A Hundred Pieces of Me (5 page)

‘It’s someone else’s house now,’ said Gina, and she didn’t mean the family who’d bought it.

Naomi almost said something, then changed her mind. She patted Gina’s arm. ‘Let’s have a croissant. They’re in the bag.’

Gina lifted the paper carrier-bag onto the counter top. Inside there was an expensive three-wick hyacinth-scented candle; a couple of glossy magazines; a tub of cookie-dough ice cream; a bottle of wine; and some still warm croissants. All old favourites. Nearly the same selection of treats Naomi had brought round after every hospital treatment, barring the wine. In the end, Gina had got wine in for Naomi to drink while she was sitting with her – one of them, at least, deserved to be excused the juicer.

‘Ah, yes. I remember these. No self-help books?’

‘Nope. I reckoned you were a bit past them now. And it sounds like your mum’s sent you all the best ones already.’

‘I don’t know about the
best
ones . . . Did I tell you she accidentally gave me one of hers in her last consignment –
How to Cope with Your Child’s Divorce
?’

‘God, really?’

‘Really.’ Gina put the ice cream in the freezer for later. The chiller drawers were beautifully free of stray peas and old ice-cube trays. ‘I’m very tempted to write “It’s not always about you, Mum” across the first page and give it back to her. You’d think she was the one who’d been dumped, the way she’s acting.’

Naomi laughed, but then looked remorseful. ‘You won’t, though, will you? I know Janet drives you mad, but she means well. And when you’ve lost two husbands before you’re fifty . . .’

‘“. . . you know what it’s like to be alone.” Yeah, we’ve had that conversation. And no, of course I won’t say anything.’

‘Sorry. I don’t mean to nag. I know it’s easier to be patient with other people’s mothers. But at least Janet’s around, and not constantly swanning off to foreign parts with her new bloke like mine. ’ Naomi put the kettle on. ‘So – what’s the latest with Stuart? Is he still texting you, or has he picked up the phone?’

‘Still texting. It’s better that way. It’s not like we’ve got a lot to say to each other. Has Jason seen him since . . . since he moved out?’

‘No. He wasn’t at football this week. Jay won’t tell me anything anyway. You know what blokes are like. What happens in the changing room stays in the changing room.’ Naomi’s lip curled eloquently. ‘But he sends his love. He thinks Stuart’s lost his mind. Says if there’s anything we can do . . .’

‘Thanks.’ Gina pulled the horn off a croissant. ‘But I’m hoping it’s going to be straightforward. I mean, we’ve no kids to argue about, the house has been sold, he’s got the cats. It’s just a case of giving all the details to the solicitors and letting them get on with it. Rory – thanks for the recommendation, by the way, he’s brilliant – says he can probably get things sorted out in about three months. Four months if people are away.’

‘Good. I’m glad the practical stuff’s in hand. But what about
you
? You’re being so calm.’ Naomi poured boiling water onto the tea bags and poked them impatiently. ‘I’d be going after that cheating bastard with a pair of nail scissors. Seriously, you just have to say the word.’ She pushed the mug over the counter with a fake-menacing smile that was only half joking. ‘It doesn’t have to be nail scissors. It could be Veet. Or laxatives.’

Gina cupped her scalding mug in her hands, and tried to work out how she did feel, right now. ‘Most of the time I’m fine. Sometimes I’m . . . not. But it’s mainly a relief. Things weren’t right with me and Stuart. Maybe I should have been braver and ended it myself, instead of letting it fail.’

‘You didn’t
fail
. You two had a lot to deal with,’ said Naomi at once. ‘
Way
more than most couples have to face in a lifetime.’

‘But that’s what’s so awful.’ She winced. ‘Isn’t going through bad times together supposed to make you stronger? I know that’s what everyone’s thinking – they got through that, how come they split up now?’

‘No one’s thinking that. If they’re thinking anything, it’s that Stuart’s having an early on-set midlife crisis and you’ve kicked him out. How long were you together? Nine years? Ten?’

‘Nearly nine. And married for five and a bit.’ Gina winced. What was that feeling? Shame? Despair? Nostalgia? Marriages weren’t meant to collapse so soon. Not round here. ‘Do you need a steamer, by the way? For some reason, we got three for wedding presents. I’m going to put a notice up on the board at work. I’m having a purge. ’

‘Gina, you don’t
have
to throw everything away.’

‘I do. I want to.’ She gestured at the boxes. ‘Where would I put it anyway? This flat is a fresh start. All white and clean and
mine
. Whatever I choose to put in it has to say something about who I am now.’

‘
Riiight.
’ Naomi picked at her croissant and tried to look encouraging.

Gina carried on. It was the first time she’d explained her plan in words, and saying it aloud made it feel more definite. ‘There’s no room here for anything I don’t really love or need, so I’m going to keep a hundred things that I can’t live without. The rest has to go. And then I’ll be able to appreciate the hundred things properly, instead of having drawers of stuff I never look at.’

‘Whoa there!’ Naomi put her croissant down. ‘You’re a hoarder, you’ve always been a hoarder. Is this the interior-designer version of cutting all your hair off and having a dolphin tattooed on your bum?’

‘I’m just being practical. I can’t unpack my old house here. There’s no room, and that house is gone. That person’s gone. And I’ve been carting all this stuff around with me for years, so it’s about time I had a sort-out.’

‘But why a hundred? You know that’s not a lot, right? You probably had a hundred
candlesticks
in your old house.’

‘It’s a nice round number. And it’s not going to include essentials, like, you know, underwear. But I need
some
rules, otherwise where do I start? One thing I have decided, though,’ Gina added. ‘I’m going to sell a load of stuff and buy myself something really nice. A present for my new place.’

‘That’s a
great
idea.’ Naomi nodded more enthusiastically. ‘Let me know if you need a bit of help with that. I do a lot of eBaying.’

‘Really?’ Gina was surprised. Not just that Naomi had time to eBay, but that she wanted to. The Hewsons weren’t short of money: Naomi had just gone back to work full-time as the all-seeing, all-knowing practice manager at the dental surgery, and Jason was a senior partner with an IT recruitment company.

‘Yes, it’s brilliant for keeping the clutter under control,’ said Naomi, blithely. ‘I do a cull of the house three or four times a year. Jason’s golf stuff, clothes Willow’s grown out of, books, Christmas presents – you’d be amazed what people will buy with the right description.’ She wiggled her fingers. ‘I quite enjoy doing the descriptions.’

Gina raised an eyebrow. ‘And doesn’t your inability to call a spade a gardening management solution get in the way of a sale?’

‘That’s the weird thing! People appreciate a bit of honesty. I just haven’t told Jay’s mum what my seller name is. Otherwise she’d realise that all those china angels she keeps giving us aren’t actually in the display cabinet she thinks they are.’

Naomi did her half-wink grin, and Gina thought how little she’d changed in the years they’d known each other. The hair had been a variety of colours and styles, and there were a few crows’ feet round the sharp green eyes, but otherwise it was the same bossy, thoughtful, faintly anarchic Naomi she’d encountered on her first day at senior school. Gina felt a sudden clutch of relief that they’d met when they had. It could so easily have been someone else with a space next to them in the classroom. Someone else who had Naomi McIntyre as their best mate, dragging them out of so many gloomy days, instead of letting them wallow.

‘I’ve got something for you, actually,’ said Gina, and clambered her way back into the sitting room to find the shopping bag she’d filled earlier. ‘Although after what you’ve just said I don’t know if you deserve it.’

Naomi accepted the bag with a groan. ‘Is this where you get your own back by re-gifting me all my own Christmas presents?’

‘No! Have a look.’ Gina sat back, anticipating the reaction with a glow of pleasure.

It took a moment, but when Naomi’s shriek of joy came, Gina felt like Santa Claus.

‘Oh, my God!
Gina!
’ Naomi lifted out a precious stack of old 1990s magazines,
Q
,
Melody Maker
,
New Woman
,
her face bright with delight. ‘Oh, my God, I can’t believe you still have these! Are you really sure you don’t want them?’

‘I’ve got loads. I couldn’t keep all of them, and I knew you’d appreciate a bit of nostalgia. Maybe you can put them in storage for Willow. Bit of her mum’s past.’ Gina wasn’t joking. So much of her and Naomi’s teenage years had been spent poring over magazines together, in breaks, in the common room, in Naomi’s noisy kitchen at home. The music magazines in particular meant a lot to Gina: she’d never felt she belonged till she’d got into music, and suddenly the world outside had opened up. You didn’t need to wonder which people to try to make friends with if they were already wearing your favourite band’s tour T-shirt.

‘Just don’t eBay them, please,’ she added. ‘Not straight away, anyway.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Naomi was turning the pages reverentially. ‘This is bringing back so many memories. Oh, no! Look at the old Rimmel adverts . . . You are
amazing
. And what’s this?’ She reached into the bag and pulled out a black T-shirt, printed with a band logo that was still stiff. Naomi looked up. ‘Didn’t you buy one like this at that gig we went to in Oxford? The one where you met Kit? It’s not this one, is it?’ She sniffed the old cotton. ‘It smells like it’s brand new.’

‘It is.’ Gina stared at the T-shirt. It had felt right to pass it on last night when she’d put it into the bag, but now, seeing it in Naomi’s hands, she felt as if part of her past was slipping under the waters, vanishing as it left her home. She caught herself. This stuff had to go, and it was better that it went to someone who’d understand why she’d treasured it. ‘I bought two, in case one shrank in the wash, or Mum found out where we’d been and I never got to go to a gig again. That’s the spare.’

‘But where’s yours?’

‘I think I gave it to Kit.’

Naomi looked up, and her eyes were sad. ‘Oh, Gee. I can’t take this, then.’

‘No, I want you to.’ Gina hadn’t talked about Kit in a long time. Naomi was the only person she
could
talk to about him. ‘Keep it for Willow. I couldn’t wear it now – it’s way too small for me. It’d just go back in a drawer, and I need to be ruthless.’

She glanced away. The logo had hooked up a memory that had been stuffed at the back of her mind, hidden away like the T-shirt: Kit sprawled across an unmade single bed, sleeping off a late night in his blue-checked boxers and her T-shirt, his long arms thrown over his head, pulling the T-shirt up his flat stomach with its gentle curves and hollows. Gina had told herself to remember how perfect he looked.

It felt like a very long time ago, and her heart contracted at the freshness of the T-shirt print in Naomi’s hands.

‘No, listen, I’ll happily take the mags, but not this,’ said Naomi, seeing the change in Gina’s face. ‘I want
you
to keep it and give it to Willow when she’s old enough to appreciate what a cool godmother she’s lucky enough to have.’

Gina forced a smile, but the image wouldn’t go away. She wasn’t in it. That morning had happened to
her
, she’d
been
there, but now, even with this T-shirt as evidence, it was as if she was remembering a film she’d seen ages ago. Those mornings with Kit had felt like the beginning of something, the first steps along a long road they’d look back over together, and yet it had stopped, and now it was as if it had never actually happened. It would be the same with Stuart. All those expectations and assumptions, months and years, experiences and memories . . . gone.

Her stomach flipped as if she’d got too close to a sharp drop.

‘Where have the last few years gone, Naomi?’ she blurted out. ‘How are we suddenly this old?’

‘We’re not old, you daft cow,’ said Naomi. ‘We’re just getting started. Life isn’t meant to begin till forty, and that’s years off.’

‘But I feel old. I feel time’s going so fast and I don’t even know what I—’

‘We’re just getting started,’ Naomi repeated, more firmly. She reached across and took her hand, her eyes locking on Gina’s, full of concern and support and an unspoken understanding of all the things that made Gina feel suddenly exhausted whenever she forgot to concentrate on her fresh start. ‘There’s lots more time than you think. Promise.’

Gina managed a watery smile, and squeezed Naomi’s hand.

She didn’t need things to remind her of her past. Not when she had Naomi. Honest, sympathetic, practical Naomi.

When Naomi had left, Gina tidied up the cups and plates and, out of habit, went to put the beautiful scented candle in a cupboard somewhere, to keep for later. For best. For visitors.