Pictures of Lily

says.
    Oh, no.
    ‘Mmmhmm.’
    ‘What, don’t tell me you don’t want one of those either?’ Now he’s looking annoyed.
    ‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ I admit.
    ‘Lily!’ he snaps.
    ‘No, it’s only that I quite like the idea of one ring. A wedding band with diamonds. Engagement rings can be so . . . fussy.’
    ‘I thought you liked Lucy’s ring.’
    ‘I do like Lucy’s ring. A diamond solitaire really suits her. But I wouldn’t want one.’
    He sighs. ‘Fair enough. I guess you’ve put some thought into it.’
    ‘Yes. I definitely have.’ I stifle a sigh of relief when he leaves it at that.

Chapter 16
     
    ‘Where’s Richard?’ Mum asks the next day. We’re sitting out on her space-challenged balcony drinking ice-cold water.
    ‘He’s catching up with a mate.’
    ‘I haven’t seen him for ages.’
    ‘No, I know. He did want to come.’
    ‘Why didn’t he then?’
    Whoops, walked right into that one. ‘I thought it’d be nice to spend some time, just the two of us. How are you, by the way?’
    ‘I’m fine,’ she says breezily, shaking back her shoulder-length, medium-blonde locks.
    ‘Still cut up about Jeremy?’
    She scoffs. ‘Hell, no. His loss.’
    ‘That’s the spirit, Mum.’
    She drags the plastic side-table over and props her feet up. Her legs are still slim and tanned and I notice she’s given herself a pedicure.
    ‘Any more men on the scene?’
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘You don’t sound too sure.’
    ‘You know what I’m like, Lils.’
    ‘Yes, Mum, I definitely do. Tell me about him.’
    ‘Nothing much has happened yet. I will when it does. Don’t want to jinx it.’
    I stare off into the distance at the ocean. We can just about see it, squeezed between two tall apartment complexes.
    ‘Do you still have that box of my things from when we moved here?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
    ‘Yes, it’s in the cupboard in your room.’
    Bless her, she still calls it my room even though I haven’t lived in it for four years.
    The living room is intimate, but light, decorated in neutral cream tones. There are two bedrooms directly off it. I wander into the smaller of the two. It still looks like a spare bedroom; I never did make it my own. I slide open the mirrored door of the built-in wardrobes and peer up at the top shelf. Sure enough, there’s my box. I pull over a chair, climb onto it and drag the box down onto the bed. Making myself comfortable, I peel back the packing tape.
    This box hasn’t been opened since we left Adelaide, and it’s the strangest thing how it smells like our home in Piccadilly. I close my eyes for a moment as memories flood back. I still remember packing it after Mum had told Michael they were over. It was a horrible time. He was distraught and Mum just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Josh came into my bedroom while I was putting my things away and I had to ask him to leave me alone because I was upset. He was twenty-one, almost twenty-two then, but he still lived with his dad. I remember feeling glad that Michael wouldn’t be alone when we walked out of the door. And I still recall the look on his face when I kissed him goodbye. He was heartbroken. Mum could barely even look at him, let alone give him a hug. Oh, it was ghastly. Ghastly. I don’t usually use that word, but it pretty much sums up the proceedings.
    I pull out my school books and take a quick flick through, smirking at the teacher’s comments – a reaction I’ve had to master because it’s better than feeling disappointed in myself. I put down the books before regret hits and instantly spy a set of brown spidery legs poking out from under a folded-up poster. I leap off the bed, clutching my hand to my mouth. Were they moving? I don’t think so. I take a tentative step towards the box and peer in. Definitely dead. Phew. The spider must have sneaked in when I packed the box all those years ago.
    I grab a tissue and grimace as I reach in and retrieve the deceased squatter. I drop it in the wastepaper basket with a shudder and return to the job at hand. I pull out the poster and unfold it to see it’s of Fence before they split up and their hot lead singer Johnny Jefferson went solo. There’s another of Blur, plus some CDs, books, old pieces of costume jewellery and . . . Oh my God. It’s his shirt. His shirt. The one I nicked and never gave back. I lift it up and breathe in deeply. Somewhere in its depths I can still smell him. Or is it my