The Memory Dress

Chapter Forty-Eight

FORTY-EIGHT

Fiona opens the door to Meredith’s apartment with a face that is the polar opposite of optimistic. It’s not a great start.

“Oh, hello.” Meredith rises from the sofa and greets me like we’ve never met before. “I didn’t know we were expecting company.”

“Morning, Meredith, it’s Jayne from upstairs.” I take the seat next to her. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay, but I think someone is a bit stressed-out.” She nods toward the kitchen, where I can hear Fiona banging cups around. “I don’t like it. It doesn’t feel good and William won’t stand for it.” She’s getting agitated and I wish it was just me and her. But this can’t be about what I prefer. Fiona needs to hear whatever it is Meredith says when we watch her life story again.

Fiona places the mugs of tea down in front of us. “Sorry, I’ve been away from London longer than I said I would be, and I’ve got some catching up to do today before I go back tomorrow.”

“Look what she gave me this morning.” Meredith looks at me excitedly. “My fabric swatches!” There is a large drawstring bag on the table that’s stuffed with scraps of material. She looks at Fiona and I know she can’t remember her name.

“Do you have anything from the dress that Diana gave you, Meredith? The pink silk one in your room with all the beautiful floral embroidery.” I’m keen to introduce the subject of the dress to see how Meredith might feel about selling it, when and if the time comes.

“I gave her the dresses, she didn’t give them to me,” she laughs, and I catch Fiona frowning, more evidence that what we’re here to attempt today isn’t going to work.

Meredith reaches for the bag, pulls it open, and starts to spill the contents into her lap. There are beautiful bright silks, tiny swatches of intricate beaded lace embroidery, satins with a luxurious glossy sheen, and a pale pink chiffon I think might be from the Launceston Place dress.

“Shall we?” Fiona takes the armchair adjacent to the sofa.

I push the memory stick into the side of the laptop, wait for it to upload and the play arrow to appear.

“I thought we could watch that lovely film of your life again.” I turn to face Meredith. “We managed to add a few extra photographs and film footage that I thought you might like to see, if that’s okay?”

Meredith is all smiles, running her fingers across the fabrics now covering her legs and spilling onto the floor and the sofa beside me. I pause. She looks so innocent, childlike almost. There is something so unfair about the knowledge Fiona and I hold, which isn’t shared by her. I don’t like the unasked-for control it gives us. Is what I’m about to show her going to be more than she can cope with?

I think about Olivia’s words last night and how they apply to Meredith today. About her need to be seen, by others but also by herself. To recognize the woman she is in the world around her. How, in her own way, she has fought for that right, and who are we, when the journey reaches this difficult fork, to stop her because she might feel a depth of emotion that we deem too strong? That we might find upsetting. I also think about the enormous gift she has given me, how I would be facing another week of solitude—how I may never have forged my friendships with Davina and Olivia, different as they are, or enjoyed more of Carina’s company, never laughed with Maggie, and never felt the closeness and the thrill of Jake—if not for her. More than that, she’s made me realize that there is great skill involved in listening to someone, really listening. Not everyone can do it or wants to. Olivia said it, too, maybe it is my superpower. It’s thanks to both women that I will be meeting Olivia later outside the Live Well Center, only this time we will be going in together and she’ll be taking me through my first shift. Maybe there will be more Merediths I can help. And many others besides. I hope it will remind me that it’s okay to take a step back at the end of the day and enjoy the new pleasures in my own life, with Jake and these wonderful new friends. That sometimes I need to be my own priority. It could be the beginning of something special and fulfilling—something I have needed for a long time.

Meredith has no idea what she has done for me, and so I am going to press play and whatever happens next, I will be here for her, just as she has been for me.

The film starts. Meredith shuffles forward in anticipation. She smiles along at first, just as she usually does. She’s on safe ground, seeing again all the dresses and the photographs that are familiar to her. Even if she might struggle now to name a place or retrieve a date, she is comfortable that these images are known to her, that they are part of her story. And she remains relaxed until the framed image of William in his white coat and navy suit fills the screen. Then her tears come. They are quiet tears, nothing like the panic I have witnessed in her over the previous weeks. I think she is finding some comfort in the fabric, still in her lap. She is passing pieces gently through her fingers, but she is calm.

She will speak when she is ready to. I hold a hand up to Fiona, encouraging her to wait, to say nothing and let Meredith speak first.

Finally, she looks at us both. “I chose the portrait of him.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “The one they framed. He always liked it. I think because it was one of the last times he was in a place he loved, doing what he loved, wearing his favorite suit. Looking smart on that day”—she nods toward the laptop—“of all days, was important. My darling William.”

Fiona won’t know it, but it’s the first time I have heard Meredith speak about William so firmly in the past tense.

“You made an excellent choice, Mum”—Fiona takes her hand—“and I think he would have been grateful for that.”

Meredith nods. It’s a small step, tiny, I know, the subtlest acknowledgment of what that day was about, the part she played in it, but it’s more than she has ever said before.

“Can I watch it again, please?” I hit play while Fiona and I head to the kitchen.

“It’s not much, I know,” I say as soon as we are out of earshot, “but at the same time, hugely significant.”

“I honestly didn’t think she would connect herself to Dad’s memorial in any way,” admits Fiona, glancing down at her watch again. “I’m sorry, Jayne, I have to go, but maybe we can talk again later?”

I temper my excitement—and, risky as it is, her acceptance of what she’s seen. “There will be more setbacks, steps forward, and then huge ones back again but I truly believe we can make it work if you decide it is best for your mum to stay here.”

“Thank you, Jayne. The fact you care as much as you do means a great deal to me, and to her.”

Fiona returns to the sitting room and gives Meredith a quick kiss on the forehead. She turns to leave before looking back at her mum again. She slowly asks, “You like living here, don’t you, Mum?”

“Where else would I live?” Meredith doesn’t remove her eyes from the screen. We both watch as Meredith gently sways to the sounds of the Steel Magnolias soundtrack we included on the film. Fiona allows herself a small smile before continuing out of the apartment. I close the door behind her and let a huge rush of breath escape me. Then I take my seat back on the sofa next to Meredith.

We watch the final scenes together again. There are no tears this time.

“Would you like to get some fresh air, Meredith?” I ask as the film ends. “I have no plans until later so we could take a walk to one of our favorite parks if you like, maybe let Maggie and Margot tag along if they both behave themselves?”

Her face brightens. “That sounds like a lovely idea. Will we pass a dry cleaner’s on the way?”

“Yes, I’m sure we will. Do you have something that needs to be dropped off?”

“Yes, that navy suit of William’s. It’s a favorite. He’ll want to wear it again soon.”