The Last List of Mabel Beaumont(86)



I want to ask whether anything has happened with her family but, at the same time, I don’t want to push her. Julie has no such qualms, though.

‘Any plans to see your parents again?’

‘Yes, actually. I was going to say, that’s what Mabel’s bravery inspired me to do. Ben and I are going there for the weekend in a couple of weeks.’

‘Are you nervous about it?’ Patty asks.

‘Not really. I’ve been talking to them on the phone – both of them – and I think I got it wrong, about Tony. I think he’s a nice guy, and he makes Mum happy. I just wasn’t ready for her to move on so quickly. And Ben’s delighted, because he thought it was him I was ashamed of, and I had no idea. So I’m just going to take him home, let him get to know my family, and then we can finally get married.’

Dotty is fast asleep now, and Kirsty stands up carefully and takes her to the hallway to lay her down in her buggy.

‘That’s great,’ Patty says, when she returns. ‘So that’s a full house, Mabel.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean we’ve all found the courage to change something, to be honest about something, because of you.’

I don’t know what to say.





Later that evening, Erin and I are making beans on toast.

‘Sometimes,’ Erin says, ‘you can’t beat beans on toast.’

And I agree. I’m buttering the toast and she’s stirring the beans, and I remember all the times Arthur and I stood in this kitchen together, him doing one job and me doing another. I remember how he was always up for doing something, always joining things and offering his help and making small changes. And how I often thought those things were pointless, and that one person couldn’t do much to change the way things were. But now Patty has found a way to be happy without that happiness being tied to her daughter, and Julie has started the grieving process for her sister, and Kirsty is learning to let the people she loves get to know one another. And Dot is back in my life. And it's all because I decided to take a chance, to finally do something after all those years of saying no.

Erin is standing by the fridge. ‘Shall I grate some cheese to go on top?’ she asks.

‘Why not?’

I put the kettle on to boil, and when it starts its whistle, I take two mugs out of the cupboard, hold one up to Erin. She nods. She’s like me, never says no to a cup of tea. She’s learned how to make it just the way I like it. The way Arthur did.

At the table, eating our meal, Erin asks about Dot.

‘Will I be in the way, when she’s here? You two have so much to talk about.’

‘We do, but it will be fine.’

‘Just say the word, if you want me to give you some space. I can always go to my room, or out.’

I like that she calls it her room. I hope she always will. I realise this is probably as good a time as any to bring up the thing I’ve been mulling over.

‘Erin,’ I say.

She looks up, suddenly serious. She looks like she thinks I’m about to tell her I’m dying. ‘What is it?’

‘I just want you to know you’ll always have a home here. University holidays, after graduation, whenever.’

She lowers her head and when she lifts it again, I see that there are tears in her eyes.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ I say. ‘It’s just, I don’t want you to think you might have to go back there, to your family. Because you won’t.’

Does she see what I’m saying? It’s all signed and sealed. This house is hers, when I go. But is it too much, to actually spell that out, right now, over beans on toast? I don’t want her to think she has to show me endless gratitude. As far as I’m concerned, it just makes sense. I have this house, and I won’t need it for much longer, but she will.

‘Thank you,’ she says.

And it’s impossible to know whether she fully understands. Whether it will come as a shock when I die and she gets the call to tell her she’s a homeowner. I’m happy to leave it like that, for now.

‘Do you have plans with Hannah tonight?’

‘No,’ she says, frowning a little.

‘Trouble?’

‘No, nothing like that. It’s just that her parents are cracking down on her, saying she needs to get serious about her exams. And I do too, I suppose. So I’ll be shutting myself up in my room and trying to get all my dates in order for History.’

I nod. Think of us, our evening ahead. Me downstairs, her upstairs.

‘I’d be very happy to help. To test you, or something,’ I say. ‘I mean, I don’t know the things you know, but if you have books I can refer to…’

I trail off, but she’s grinning. ‘Would you?’

‘Of course.’

She crams the last piece of toast into her mouth and then disappears upstairs, returning with her arms loaded with heavy textbooks. And I don’t feel daunted by it, this offer I made, on a whim. I might learn something. And that’s a privilege, at my age. To change something, or learn something. To keep growing.





42





The morning Dot’s due to arrive, I can’t keep still. She said she’d be here at midday, and I wake at five, my heart heavy in my chest, as if it has too much love to hold. I go downstairs and put the kettle on, and something catches my eye through the window. A flash of green, poking out from behind one of my pots. I open the back door and go out there in my slippers. It’s a bone toy that Olly used to play with. I’ll drop it round to Kirsty’s next time I’m nearby.

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