Surely everyone wants what she had? The trappings of success to greet you when you come home at night, reminding you that it was all worth it. The air smells clean and fragrant and almost pure, and if the house seems a little soulless, then it’s because that’s what made Aunt Daisy happy. Yes, she would have a very clear mind living here where she could relax in comfort after a hard day making even more money and not have anyone moaning to disrupt her inner calm.
Mum comes up behind me and says softly, “Shall we all take a room each?”
Nodding, I think about the reason we’re here at all. Dad decided that we should remove any items of value or personal interest while the house is standing empty. Until the Will is read, we don’t know who benefits from Aunt Daisy’s passing and he is concerned thieves may be aware she has died and break in one night. I agreed to help, but now I’m here, I wish I hadn’t. It doesn’t feel right to be looking through her private possessions, when she isn’t even buried yet.
Mum puts her arm around me. “It’s what she would have wanted, love. Don’t feel bad. Surely she would want us to keep her valuables safe for whoever she left them to. Now, I’ll take the kitchen, dad’s doing the study and you can start upstairs if you like? Maybe her bedroom is the best place to begin.”
As she walks away, I wish I had the kitchen. It wouldn’t feel as personal as delving through her drawers and rifling through her clothes. Some may still have the lingering trace of Chanel number 5 on them, which I will always associate with her. She adored it and sprayed it liberally whenever she could.
Then, I realise the real reason I’m so reluctant is because she died in her bedroom. Just the thought of her lying in bed alone and hopefully asleep when it happened, gives me the shivers. What if her spirit still lingers between Heaven and Earth? What if she’s watching me now and is angry that we’re invading her personal space like this?
It's almost too much to bear, and I can feel a panic attack coming on and almost give up before I even start. However, there’s also the part of me that relishes some form of contact with the woman I admired so much. Just the smell of her perfume, or seeing a familiar outfit, will bring her back to me. I wasn’t prepared to never see her again when she left after lunch two Sundays ago. Maybe I would have said things that mattered, instead of whining on about being single at thirty. Aunt Daisy never whined. She never complained and approached life with a can-do attitude. She was amazing in every way, and I can’t believe I’ll never see her again.
As I venture into her freakishly large bedroom, the scent hits me as I knew it would. Tears spring to my eyes and as I brush them away, I can almost hear her saying in the gentle tone she always used around me, “No need to cry, honey, what’s done is done. Don’t dwell on things you can’t change and concentrate instead on the ones you can.”
Ok, she was talking at the time about that creep I was dating who turned out to be married with kids, but the principle is the same.
Moving across to her dressing table, I decide to start there because I just can’t face the prospect of feeling the fabric of her clothes. Taking each of the drawers in turn, I empty the contents and go through them, checking for items of jewellery or anything of value. The rest I place back where it was because whoever gets this place can deal with it when it happens.
I almost feel like one of the thieves they fear as I place items of jewellery into the soft bag I found inside one of the drawers. It appears that Aunt Daisy had a keen eye because the items she bought are exquisite. Beautiful rings, bracelets and necklaces glitter in their velvet-lined drawers. Designer watches nestle proudly inside a watch winder as they wait to be selected to match a certain outfit. There is none of the rubbish, bits of fluff, or sweet wrappers that sit inside my drawers at home. These are kept immaculate and I feel ashamed at my own dirty ways.
It doesn’t take long before I move to the walk-in wardrobe and gasp with pleasure at the array of clothing hanging in colour matched blocks, looking as if they have never been worn. A soft pile cream carpet is pure heaven beneath my feet, and the drawers of cashmere jumpers and silky underwear bring out the girlie girl inside me. Shelves upon shelves of amazing shoes and handbags tempt me, and glittering evening gowns twinkle from the furthest corners as the spotlights pick out the sparkle woven into the fabric.
This is every woman’s dream and suddenly I understand Aunt Daisy and her choices in life because who wouldn’t want this life of luxury?
Leaving most things untouched, I concentrate on the highest shelves where there are big white boxes tied with satin ribbon. Inside are various personal items, and as I take the first one down, I sit on her bed and start sifting through. I’m amazed to see one is full of photographs and spend a large amount of time looking through them, enjoying seeing Aunt Daisy’s life in glorious colour before my eyes. She has been everywhere it seems and the snapshot of a well-travelled life, makes me determined to do the same. Exotic locations and beautiful sandy beaches show Aunt Daisy laughing at the camera, usually with a brightly coloured cocktail in her hand. It strikes me that there is never anyone else in the picture. Just her and I wonder about the people who took them. Were they strangers she asked to immortalise the moment for her, or did she travel with a willing companion we never got to meet?
I am so engrossed in my task, I don’t realise how long we’ve been here until my mother shouts from the doorway, “Do you fancy a cuppa, darling? Dad thinks his throat’s been cut. I think there’s some milk, but I can’t be sure if it’s turned or not. Come down if you fancy it but be warned, you may have to take it black.”
Shaking myself, I look around the room with a new resolve. Yes, I want this. I want what she had – all of it. This has confirmed that I was always meant to live this life. I’m glad I came because it’s given me the reassurance I need.
As I finish up, I glance around and think I’ve covered most of it. Maybe I should start on the guest room next. Turning to place the boxes back on the shelves, I notice a small notebook laying on the highest shelf preventing me from sliding the box back. Grabbing the nearby chair, I jump on it to retrieve the notebook and as I feel the soft leather in my hands, my curiosity wins over any cup of tea. Once again, I sit on the bed and open the book, loving the rich coloured cream paper with gold edging. I’ve always loved a good notebook and this is the stuff of dreams.
I hear my mum calling and hastily place the book in my bag and head off to see what they’re up to downstairs.
♥6
Just as I reach the last step, the doorbell rings and mum rushes out of the kitchen looking resigned. “That’ll be nanny and granddad. They said they’d stop by and help.” She rolls her eyes. “Hinder more like. You know, we’ll get on far better if we were just left alone, this is all I need.”
She mutters under her breath as she answers the door and as I see my grandparents standing there, it brings a lump to my throat because I have never seen them looking so frail. The grief is etched in every line and wrinkle on their faces and they appear to have aged ten years since I last saw them.
Nan’s eyes fill with tears as she steps into my mum’s arms and breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t help but join in because this scene is devastating. Dad ventures out of the study and shouts loudly, “Now, now, Daisy wouldn’t want this. Come on, let’s leave those tears outside and remember happier times.”