Chapter 39
Alice opened the front door to Grace later that morning looking sheepish. ‘I know I said I’d get started—’
Noodle and Doodle were through the doorway and making themselves at home before she could say any more and she was relieved to see that Grace wasn’t the least bit cross. It was one thing for Alice to give up her rostered day off to tackle her impending life-crisis, but when Grace had offered to help her – no, insisted on it, then the nerves had really started to kick in. After all the times Alice had attempted this process before, only for it to end in abject failure and self-recrimination, she couldn’t help but think of herself as a lost cause.
Grace held up Grande coffees from The Deli in one hand and a giant roll of bin bags with the other. ‘Don’t look so doubtful; I’ve come prepared,’ she grinned. ‘I even have stickers.’
‘Well,’ said Alice with an anxious smile, ‘what could possibly go wrong if you’ve got stickers?’ She hesitated, unsure whether to let on that she’d been pacing her house since the wee small hours, picking things up and putting them down, fretting about how to take this seemingly enormous step and successfully let go a little. Wandering through to the kitchen, she gestured at the kitchen table, where she’d got as far as labelling the three enormous cardboard boxes she’d collected from the supermarket – Auction, Car Boot, Recycle. Naturally, they were all still empty.
Grace plonked her roll of bin bags beside them and the quadrumvirate was complete. She walked over and pulled Alice into a gentle hug, murmuring her support into Alice’s hair. It was a timely reminder for Alice that, despite there being barely more than a decade between them, Grace had already raised two full-grown sons. There was a chance she actually knew what she was doing.
‘You are a wonder for helping me with this,’ Alice began, before Grace shushed her.
‘Well, you’ve had a little time to get your head around the idea and we’ve a fairly decent motivation on the table, don’t you think?’ Grace said gently, seemingly well aware of how challenging this day was going to be. ‘Just close your eyes and think how amazing it would be to not only be debt-free but also to have made a difference to such a wonderful cause.’
Alice nodded – she quietly hoped that her pledge to offer several lots to the auction would be incentive enough to quell her outspoken demons.
‘And of course,’ continued Grace, ‘think about how much fun lies ahead in making your house your home, rather than your storage facility.’ The gentle teasing was layered with affection and there was no doubting Grace’s commitment to helping with this.
Alice could only pray that her own inability to let go wouldn’t slow them down. ‘Right then,’ she said tentatively. ‘Where do we start? Hardest first, or build up to it? Tilly says we should just dive into the middle!’ Typical Tilly advice, to be fair – why have a plan when you can just dive in and wing it?
Grace nested the boxes neatly inside one another. ‘You grab the coffee. We’re starting in your bedroom. If we only achieve one thing today, it will be making that room somewhere restful so you might actually get some decent sleep.’ This was obviously something she’d given some considerable thought to.
Opening the door to her bedroom, as the sun shafted through the windows and across the bed, Alice felt almost winded. Seeing her room through Grace’s eyes was an unwelcome revelation. How naïve she’d been to think that making the bed neatly this morning and throwing a few cushions on top would make a scrap of difference. Two chests of drawers, one double wardrobe that wouldn’t close, eight – she double-checked – yes, eight enormous storage boxes and, somewhere under a pile of shopping bags and parcels, there was an antique armchair that rarely saw the light of day. She couldn’t even bear to think about the ‘dressing room’ next door and its rows of weighed-down hanging rails, not to mention the wall of pigeonholes crammed with shoes and bags.
She felt weighed down too, by the scale of the task ahead of her. ‘I don’t think—’ she began, her words buckling in her throat.
Grace took her hand. ‘This isn’t saying goodbye, Alice; this is a beginning, your new beginning. And, if the fundraising works out, then maybe another chance for so many other people. Not to mention if you imagine all that money you’re paying out in interest every month – you could probably swing a flight to visit Tilly for the same amount. You see, more carrots than Mr McGregor’s garden! Now, don’t let’s overthink this. Just pick out one item that you truly love and makes you smile.’
Alice’s eyes widened in fear. ‘To get rid of?’
Grace smiled. ‘Nope. We’re not doing things that way round. Too much negativity, thinking about all the things we don’t want. What on earth would Elsie say? We’re going to make sure that your house is filled with things you love. Only things you truly love.’ She paused to give Alice a reassuring squeeze. ‘They’ve written loads of books about it. It has to be worth a shot?’
Alice tried to ignore the sweating prickly feeling that was gripping her chest at the very idea of tackling this behemoth of a task – at confronting head-on all the waste and profligacy that had characterised the last few years of her life. Not to mention all the time and effort it had taken to keep everything organised, clean and sorted – that being perhaps the only way she could continue to differentiate between her own behaviour and that of a more committed hoarder. Nobody could accuse her of that, she reasoned, as long as every item was beautifully packed, presented or displayed. It was a justification she returned to with worrying regularity.
For some reason, with Grace standing beside her and the spotlight falling on the magnitude of her belongings, that argument didn’t quite hold water. Looking around at all her possessions now, she realised she had only actually postponed the problem. Swallowing hard, appreciating the restraint it must be costing Grace to remain patiently, silently, awaiting her first move, Alice reached out and plucked a vintage Chanel suit from the wardrobe. ‘This,’ she said. ‘My grandmother bought this in Paris for her going-away outfit. It fits me perfectly.’
‘Wow,’ said Grace, stepping forward to marvel at the fabric and the stitching and the fluidity of the skirt. ‘It’s an absolute treasure. And, do you know, I’ve never once seen you wear it.’ She laid it reverentially on the bed and Alice realised that Grace had a point – with so many clothes and so many options, the true gems were never getting to see the light of day, eclipsed by the newest, shiniest baubles to join the ranks.
She smiled, a frisson of pleasure surprising her as she looked at the suit laid out so beautifully. In a quick, almost subconscious, one, two, three, she pulled out a tailored Dior ‘Le Smoking’ jacket, a slim pair of jet-black trousers and a maxi-length cashmere cardigan in the softest smoky blue. She glanced at Grace for a little encouragement and was quietly thrilled to see the look of surprise and appreciation on her face.
‘Well,’ Alice said quietly, ‘I know I can’t wear them for work – can you imagine? But it makes me so happy just to know that they’re there.’
Grace nodded. ‘I can see that. Maybe you could have your day-to-day clothes in one cupboard and we can put your vintage and occasion items next door. Whittle them down until you can actually see what you’ve got and make it a feature in your study. That is still the plan? To have the other bedroom as a study with bookshelves and a sofabed?’
Alice nodded. It seemed ridiculous to have a two-bedroom house and yet nowhere for her friends to come and stay. She had to keep reminding herself that personal relationships would bring her considerably more happiness than a rail of dresses ever could, but looking at the small selection on the bed, even she had to concede that may not be true for everyone in her address book. Still, everything in moderation and a little bit of what you fancy does you good. See – she had been listening when Elsie had been waxing lyrical in The Kingsley Arms the other night.
She picked up a knitted cashmere dress and held it out in front of her to appraise. There was no polite way to say this – it was vast.
‘Whose is that?’ asked Grace. ‘It’s beautiful fabric.’
Alice felt herself colour slightly. ‘It’s mine. I mean, it was mine, when my weight was a little more—’ She stopped, hearing the mean comments of her fellow med students echoing in her head and half expecting Grace to make some snide remark.
But Grace herself was cut from different cloth. ‘Well, there’s no way we can get that tailored in without ruining the line. So I guess it’s time for someone else to enjoy it.’
Alice felt her grip tighten on the hanger, watching her fingers go white. What if she needed it? What if she suddenly put all the weight back on and it was the only item in her wardrobe that fitted? What if—? She paused, remembering all too well the struggle with her weight before Coco had come along, sweetly innocently demanding a walk three times a day, whilst offering companionship and unconditional love. The need to comfort-eat had disappeared almost overnight.
Grace sat down quietly on the end of the bed, patiently waiting, saying nothing, not a word of judgement passing her lips. ‘I like to keep something lovely for Christmas in a bigger size,’ she said after a moment, ‘just in case all the mince pies get the better of me. But just in the next size up, you know? I think sometimes hanging on to clothes or jewellery from a difficult time in our lives only serves as a reminder, and not always in a good way.’
Alice nodded; Grace made a valid point. She checked the label and nearly laughed out loud. Four whole sizes bigger – she would need to eat an awful lot of mince pies for this to become her ‘just in case’ dress. ‘It’s Mulberry though, so I’m not sure it’s car boot material?’
Grace nodded. ‘Do you know, I was thinking that just now. The auction is for the antiques and vintage originals. Knick-knacks can go to the car boot sale. But where do we put the in-betweens?’
Alice shrugged. ‘And now you see my dilemma: too good to ditch but no use to me. Every time I look at that dress I remember how much I paid for it. It makes me feel a little queasy actually, but I was so desperate for something to wear that made me feel good, at a time when anything with a waistband wasn’t an option. Splurging felt like the only way to deal with the problem.’ As she spoke, she didn’t look at Grace. It was almost as though she were processing out loud, the closest she’d ever come to therapy.
‘I still do that, you know? When I feel down,’ she confessed quietly.
Grace reached out and took her hand. ‘Maybe we can find you something new to do when you need a pick-me-up? Something a little less financially draining?’
Alice nodded. ‘It’s emotionally draining too, though, you know? The expectation, the adrenalin rush, the guilt, the denial – oh it’s a whole bundle of laughs shopping with me! It’s why I always shop alone.’
Grace stood up and reached out for the cashmere dress. ‘Well that’s one thing that’s easy to change. I’m perfectly happy to be your wingman. But somehow, I’m not sure you need to go shopping for a little while . . .’ She ran her fingers over the baby-soft drapes of the dress. ‘But I also think we need to set you up with your own pop-up shop.’
‘My what?’ asked Alice, thrown by the abrupt change of direction.
‘Not a physical shop. Or you’d end up paying rent. But I can put together an online boutique for you to sell this kind of thing. You can still split the proceeds the way you wanted to originally, and you’d need to charge postage . . .’
‘Vintage by Alice,’ murmured Alice under her breath, her frown turning to one of concentration. ‘Do you think anyone would buy this kind of thing online?’
Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you buy this kind of thing online?’
Alice laughed. ‘Good point, well made. But we’d need to photograph everything . . .’
‘Hmm,’ said Grace, teasing her slightly, ‘if only we knew somebody who’s fabulous with a camera and really tech-savvy. Someone who really wants to help?’
‘You would do that? For me?’ Alice clarified, sounding rather overwhelmed – whether by the generosity of the offer or the scale of the task ahead was anyone’s guess.
She sank down on the end of the bed, scarcely missing the bundle of dogs, where Coco, Noodle and Doodle had apparently snuggled up on siesta setting. ‘I genuinely want to throw up when I think about how much money is hanging on these rails and in these drawers. Money I couldn’t afford. Just to give myself a boost.’
‘What about now though?’ Grace asked gently. ‘Does looking at all this stuff still give you a boost or . . .?’
‘I feel like I’m drowning,’ Alice murmured. ‘I feel like my stuff owns me, rather than the other way round! I mean, I’m renting a two-bedroom house for one person and a spaniel just to accommodate all this—’
‘Okay then,’ said Grace. ‘You know this is progress, don’t you? Last time we spoke, you didn’t feel that way.’
Alice shook her head. ‘I didn’t admit to feeling that way,’ she corrected. ‘And last time, all I could think about was paying off my debts and giving up my things. This time, with the auction, I get to actually do something constructive.’ She grabbed the cashmere dress from Grace’s hands and hung it on the back of the door. ‘Every one of these we sell might make just enough difference between somebody living and dying, right?’
‘Right,’ said Grace. ‘But let’s still approach this in a way that makes you feel good. All the books say the same thing – focus on keeping what you love, rather than letting go. So—’
She stood up and with a momentary glance at Alice, she scooped everything out of the wardrobe and onto the bed, half covering the slumbering dogs. She pointedly picked up the four items that Alice had originally rescued and hung them on the empty rail.
‘I firmly believe that the fewer the things hanging on this rail, the more outfits you’ll have to wear – outfits you truly love and make you feel good – and you’ll actually be able to see them. More space, less guilt, and let’s ditch all the crappy memories while we’re at it.’
‘I don’t know if I can change that much,’ Alice said quietly.
‘Change is pretty black and white – you either have or you haven’t. It’s not a question of degree. And even doing this with me now is a change. You have to start somewhere, right?’
Alice breathed out slowly. ‘Does this mean I can never go shopping again?’
Grace shook her head. ‘Of course not. But let’s buy less and value more, okay? See this beautiful silk scarf with the hole in it? Let’s mend it and you can actually wear it. I think for you, a healthier goal would be to be more selective about what you actually buy. You have the most wonderful sense of style when you allow yourself free rein.’
‘Only buy something if I utterly adore it?’ Alice clarified.
‘And I’m not convinced that only applies to shopping,’ Grace smiled. ‘Why do anything that will make you unhappy, if you have the choice? Clothes, food, people . . .’
‘It’s all about the choices,’ Alice said slowly. Her eyes danced for a moment with the myriad of possibilities, lightening the doubt and insecurity. ‘Okay then, let’s start in here and see where it takes us.’