The Day She Came Back(9)

‘Come on, my darling, I have come to take you home.’

‘She . . . she’s . . .’

‘I know.’ The woman nodded, stifling her own tears. ‘I know.’





TWO

Just breathe . . . just keep breathing . . . in and out . . . in and out . . . her face . . . her face was . . . Victoria was lost in her own interior monologue, only vaguely aware of Daksha sitting on the wide arm of the chair holding her hand. I could have got home quicker if I hadn’t walked . . . If I hadn’t been hanging around trying to impress some stupid boy . . . I could have just . . . I don’t remember if I made her the cup of tea she wanted, did I do it or did I just put the kettle on? Can’t remember. I hope I did. I’m sorry, Prim . . . sorry I wasn’t with you . . .

‘What can I get you, Victoria?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I said, what can I get you, love?’ Daksha’s mum asked from the doorway of the Joshis’ neat sitting room.

Victoria jumped, in the way you might when you fall in a dream and are about to hit the floor or when you think there is one more step then there actually is. This, coupled with the fact that recognising the kind lady had taken a fraction of a second longer than it should. Her brain, fogged with shock, had quite forgotten where she was and why.

‘Nothing, thank you. I’m okay,’ she lied, sitting upright in the chair and looking at the rounded cream leather sofa where Daksha’s brothers and sister sat neatly in a row, all watching her as if she were some kind of spectacle.

‘You don’t look okay. You have had a very big shock, darling. Can I get you a cup of tea?’ the woman coaxed. Victoria realised it was easier to accept and put a stop to the questioning, which irritated, no matter how well intentioned.

Victoria nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘You must stay here tonight, love. You must stay here for as long as you need. Don’t worry about a thing. Not a thing. Daksha’s dad is sorting everything out at the house and you can just stay here and try and get some sleep.’

Sorting what out? What happens now? Where is she? I feel like I should be with her . . .

‘I . . . I think I’d rather go home,’ she whispered, unable to bear the thought of Prim, or indeed Rosebank, abandoned. This thought was immediately followed by the sinking feeling that there was only her now to protect it and that she would live there alone.

I can’t do it! I can’t! I don’t want to!

Mrs Joshi shook her head, ‘No, no, not tonight. Tomorrow maybe, but tonight you need to be here with us, not alone. Let us look after you.’

The woman walked forward and kissed her fingertips, before placing them on Victoria’s cheek, something alien to her, not that she cared. She didn’t care about much. Numb. Cold. Confused, and only able to see the image of Prim’s face, her head tilted to one side, eyes staring . . .

‘Shall we go upstairs? You can sleep in with me.’ Daksha spoke softly.

Victoria stood and felt the three pairs of eyes follow her progress from the room as she silently trailed behind Daksha up the staircase of the pristine, modern house where ornaments were minimal, gadgetry excessive, art small and all surfaces painted white. It was a lovely family space and yet so very different to the homely clutter of Rosebank. She sat on the edge of the bed while Daksha pulled open a drawer and handed her a pair of pale pink cotton pyjamas. It was then that Victoria realised how cold she was; her teeth chattered and her skin goosebumped, despite the warmth of the summer night.

‘It’ll be okay, Vic. I promise.’ Daksha palmed circles on her back as she put the pyjamas on.

‘I don’t think it will.’ Her voice carried the croak of fatigue and sadness. ‘I really don’t think it will. Prim was all I had. She was . . . she was my whole family.’

Victoria saw a montage of images in her head, all of them placing her by Prim’s side: in the garden planting or in the kitchen cooking supper, nattering as they seasoned a sauce or pausing to listen to something of interest on the radio. ‘I love her. I love her so much. I have never had a day in my whole life that I haven’t seen her. I can’t imagine what that will be like.’

‘She was wonderful, your gran. One in a million, but she was old and—’

Victoria fired a look at her friend that stopped her mid-speech.

‘Don’t tell me how it was to be expected or that she had a good innings. Please don’t do that.’

Daksha nodded and pulled back the duvet, guiding her friend between the clean, crisp bed linen as if it were her who was elderly or infirm.

Victoria laid her head on the unfamiliar pillow and took comfort from the feel of her best friend, who spooned in behind her. Grateful for the silence, this was all she needed, the physical closeness, the feel of a heartbeat reassuring her that she was not alone even if she felt it. Even Daksha, who was trying her best, she knew, had no concept of what it might be like to be truly alone. For her friend to find herself in the same situation: six of her immediate family members would have to die, as well as countless cousins, aunts, uncles . . . and that was before she got to great-aunts, great-uncles and second and third cousins. Victoria had only had Prim and Grandpa, and then just Prim and now no one. It was a thought that left her feeling both hollow and afraid.

I don’t know what to do . . . I don’t know what to think . . . I didn’t think about this day, not really . . . I knew it would come, but I didn’t expect it, not yet . . .