If Miss Havisham had made it to her wedding night, I reckon this is what the room would’ve looked like.’ Sophie said, making to step into the room more fully, then thinking better of it.
‘I didn’t have you down as a literature lover.’
Sophie scowled at her. ‘I might be temporarily indisposed, but I’m not thick. I read.’ She prodded at a pile of abandoned clothing with her foot. ‘Bloody hell, where d’you start?’
‘Here.’ Edie said, leading her across the landing and into Beattie’s small, cell like room. ‘It’s not so messy, but it is damp and the wardrobe needs clearing and there is a bit of junk that could do with sorting. It might be worth stripping that bed and giving the mattress a good airing, I’ll buy a cover for it later, I’m not sure what state it’s in. Once it’s cleared you can sleep in here.’
Sophie looked around the small room, a look of considered approval on her face. ‘Ta,’ was all she said, though she accompanied it with a nod of satisfaction. ‘So what do you want me to do with the stuff?’
‘Anything that is obviously rubbish, just throw. Her clothes can go in bags for the textile recycling, I can’t imagine any charity shop wanting them and I can’t for a minute think that there would be much call for fancy dress where crimplene and nylon are concerned. My grandmother wasn’t exactly a natty dresser. Anything you think might be important – photos, document and the like – put in a box and I’ll go through them later.’
Sophie nodded. ‘Righto boss. Ummm, I don’t suppose you’ve got any more of those painkillers have you? I hurt my ribs and they’re playing me up like a bastard.’
Edie fished in her pocket for the ibuprofen she had bought that morning with the breakfast goods. ‘Here, I got these. You’re really not going to be up to much, are you? Not in this state anyway.’
Sophie flapped a hand at her. ‘No worries, I’ll be right in a mo. I’ve had worse. Not saying I’m up for moving furniture like, but I can manage to chuck shite in bin bags.’
Edie passed her the medication, wondering at the wisdom of leaving someone who she hardly knew, who regarded other people’s belongings as ‘shite’ (and who, if profanity were removed from the language would have very little to say) in charge of clearing out Beattie’s room. She shook the thought off. It wasn’t as if she could really afford to care what happened to the contents of the house, as long as they were cleared and she could leave – it didn’t really matter what anyone did with her grandmother’s belongings. ‘Well, as long as you’re sure?’ she said.
‘Oh stop fussing will ya? Bugger off and go shopping, I’ll have this place sorted in no time.’ Sophie said, gazing casually at the plain contents of the small room.
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