Page 4 of Summer in Greece

Eve hooted with laughter. ‘Not the dreamboat I’d imagine between your sheets.’ She did a little shudder. ‘Have you joined that dating agency yet?’

‘Oh, stop it!’ Shelly rolled her eyes. ‘I filed the brochure in the kitchen bin, where it belongs. Talking of romance, we’ve got three cat neuters this morning, better crack on, so to speak. If you prep the anaesthetics, I’ll shave them and do the job once they’re under the influence. That leaves you, Miss Glamour-nails, free to man the counter and do the paperwork. OK?’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Both women set about their respective jobs until Eve broke the silence. ‘Anyway, I thought your cottage had three bedrooms. Couldn’t Bill Grundy sleep in the other one?’

‘It’s full of junk. Dad’s become a bit of a hoarder since Mum died. That’s not a bad idea, though. I might tell him I’ll go on holiday if he lets me clear his rubbish out of the spare room, so that Bill can sleep there.’

‘Get someone in to do it; those house clearance people.’

‘Ha! He’d have a hissy fit! Besides, Mum’s clothes are still in the wardrobe. I don’t know how he’d feel about getting rid of them and, to be honest, I’ll find it pretty hard myself.’

Eve raised her head. ‘Sorry, really thoughtless of me. But I could come around this weekend and we’ll do it together. And you’ll owe me a pub lunch, right?’

‘Thanks, you’re very kind, but I’ll get around to it, honestly.’

‘Listen, Shelly, I don’t mean to be blunt, but you’ve had more than twenty years.’

Shelly slumped into a chair. ‘I don’t know where the time’s gone, Eve. I should move on, I know it, but I can’t seem able to let go. The truth is, I don’t want to . . . I’m still hanging on to every memory.’

Eve frowned, sat beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Shelly, come on. Is this about more than your mother’s clothes? Please don’t tell me you’re still blaming yourself . . . you were sixteen!’

Remaining silent, Shelly went to the sink and scrubbed her hands viciously.

‘Perhaps you should talk about it?’ Eve said. ‘You know I’m always here for you.’

Shelly peered into Eve’s eyes, opened her mouth to speak, but felt tears rise. She wanted to talk about it, to tell those close to her what had really happened that awful year, the whole story from beginning to end. It had shredded her life and made any future relationship impossible, simply because she could never forgive them; never forgive herself. Never.

She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, really.’

Eve sighed. ‘OK, say no more, but I will be around on Sunday to sort that bedroom. We’ll photograph everything too, just for the memories. Scrapbooking, you know? And then I’m starting on you, madam. Hairdressers, nail salon, and some new clothes, right?’

‘Thanks, but really, I’ve got better things to do with my money.’

‘Shelly Summer, you’ve no right depriving the world of that beautiful woman you’re hiding! Come on, what do you say? Just do it to please me, then we’ll go out for a meal and a drink for my birthday.’

Shelly frowned. ‘Your birthday’s in October.’

‘So what? You’ll be early for once.’

‘Bollocks . . .’ Shelly said, then laughed. ‘And if we don’t move ourselves, the owners will return to find the cats still have theirs.’

Eve giggled. ‘OK, I get it, change the subject, but I’m not giving up,’ she promised.

*

Shelly and Eve became friends in school but lost touch when Eve studied in Liverpool and Shelly at Oxford. They became partners in the veterinary business, and got on tremendously well. Quite remarkable for two opposite people.

Eve was all glamour and high-maintenance. She would never admit to being past thirty-five, and due to the Botox, hyaluronic acid, lash and nail extensions and laser treatments, she looked less than thirty. She knew every new exercise regime, diet, and fashion trend, and had built-in radar for detecting wealthy, handsome men from a hundred metres.

Shelly, on the other hand, was not interested in her looks, men, or fashion. Shelly was an achiever. She collected skills, certificates, and awards like Eve collected lipsticks and perfumes.

*

That evening, when her father had gone to bed, Shelly opened the door of the spare room and surveyed the contents. There were boxes everywhere. It seemed like a mammoth task but if she did one box each evening, six would be gone by Sunday. She lifted a large shoe box off the Lloyd Loom bedside cabinet, took it downstairs, and used a damp cloth to wipe away a thick layer of dust. That box would do to start with. Probably full of rubbish for the bin.

She lifted the lid, puzzled by the contents at first, then she recognised the ancient cassette player and collection of tapes. It had belonged to her great-grandmother, Gran Gertie. The tapes were labelled THE MEMOIRS OF GERTIE SMITH: TAPE 1,2, and so on.

She plugged it in, loaded cassette one, and pressed play.