Page 4 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop

LARS

‘We’re loaded up now,’ Mick the removals man told us a couple of hours later. ‘Ready when you are.’

I glanced at Nanna, who was standing by the fireplace, gazing into the empty grate. ‘Can you give us five minutes, Mick? Maybe ten?’

‘No worries. Take your time. It’s not like we’ve got far to go.’

Mick was Hilary’s great-nephew. He’d moved Hilary into her apartment a fortnight ago and Geraldine last week so Nanna was the last of the three friends to make the big move.

‘How are you feeling, Nanna?’ I asked.

She turned round with a sigh. ‘It’s hard to believe that I’ve lived here for sixty-three years.

I sometimes can’t remember what I had for breakfast but I clearly remember the first night Norman and I spent here.

We’d massively pushed ourselves to buy this place so we had nothing left for furniture – not even second hand.

Everything was borrowed or donated. The electrics didn’t work and the only source of heating was this fire.

My parents said we should wait until we could at least get the place wired properly before we moved in but we were too excited.

We spent that first night together eating cold baked beans out of a can, sitting on a pair of high wooden stools my aunt had liberated from a skip and I was so happy at that moment that I thought I might burst.’

‘That’s a great memory.’

‘One of thousands to cherish forever.’ She breathed in deeply and gazed around the room before reaching for her coat, draped over the back of the nearby armchair. ‘But it’s time for a fresh start. I’ll text Geraldine and Hilary from the car and tell them to pop the kettle on.’

While Nanna settled into the front passenger seat, I wandered over to the removals van to tell Mick and his colleague that we were ready to leave.

Moving Nanna to Bay View wasn’t a big job.

She’d decided that most of her furniture wouldn’t suit a modern apartment so had splurged on several new items. Having her leave most of her furniture behind helped me when I was staying put for another month.

‘Hilary says she’s baked a chocolate cake,’ Nanna said, looking up from her phone shortly after. ‘She knows how to make me happy.’

‘Do you think the staff at Bay View are ready for you three getting up to mischief together?’

‘It’s Geraldine. She’s the ringleader.’

‘I can well believe it.’ Geraldine was a larger-than-life character with purple hair, a tattoo of Ursula the sea witch from the animated version of Disney’s The Little Mermaid on her arm, and the dirtiest laugh I’d ever heard.

Half an hour later, Nanna and I were in Hilary’s apartment with Geraldine while the removals men unloaded her belongings.

‘The three of us under one roof is going to be so much fun,’ Geraldine declared, helping herself to a second slice of cake.

‘How’s the refurbishment going, Lars?’ Hilary asked.

‘Really good. Most of the big things are done – building work, rewiring, new heating and replastering. The kitchen’s going in this week and it’s the bathrooms after that so it should be mainly cosmetic work left when I move in.’ I crossed my fingers. ‘Hopefully.’

‘Have you decided what you’re going to do with all your free time?’ Geraldine asked.

I shook my head. ‘I still don’t know.’

‘You could retire,’ Hilary said.

‘He’s only thirty-four,’ Nanna protested. ‘Far too young for that.’

‘And I’d be so bored,’ I added. ‘The refurb and Nanna’s move have kept me busy so far but I’ll need something for when my house is finished. I’m at the library again tomorrow but six days off is far too much when I’m used to working seven days a week.’

‘But you’re enjoying the library?’ Hilary asked.

‘I love it. Thanks again for the heads up.’

Nanna received a call from Mick to tell her they were nearly finished and that a lorry had just pulled up with her new furniture, so we said goodbye to Geraldine and Hilary and returned to Nanna’s apartment.

Within a couple of hours, everyone had gone.

The delivery team had assembled Nanna’s new bed, positioned her other new items of furniture where she wanted them and had taken all the packaging away.

I’d helped unpack the boxes for her kitchen and removed a few heavier items from other boxes, but she was insistent on me not giving up any more of my day for her.

I suspected it was more a case of her getting tired and also wanting some time on her own to adjust to the change.

I was going to find it a big enough wrench to leave 17 Fountain Street and I hadn’t lived there for half the time she had so her emotions had to be all over the place.

I helped Nanna make her bed with the new duvet set she’d treated herself to and then I left her to it.

‘Don’t forget to run the vacuum cleaner round before the Clarks visit,’ she said as I hugged her goodbye.

The new owners were coming round this evening to show their children their new home and measure up for curtains.

I couldn’t imagine they’d be bothered by the dust bunnies loitering in the spaces where boxes or furniture had been, but Nanna had always been house proud and was keen for her former home to be presented properly, so her wish was my command.

* * *

As soon as I stepped into the hall back at home, the silence cloaked me and I released a heavy sigh. Living here without Nanna wouldn’t have felt right and I was glad she’d refused to sell it to me.

In the lounge, Nanna’s floral perfume lingered in the air from where she’d spritzed her wrists shortly before we left this morning and the colourful scatter cushions on her favourite armchair were still indented from where she’d been sitting.

My gaze moved to the fireplace. Even though Nanna had taken it with her, I could still hear the steady tick of her antique clock – a wedding gift from her grandparents.

When would I stop hearing it? A lump formed in my throat and I shook my head.

Pull yourself together! She’s not dead! No, thankfully she wasn’t, but I still felt her absence keenly.

I raked my fingers through my hair, shaking my head.

I couldn’t stand here all afternoon moping.

Like Nanna, I’d never been one for mess.

She often said clean house, tidy mind which made complete sense to me.

I don’t think I could have set up and run a successful business if I’d had paperwork everywhere.

On the middle floor, I paused on the landing, wondering which of the two bedrooms to tackle first and going for Nanna’s.

The sound of the vacuum cleaner’s wheels across the wooden floorboards echoed around the room.

One of the wardrobe doors had been left open, revealing a few empty hangers on the clothes rail.

It felt strange being in Nanna’s room. She believed that a person’s bedroom was a private space so I’d spent very little time in there over the years – only going in to change light bulbs, to redecorate and, most recently, to help her pack.

I’d spent even less time in the other bedroom on this floor – my mum’s room.

Mum was in South America at the moment. I wasn’t sure of the exact country as she frequently changed her travel plans and I’d learned that it was less stressful if I just pinned her down to a continent rather than trying to keep up with the specifics.

After weeks of chasing, Nanna and I had finally managed to get Mum on a video call a fortnight ago where we’d updated her on our changing living arrangements.

I’d expected her to be surprised but she’d barely batted an eyelid.

‘What do you want us to do with your belongings?’ I’d asked.

‘Most stuff probably needs chucking,’ she replied, shrugging. ‘Can you box it up and shove it in storage for me? I’ll sort through it next time I’m in the UK.’

‘Any idea when that will be?’ Nanna asked.

‘Maybe October. Christmas? Spring?’ Accompanied by another shrug.

Trying to get Mum to commit to dates was fruitless.

Nanna never said anything, but I knew it hurt her that her only child never seemed to want to spend time with her.

Video calls were short, emails even shorter, and visits fleeting.

Even if Mum was in the UK for several weeks, she only managed a few days at the most in Whitsborough Bay.

Mum was a photographer and I was in awe of her talent and extremely proud of everything she’d achieved in her career to date, but I struggled to comprehend how little her family seemed to mean to her.

Nanna wasn’t the only one hurt by her limited contact.

I could have understood it if there’d been some huge falling out but there’d been nothing like that.

Mum just didn’t seem to think that physically being around us or even maintaining regular contact was important.

Over the years, I’d repeatedly told myself that Mum’s choices were about her and not me, but that did little to soothe the hurt or the feeling that, just like Pabbi, she’d abandoned me.

Turning the doorknob, I pushed open the door to Mum’s bedroom.

The afternoon sun shone through a gap in the voile panels on the window, creating a shaft of light in which dust motes danced.

As I entered the room, I felt as though I was stepping back in time.

It had been Mum’s bedroom growing up and, when she married Pabbi and moved out, she hadn’t taken her childhood paraphernalia with her.

When she moved back in after the separation she said that, as the move was temporary, there was no point packing everything away so she left it like a shrine to her childhood and it still remained that way to this day.

I didn’t relish the task of packing up Mum’s room.

It felt intrusive and I didn’t know what I might find.

It would have to be done, but perhaps not today when I was feeling emotional about Nanna moving out.

I’d finish the vacuuming then head over to Hutton Wicklow to check on progress with my house.

Far better to be surrounded by hammering and drilling than be alone here with my thoughts.

Although there was something else I could do – something I’d woefully neglected across the summer. Smiling to myself, I headed up to my office to organise that instead.