Page 56

Chapter 56

February 2011

The red front door of number 27 is propped open with a curling stone.

Georgia knocks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before stepping inside.

‘Hazel?’ she shouts.

‘It’s just me.’

A tall, slim woman appears from the kitchen.

‘Georgia. I’m so glad you could come.

As you can see, we are in a state of disarray.

’ A dozen boxes are stacked up against the staircase wall, and four suitcases are set beside them.

‘Two more days left here, and then we’ll be off.

’ Hazel holds up her hand to stop Georgia responding.

‘I’ll be sorry to leave and I’m going to miss you, but I want to be in the old place while I can still enjoy it.

I need to be able to get out onto the beach and paddle in the waves.

’

Georgia laughs. ‘In February?’

‘Yes, of course in February. When we were young it was the rule that you put your fingers or toes in the water every single day, no matter what the weather was like.’

‘You’re made of hardier stuff than me.

’

‘So it would seem! Now come along through to the back and I’ll get us a coffee.

There’s something I want to give you.

’

The house is a mirror image of number 25, the other half of the semi-detached pair.

It will be very odd indeed for it to be unoccupied, thinks Georgia.

Unlike Georgia’s own house, Hazel’s home has been gutted and little remains of the original kitchen.

The standard issue 1900s fitted kitchen dresser is gone, and has been replaced by an enormous fridge freezer and a wall of sleek high-gloss units.

Georgia cannot imagine how Hazel and Stan can possibly need all this storage space.

It’s not as though they need to stock food for ten people.

The previous owner was a builder who had stripped everything out and built a sunny extension with inset ceiling lights and triple sliding doors out to the back garden.

Lovely, thought Georgia, if you like that sort of home-interiors-magazine look, but the noise and the dust had gone on for almost a year.

Hazel drops a coffee pod into the shiny stainless-steel contraption which is built into the row of cupboards.

‘Cappuccino?’ She puts a mug beneath the spout of the machine without waiting for an answer.

It hums for a moment in a very smooth Italian fashion and the scent of fresh coffee starts to swirl around the room.

‘It’s funny how you and I always sit in the kitchen even though there’s the rest of the house to play in.

’

‘I’m the same next door.

’

‘Stan tells me you’re getting a lodger?

’

‘I am. And she has a dog.’

‘I confess I’m surprised, not so much about the dog but about you doing it at all.

’

‘So am I, to be honest. You never met any of my young women because all that was before you moved in, and the less said about the last one the better. I really don’t want to revisit that particular episode.

’

‘Understandable. Let’s talk about something else.

’ Hazel places the mug of froth and coffee on the breakfast bar in front of Georgia.

She takes a small box from her pocket and puts it down next to the coffee.

She splays her fingers out on the granite worktop.

‘My fingers are useless. Look at them, all puffy from the lymphedema. I’ll not be wearing my rings again.

’

‘Your rings?’

‘I’m keeping my wedding ring and my engagement ring, of course – perhaps the undertaker will be able to fit them on my finger after I’m gone – but I thought you might like this one.

’ She opens the little box.

‘I found it when I was clearing things out. I hope it fits.’

The box is lined with silk and embossed with the very Edinburgh name of Hamilton & Inches, the poshest jeweller on George Street.

But the ring inside is certainly not the sort of thing such a grand establishment would sell.

It’s a circle of unpolished metal.

‘It’s not much, so if you don’t want it, I won’t be offended.

’ Hazel is apologetic.

‘I’ve had it a long time, but it’s just brass.

There’s the outer channel, and the inner ring slides around it, like a racetrack.

I used to wear it all the time, before my hands got impossible.

It was my thinking ring.

If I had a problem, I would find myself twirling the inner ring around and around and it seemed to help.

’

‘A bit like a set of worry beads?’ Georgia slips the ring onto the middle finger of her right hand, but it’s too tight.

She swaps it onto her third finger and it fits.

Her hands are not swollen, as Hazel’s are.

Hazel smiles. ‘I’m sure it would polish up with a bit of Brasso.

’

Georgia rolls the central ring around in its channel with her thumb.

‘Or just by wearing it. I’m not one for fancy rings and jewellery really, they just get in the way of whatever I’m doing, but this is .

.?. well, it’s very kind of you.

’

‘Good. That’s settled then.

My pendants and things are going to my friend in York, but I wanted you to have the ring.

’ She looks down at her flattened chest. ‘You’ve been so helpful with everything.

And I thought you would see the value, rather than the price tag. ’