When you're ready

The book display in this place is a bloody shambles. Half of them are piled on top of each other on a table, with no thought whatsoever. The rest are just plonked in randomly on the bookcase with no concept of alphabet or genre or anything. Like this for example: Dickens, Great Expectations sitting next to Terry Pratchett; Unbelievable. It’s a wonder they sell any books at all.

I look round and see Jenny still at the counter, talking away to some woman who has made herself up to look like a panda. How long is this going to take?

I run my fingers through the collection of LP’s and come to a record by Glenn Miller and his orchestra. As I take it from the pile, little specks of dust float into the air. The record has all the classics on it: Jukebox Saturday Night, That Old Black Magic, Moon Love; it really takes me back. Wonderful music and a real favourite of our Bandmaster, old Sergeant Major Clough

I remember the night I first saw Pat. The Band was performing for the Officers Mess at a black tie dinner, playing our show tunes. She was just sixteen, the date of some greasy- haired young toff who probably made it all the way to General on handshakes alone. As we played, my eyes wandered from the sheet music at the end of my trumpet, drawn to her as she danced with the young officer. I knew I would have to talk to her, though it would be some months before I finally got the chance. The way she moved: so graceful and assured, and yet so innocent, as though unaware of how beautiful she was.

I put the record back, take a deep breath and try to unravel the knot in my throat. The air is so stifling in here and what is that smell? Stale and yet tangy, I can feel it clawing at the back of my throat. I move over to the counter and hover behind Jenny. With a quiet cough I catch her attention.

‘Hey Dad, sorry to keep you waiting, Lynn here was an old friend of Mum’s, we were just catching up’.

‘Yes I knew Pat from the bible group down at St. Barnabas,’ says this Lynn woman, ‘We were all very sad to hear of her passing.’

I give her a thin smile and mumble a word of thanks. Pat never seemed very keen on the women at that bible group and I don’t recall any of them visiting her at the end.

As her and my daughter “catch up”, this Lynn woman casually rifles through the bags we have brought in. I watch her as she paws at my wife’s clothing, picking out certain items that take her fancy and holding them up against her body. She looks down over herself and tries to catch her reflection on the glass counter.

She picks out a red dress. I cannot believe what I am seeing. I didn’t realise Jenny would be so ruthless. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has given away the ruby necklace that went with that dress as well.

‘Oh my, this is gorgeous.’ says Lynn. She looks at me with her head tilted to one side, a stupid sad little smile on her face, ‘Your wife certainly had taste.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say, ‘but that shouldn’t be in there.’ I put my hands out for the woman to pass over the dress. She looks down at it and sighs.

‘Are you sure dear,’ her eyebrows drooping and lashes fluttering, ‘I mean, it’s not like you’re going to get much wear out of it.’

I look to Jenny for help. It was her idea to do this, her insistence that it was time to let go, time to say goodbye. She puts her hand on my shoulder. ‘Maybe she’s right dad. It’s been over a year now, remember what we talked about.’

I do not want to enter into a row with my daughter now, in this shop, in front of this woman. I brush Jenny’s hand away and snatch the dress from the woman’s clutches. She gasps and brings her hands in front of her face.

I hug the dress, bringing it into my chest, breathing its scent. ‘I’m sorry but some things are just too precious to ever want to say goodbye to.’

I turn and walk towards the door. I stop and look back to the counter, ‘Jenny I will be waiting in the car, when you’re ready.’