‘I’m glad we’ve cleared the air,’ I said. ‘But sad it needed doing.’
‘Ditto,’ said Laura. ‘And I promise if we go to that spa again, I’ll even go hula-hooping with you.’
‘Deal.’ I grinned and we both laughed at Hamish’s startled face.
‘And now we’re going to clear Freddie’s room,’ he said, clapping his hands together. ‘Because that’s another thing which needs doing.’
I blinked at him. ‘Right now?’
‘Yep.’ He handed us mugs and strode purposefully out into the hallway and up the staircase.
‘No time like the present,’ said Laura, grabbing my hand. ‘Before you have a chance to talk yourself out of it again.’
Scamp, excited by such unusual activity, danced ahead of us.
My pulse speeded up as Hamish paused outside Freddie’s closed door. He was right; I’d been avoiding this job for months. And doing it spontaneously meant that I wouldn’t have time to think about it.
He looked at me steadily. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ I said gruffly.
Laura’s comforting hand squeezed my waist.
Hamish twisted the doorknob, the heart of my brother’s domain opened up and a tremor of emotion rippled through me. Laura and I followed him inside. She snapped on the light and Hamish crossed to the window to close the curtains.
It was cold in here; the radiator had been turned off and both Laura and I shivered.
The leather and aftershave and engine oil that had made up my brother’s unique scent still lingered.
‘It smells like he’s still here,’ I murmured, turning around to see everything.
His double bed had been stripped and the duvet and pillows had been piled at one end of the mattress. Mum had done it the week of the funeral, before I’d begged her to leave the rest of his room intact. The magnetic board above his desk had overlapping layers of notes and ticket stubs and photographs pinned to it; a row of battered trainers formed a border underneath the window. A wardrobe, some drawers and a bookshelf, all crammed with Freddie’s possessions, possessions which I’d never in a million years have rifled through without his permission.
I felt dizzy thinking about it. Laura appeared back at my side.
‘You OK?’
‘Not really,’ I said, with a ghost of a smile. ‘Maybe we’ll just do one drawer tonight if you don’t mind?’
‘I’ll go and find bin bags from the kitchen,’ said Hamish and bounded back out of the room.
The thought of piling Freddie’s things into a bin bag stole the breath from my lungs. I sat down heavily on the chair at his desk. Suddenly I just wanted this over with as quickly as possible. Scamp slunk in and after investigating the only room in the house he’d never been in, he flopped down at my feet. By the time Hamish had returned with a roll of bin bags, Laura and I had pulled out the bottom drawer of Freddie’s desk and were staring into it.
‘On the basis that the bottom one has the least interesting stuff in it, this seemed like a good place to start,’ I said.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Laura cheerfully. ‘Shall we make piles to keep?’
I made a face. ‘Keeping things is easy, it’s choosing what to get rid of which will hurt.’
‘We shouldn’t find anything of great importance,’ Hamish said, tearing a black sack from the roll. ‘I’ve already dealt with his financial stuff and passport, etcetera.’
‘But it’s all important,’ I replied, gazing at the melee of loose photographs, countless pens and keyrings and at least three torches. ‘Because it’s all I have left of Freddie.’
Hamish winced. ‘Yeah, ’course. I didn’t mean … I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant,’ I said, sighing. ‘This is just hard, you know? Letting go. And being in here seems such an invasion.’
Laura’s hand found mine. ‘I felt the same when Mum died. Listen to your heart and if you don’t feel ready, we’ll walk away and do it another day.’
I nodded, grateful for her experience. Her mum had passed away only weeks before our university graduation ceremony and her dad had gone to pieces for a while, leaving Laura to deal with the arrangements.
My fingers found a small box, I pulled it out and removed the lid to reveal a pair of silver cufflinks. Freddie was a T-shirt, jeans and leathers man; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him in a suit.
‘They’re gorgeous,’ whispered Laura.
‘I remember those, I had a matching pair,’ said Hamish. ‘For a mate’s wedding. All the ushers had the same ones. I lost one of mine.’
‘Then take these.’ I handed him the box quickly as if it was scorching my fingers. ‘He’d be pleased about that. And you’re more of a cufflinks man than he ever was.’
A sharp pang twisted at my insides, threatening to drag me back to the darkness of grief.
Freddie would never get married in a suit wearing silver cufflinks, he would never turn to watch the girl of his dreams walking down the aisle to meet him, would never do all of the things that Hamish no doubt would achieve so easily in the years to come. And the sheer waste of his beautiful life stung.
‘I’ll treasure them.’ He tipped them out and turned them over in his hand, twisting his mouth into a smile. ‘Laura says I look hot in a suit. I’ve bought two new ones since our first date.’
‘Have you!’ Laura gasped with embarrassment and covered her cheeks. ‘That is so sweet!’
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about their first date but I held back. It would be something she and I could giggle about over a glass of wine one night.
‘A word of warning; Laura also thinks Spiderman’s hot,’ I said. ‘If she starts talking about all-in-one Lycra bodysuits, run for the hills.’
Hamish and I teased Laura for blushing and I felt the first hopeful shoots; maybe them being a couple wouldn’t be as bad as I thought after all.
‘So far we’ve removed only one item and the bin bag is still empty,’ said Laura. ‘I think we’re going to have to be a little more ruthless.’
For the next few minutes, we delved through the bottom desk drawer and managed to clear it out, salvaging only a university keyring which Hamish wanted to keep and a pen with four coloured inks in it which Laura said would be handy for work. Scamp had shown an interest when we’d uncovered half a biscuit but I’d quickly disposed of it before he could snaffle it; goodness knows how long it had been there.
Laura and I both eyed the middle drawer of the three while Hamish stuffed the rejected items into the black bag.
‘Only if you’re up to it,’ she said.
I puffed my cheeks out and opened the drawer. ‘If not now, then when, as the saying goes.’
At first glance the contents seemed similar to the last drawer: a mishmash of things which, although not obviously important, clearly were important enough to Freddie to warrant drawer space.
Underneath a pile of leaflets that Freddie had had printed when he’d first started as a motorbike instructor was a small hardback notebook. It had lots of pieces of paper slipped between the pages. I lifted it out and Hamish’s eyes widened.