yourself—or maybe doubting me.” Obviously, he knows I have. But he looks tentative, not quite holding my eye contact, unsure if this is the right idea or not.

Neither of us speaks. But I am so pleased he is here. I feel a deep excitement stir low in my belly and I want him to know it. The significance of the effort he’s put in—driving all the way here, organizing dinner for two—settles on me and I feel a surge of adrenaline drive up through me. Even I can recognize he hasn’t done all this because he was bored and fancied a change of scenery.

“You really didn’t have to knock, it’s your place.” I force some composure, while trying very hard not to let my face reveal that this might just be the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Then I think better of it and smile broadly. “I’m glad you came. I’ve missed you these past few days.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude if you and Meredith are busy.” He glances over my shoulder.

“She’s already in bed. It’s been quite a day. Sorry, come in.” I step aside to let him through, but he hesitates, reluctant to occupy the small space between me and the doorframe.

“I’ll tell you what, grab the tablecloth from the drawer next to the sink, and let’s eat outside. I don’t want to risk waking Meredith up.” He nods toward the small picnic table on the cobbles. “It’s still warm out.” And I honestly can’t think of a single other thing I would rather do right now.

I lay out the cloth, and while he’s arranging the food, I grab some cutlery, plates, and wineglasses. The effort he has gone to makes my heart feel too large for my chest. The wine is chilled, the meats and cheese wrapped in wax paper. There are four different types of bread, which he pulls apart with his hands, sharing them between us.

“Okay, just one final thing missing.” He smiles. “Hang on.” And then he disappears toward his car, which is parked farther down the narrow cobbled mews.

I watch as he opens one of the rear doors and bends inside, reaching for something. The next thing I see is Margot racing full pelt toward me, her tail high, her mouth pulled back over her teeth, her entire body wagging from side to side almost knocking her off course as she runs. I barely have a chance to say her name before she launches herself onto my lap and sets about licking my neck as Jake joins us again, laughing loudly.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who missed you!” I am so grateful there is no hint of awkwardness between us after everything that was said on Friday night. He has made sure of it.

“What is she doing here?” I can’t contain Margot on my lap. She is frantically jumping on and off me like we haven’t seen each other in years, not just a few days. “Is Davina okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. She just needed some extra help. The usual story, demanding clients, last-minute dramas, and the school holidays have started. Willow has done a great job keeping on top of all the dog walking but I offered to bring Margot so they’d have one less thing to worry about. Margot and I have been having a great time together, haven’t we, girl?” He ruffles the top of Margot’s head and she diverts her attention back to him, finally settling down on the bench beside us. I feel a growing swell of gratitude expand through me at the way everyone in our pretty town house is pulling together, that they are beginning to naturally help one another without me orchestrating meetings and updates.

“Olivia has been great too. She actually took two days off work and spent the whole of it cleaning Meredith’s apartment.”

“She took time off work?” I am genuinely shocked to hear this.

“Yes. I think your enthusiasm—your love for Meredith—is infectious.”

This makes me almost as happy as the fact Jake is here with me tonight, but then I remember the warning Olivia delivered the first time we all got together to discuss Meredith’s needs.

“Hang on, I thought we weren’t supposed to tidy Meredith’s place? Won’t it just confuse her when we get back tomorrow if everything has been moved?”

“That’s why it took so long. She cleaned around everything. She’s left everything exactly where it was but got rid of all the grime and dust. The kitchen was pretty appalling apparently.”

I think of the number of times Olivia has barely paused to say hello to me properly when I’ve arrived to take Teddy off her hands. I know she will have worked through the night to make sure her job didn’t suffer from her rallying around Meredith like this.

“But listen, even better, she came across some old school reports, sheets that seem to have been torn out from a larger book. They are dated between 2001 and 2006, so they must be Fiona’s, not Meredith’s. There’s no cover sheet so we can’t see the name of the school unfortunately.”

“Oh, okay. Did they provide any further clues, anything at all that might help the search?”

“Not exactly, but they do seem to confirm your thinking about Fiona’s education. All the pages are from her music teachers. Meredith hasn’t kept any reports from any other academic subject, as far as we can see. But all the teachers agree Fiona was ‘gifted’ and ‘an exceptional talent’ and ‘destined for great things.’ Let’s just hope we find out more when the head of admissions at the Royal College of Music is back from her break.”

It’s good news, undeniably. Another hint that we are looking in the right places for Fiona, even if we are not there yet.

“Thank you, Jake, that does sound really promising. We’re getting there.”

“And how are you , Jayne?” Jake spreads his elbows wide on the table, leans in, and listens patiently while I update him on everything from the past couple of days. He nods, makes encouraging noises, but says very little. His eyes never leave mine. He leans in a fraction closer to me across the table.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about our chat the other night.” He maintains eye contact. His tone is soft and encouraging, as always. “I just want you to understand that I know how it feels. To believe you are not enough, that there should be more. I spend a lot of time feeling that way, that I’ve somehow missed expectations, even if they are only my own.”

This is so far from the image of Jake I have constructed in my head. The man who fills his garden and his coffee shop with people who always seem happy to see him, who can alter the temperature of the room just by walking into it, who is infinitely kind and generous with his time and resources. How can he possibly be lacking?

“People don’t see it. I suppose I’ve made sure of that. I’ve become very good at it.” He shares more of the food out between our two plates, offering Margot a scrap of some expensive ham. “But I didn’t build that beautiful home just for me. I always imagined I’d be sharing it with someone by now. The fact I’m not, well, it feels like a failure that’s hard not to take personally.”

“But the parties and all this confidence you have, I just don’t understand…” I’m missing something, there is a real disconnect between the Jake I see and the one he is describing.

“Well, that’s the easy bit, isn’t it? Fill your garden with people who like to dress up and drink good champagne. Anyone can do that.”

“Can they?” I know I couldn’t. “People still have to want to come.” He’s drastically underestimating the pull he has over people.

“They don’t come for me, Jayne. I’m not arrogant enough to believe that. They come to feel good about themselves. To mingle and make connections that will benefit them in some way.” He shrugs, accepting of the small part he believes he plays in his own popularity.

“Okay, if that’s true, what’s the hard bit you can’t do? What’s missing from this seemingly very comfortable life of yours?” I laugh as I say it, because I can’t believe any of this is actually true.

“It’s all surface level, Jayne, there’s no depth to any of it, and that’s not what I’m looking for. There are parties and people, but it’s all about self-validation, people making themselves feel good. But I’m not sure either have ever really made me feel good. I’m just surprised it’s taken me so long to realize it.” Jake looks at me, hoping, I think, I’ll bring my usual enthusiasm to solving his problems, too, but I can’t. I’m stunned that he feels this way.

“I’m not sure I could call on any of those people in a crisis. And after a while I started to question, What’s the point of it all? I just didn’t have a better idea, so it carried on. I’ve never been very good at understanding how you move a relationship on. When you feel a connection with someone, how do you make it more?”

“I think you might be asking the wrong person.” I smile. “I’m hardly an expert on that one.”

“I think you are. I’ve been on plenty of dates, but I’ve never really opened up to any of those women, not like I did with you the other night—not like I am now.” He laughs a little at himself then, maybe a little at the both of us. “Being good company comes much more naturally when that’s all it is. It’s the next bit, this ”—he opens his arms to indicate what we are doing right now—“that’s much harder.”

“But you are good at this too.” I can’t help but sound incredulous.

Jake looks at me then and smiles, takes my hand. “Maybe. Or perhaps I’m only any good at it with you. Did you consider that?”

“Nope, I definitely did not.” I am immensely grateful that Margot has wedged herself between us now. Perhaps she senses I need her, and I run a hand over the top of her head.

“What you’re doing for Meredith is incredible, but I’ve seen how patient you are with Maggie. The way you make extra time for Davina. I know you worry about Olivia and if Carina is coping with everything on her plate with running the business. You have this hardwired need to help people. You’ve helped me to work out a few things too.”

I look at the food spread out in front of us. “I’m just happy you came here tonight, that I didn’t scare you off with my own history.”

“I’m here because I care. Too much, I think. I care about you too much, Jayne. Do you understand what I mean?”

I nod.

“I don’t want to be friends. Not just friends. I don’t want you to be confused about that.”

I’d love to put my arms around him. Instead I do my usual trick and exit the situation.

“I better just go and check on Meredith,” I say, pointing behind me and rising from the table.

“Jayne, please.” I don’t even make it to the doorway before he reaches for my arm, stops me, and guides me back toward him. “I just need to hear whether it is okay for me to be here with you. That you don’t want me to leave?”

How can I have made him believe that? How can this incredibly generous and kind man even question himself? I feel awful for placing this doubt in him.

Still I say nothing.

“But I need to be honest with you too. I didn’t drive two hours to check on your progress with Meredith. I care, of course I do, I hope I’ve made that clear, but I came for you . I don’t want to pretend otherwise. I can’t keep hiding it from you because I’m worried about how you’ll react.”

He reads something on my face, my need for him to dispense with any more words, which are clearly not my strong point, and just kiss me.

Then his lips are on mine, both his hands reach up from my lower back to hold me close to him as the kiss deepens. And I’m kissing him back, letting every drop of doubt pour out of me, every awkward exchange we’ve ever had blissfully forgotten.

A glass falls to the floor back inside the kitchen and he snaps away from me, and for a moment, I consider pulling him back.

“Can I check on Meredith?” he offers.

“No, let me, she’s not expecting to see you and it may unsettle her.”

Meredith is picking up the pieces of a broken water glass, placing the shards into the palm of her hand.

“I’m so sorry about the glass,” she says when she sees me. “I woke up thirsty and needed some water.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s only a glass.” I help her with the rest of the pieces.

“William is the only man to ever kiss me like that.” She looks at me like I’m the luckiest girl alive. “I remember the feeling of weightlessness. My entire body hollow like I might just float up and away. No one else ever makes me feel that way.”

I blush at the accuracy of her description.

“There were other men, then, before William, I mean?” There must have been but I’m curious if she can recall any of them.

“My goodness, yes, so many wrong ones. I could probably write a book,” she says, giggling. Then when she sees the surprise on my face, “I hope you’re not imagining that I just landed in this perfect love affair without any of the pain that preceded it? This isn’t some sort of sweet-smelling fairy tale.” Her tone becomes more serious. “If you want to find a man like William, you have to get out there and hunt for him.”

The idea of Meredith hunting William down does not fit at all with the image of their romance I’ve constructed.

“Are you hunting, Jayne? I sincerely hope you are.” She glances back over my shoulder to Jake outside.

“Not really, no.”

“Whyever not?”

“There may not be any need, Meredith. I think he may already have found me.”

For a fleeting moment she looks immensely proud, then her mouth collapses and she is sad again.

“We will find William, won’t we? You won’t give up on us?”

How do I make her believe and remember that I never could?

“No, I won’t,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze to show her I mean it.

“Thank you.” She walks across the kitchen, heading back to her room. “I would give everything to have my time again. To be back where you are now with it all ahead of me. To relive those glorious days and nights and make right the things I got wrong.”

Then she smiles, encouraging me not to waste the opportunity, I think, and disappears up the stairs.

Jake is waiting for me, refusing to intrude on my time with Meredith despite the fact it’s his house. Margot sits next to him, her head cocked to one side, like even she can’t work out why I don’t just get on with it. Margot loves him. Meredith loves him. Maybe it’s time I allowed myself to. He’s refilled our wineglasses and moved so he is sitting astride the bench on my side of the table. He takes my hand and pulls me down next to him, then moves closer so his legs are on either side of me.

“I’ve booked a hotel room for the night, so I’ll head back there. I know you’ve got a big final day tomorrow. But I could give you both a lift back to Bath if you want to avoid the stress of the train?”

“No, it’s okay, she seems to like the train journeys. She might not be as comfortable in your car. I’m not sure I should risk it. But thank you for the offer.”

“Okay, understood. I’ll get going but, well, hopefully we can chat some more when you get back?” He isn’t giving up, not just yet, it seems.

I nod and he leans in to kiss me, on the cheek this time. “I’ll leave all this for you and Meredith to finish up, shall I?” He’s being so kind and cheerful, not pushing me for anything. But I know he wants more—and so do I.

He picks up his phone and car keys from the table. “I hope tomorrow goes well. Come and tell me all about it when you get back?”

“Or you could…” I don’t want to regret these next words.

“I could what?” His eyes travel from my lips down the length of my body. I know we are both thinking the same thing, wanting the same thing. “I could what, Jayne?” He takes a step closer to me.

“You could stay?” I whisper.

I hear his keys hit the cobbles beneath us before his mouth is on my neck. I close my eyes and melt into him as his hands wrap around my waist. Margot stretches out on the bench. I think she understands she’s staying the night too.