you lost?’
Holly looked down at her body. Her tracksuit was sagging at the bum and the waist tie was pulled to its tightest, yet still drooped to her hips. She hadn’t noticed the weight loss at all.
She was brought back to reality by Sharon’s voice again: ‘There’s a few biscuits there to go with your tea. Jammie Dodgers, your favourite.’
That did it. This was all too much for Holly. The Jammie Dodgers were the icing on the cake. She felt the tears run down her face. ‘Oh, Sharon,’ she wailed, ‘thank you so much. You’ve been so good to me and I’ve been such a horrible, horrible bitch of a friend.’ She sat at the table and grabbed Sharon’s hand. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’ Sharon sat opposite her in silence, allowing her to continue. This is what Holly had been dreading, breaking down in front of people at every possible occasion. But she didn’t feel embarrassed. Sharon was just patiently sipping her tea and holding her hand like it was normal. Eventually the tears stopped falling.
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m your best friend, Hol; if I don’t help you then who will?’ Sharon said, squeezing her hand and giving her an encouraging smile.
‘Suppose I should be helping myself.’
‘Pah!’ Sharon spat, waving her hand dismissively. ‘Whenever you’re ready. Don’t mind all those people who say that you should be back to normal in a month. Grieving is all part of helping yourself, anyway.’
She always said the right things.
‘Yeah, well, I’ve been doing a lot of that. I’m all grieved out.’
‘You can’t be!’ said Sharon, mock disgusted. ‘And only a month after your husband is cold in his grave.’
‘Oh, stop! There’ll be plenty of that from people, though, won’t there?’
‘Probably, but screw them. There are worse sins in the world than learning to be happy again.’
‘Suppose.’
‘Promise me you’ll eat.’
‘Promise.’
‘Thanks for coming round, Sharon. I really enjoyed the chat,’ Holly said, gratefully hugging her friend. ‘I feel a lot better already.’
‘You know it’s good to be around people, Hol. Friends and family can help you. Well, actually, on second thoughts, maybe not your family,’ she joked, ‘but at least the rest of us can.’
‘Oh, I realise that now. I just thought I could handle it on my own at first.’
‘Promise me you’ll call round. Or at least get out of the house once in a while.’
‘Promise.’ Holly rolled her eyes. ‘You’re beginning to sound like my mum.’
‘We’re all just looking out for you. OK, see you soon,’ Sharon said, kissing her on the cheek, ‘and EAT!’ she added, poking her in the ribs.
Holly waved to Sharon as she pulled away in her car. It was nearly dark. They had spent the day laughing and joking about old times, then crying, followed by some more laughing, then more crying again. Sharon had given her perspective too. Holly hadn’t even thought about the fact that Sharon and John had lost their best friend, that her parents had lost their son-in-law and Gerry’s parents had lost their only son. She had just been so busy thinking about herself. It had been good being with the living again, instead of moping around with the ghosts of her past. Tomorrow was a new day and she intended on beginning it by collecting that envelope.
Chapter Four
Holly started her Friday morning well by getting up early. However, although she had gone to bed full of optimism, and excited about the prospects that lay ahead of her, she was struck afresh by the harsh reality of how difficult every moment would be. Once again she awoke in an empty bed to a silent house, but there was one small breakthrough. For the first time in over a month, she had woken up without the aid of a telephone call. She adjusted her mind, as she did every morning, to the fact that the dreams of her and Gerry being together, which had lived in her mind for the past ten hours, were just that: dreams.
She showered and dressed comfortably in her favourite blue jeans, trainers and a baby-pink T-shirt. Sharon had been right about her weight: her once-tight jeans were just about staying up with the aid of a belt. She made a face at her reflection in the mirror. She looked ugly. She had black circles under her eyes, her lips were chapped and chewed and her hair was a disaster. First thing to do was to go down to her local hairdressers and pray they could squeeze her in.
‘Jaysus, Holly!’ her stylist, Leo, exclaimed. ‘Would ya look at the state of ya! People, make way! Make way! I have a woman here in a critical condition!’ He winked at her and proceeded to push people from his path. He pulled out the chair for her and pushed her into it.
‘Thanks, Leo. I feel really attractive now,’ Holly muttered, trying to hide her beetroot-coloured face.
‘Well, don’t, ’cos you’re in bits. Sandra, mix me up the usual, Colin get the foil, Tania get me my little bag of tricks from upstairs – oh, and tell Will not to bother getting his lunch, he’s doing my twelve o’clock.’ Leo ordered everyone around, his hands flailing wildly as though he was about to perform emergency surgery. Perhaps he was.
‘Oh sorry, Leo, I didn’t mean to mess up your day.’
‘Of course you did, love. Why else would you come rushing in here at lunchtime on a Friday without an appointment? To help world peace?’
Holly guiltily bit her lip.
‘Ah, but I wouldn’t do it for anyone else but you, love.’
‘Thanks.’
‘How have you been?’ He rested his skinny little behind on the counter facing Holly. Leo must have been fifty years old yet he didn’t look a day over thirty. His honey-coloured hair matched his honey-coloured skin, and he always dressed so perfectly. He was enough to make any woman feel like crap.
‘Terrible.’
‘Yeah, you look it.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Ah well, at least by the time you walk out of here you’ll have one thing sorted. I do hair, not hearts.’
Holly smiled gratefully at his odd little way of showing he understood.
‘But, Jaysus, Holly, when you were coming in the door did you see the word “magician” or “hairdresser” on the front of the salon? You should have seen the state of the woman who came in here today. Mutton dressed as lamb. Not far off sixty, I’d say. Handed me a magazine with Jennifer Aniston on the cover. “I want to look like that,” she says.’
Holly laughed at his impression. He had the facial expression and the hand movements all going at the same time.
‘“Jaysus,” I says, “I’m a hairdresser, not a plastic surgeon. The only way you’ll look like that is if you cut out the picture and staple it
