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9

Charlotte

‘I have wine,’ Kelly said, coming in through the front door. ‘And I’ve changed my sweater, so my shoulders are clean and ready to be cried on. It’s sinking in, isn’t it? About your grandmother? It’s okay, Charlotte. You know you can tell me.’

Charlotte stared at her. Kelly, her best friend since they were fifteen, when they had been the only two junior players in the local badminton club that Grandma had started, was watching her with one thick eyebrow raised. Polar opposites in practically every way: Charlotte light and fragile, Kelly broad-shouldered enough to have joined her university’s powerlifting team; Charlotte naturally blonde, her hair forever short, Kelly’s jet black, falling to the middle of her back, suiting the metal band t-shirts she loved that Charlotte wouldn’t be seen dead in. Charlotte liked shopping for shoes and skirts, Kelly for limited edition vinyl records from the seventies and for accessories to attach somewhere to the motorcycle which terrified Charlotte with its very existence.

‘It’s not so much the sinking in, but all the old memories it’s dredging up,’ Charlotte said. ‘You’ll never guess what I found underneath the wardrobe.’

‘A lost Black Sabbath album from 1970?’

‘Ah, no. Come in. I’ll show you.’

She led Kelly through to the living room, where she’d pulled the coffee table across in front of the sofa and put the shoebox down on top, a coaster on each side for their drinks. She’d even pulled across a floor lamp, preparing everything for the grand opening.

‘What’s this?’

‘Her … stuff. The memory box. Is that what you’d call it?’

‘I’d go with odds and sods box, but I think memory box is quaint. What is it, baby pics?’

Charlotte lifted the lid and took out the first photo. ‘My parents,’ she said.

‘Oh. Right. I think it might be a good time to open the wine, don’t you? If we’re going where I think we’re going, we might as well go full speed, mightn’t we?’

Charlotte gave Kelly a grim smile. ‘For sure.’

‘You’ll need a fresh tissue box, too.’

‘I have a towel.’

‘That’ll do.’

‘Do you think there’s anything about … the crash?’

‘There might be. If there is, it’ll be in here. Grandma never talked about it unless I asked, and then she always glossed over it. I looked it up online once, but couldn’t find anything. Just too long ago for the internet to have a record. I’m sure it was in the papers, and I could probably find details in the library if I really wanted to, but … I’m not sure I ever really wanted to know.’ She forced a smile. ‘I doubt it’ll improve my day.’

Kelly squeezed her shoulder. ‘Definitely time for the wine.’

By her own admission, Charlotte lived on the crest of an emotional wave, and after a few pictures and half a glass of wine, the tears had begun to flow.

‘My mother, my father, and that baby must be me,’ Charlotte said, pointing to a grainy picture of a family standing outside Bristol Zoo. ‘My mum looks so much like Grandma, doesn’t she? The worst thing is that I have no memory of this day. None. I mean, Bristol Zoo’s not even there anymore, is it?’

‘I think they moved it and named it something else,’ Kelly said. ‘My cousin Debbie went there a couple of months ago. She said the ticket prices were astronomical.’ With a grin, she added, ‘She said she’s taking a stepladder next time, and going over the fence.’

‘And this one … this is literally the back garden. Right out there. I can’t remember this one either. That’s my mum pulling up weeds. The flowerbed’s still there. Is that the hydrangea? I had no idea it was that old.’

‘You can’t remember anything of them at all?’

‘Nothing. I was three when they died. All I remember … my earliest memory … is the crash.’

Kelly looked away. Over the years Charlotte had told a couple of people about that night, but it always made them uncomfortable. The tears were coming again, rising up, but she was still a little wine short. She lifted her glass and took another sip.

‘Oh, look at this,’ Kelly said, pulling out a newspaper clipping. ‘This is from the day after, isn’t it?’

‘Two days. There was no paper on Christmas Day back then.’

Kelly put the clipping down on the table. Boxing Day, 1999. A week before the millennium, two days after Charlotte’s life had been destroyed.