I’m in Magpie, at my favourite area with the trinkets and the chest of drawers, polishing and sorting, kind of playing, when Ciara interrupts my thoughts. She’s standing in the window dressing the mannequins.
‘I’m thinking of naming the mannequins. The longer I spend with them, the more I’m certain they each have a personality.’
I laugh.
‘If I listen to them, I can utilise them to their best advantage. Maybe sell more. For example, this here is Naomi.’ She turns the model around and waves her hand at me. ‘She’s a window girl. She likes being centre of attention. On stage. Unlike … Mags over there, who hates the attention.’ She jumps off the raised platform and makes her way to the mannequin in the accessory area. ‘Mags likes to hide. She likes wigs, sunglasses, hats, gloves, bags, scarves, you name it.’
‘That’s because Mags is on the run,’ I say.
‘Yes!’ Ciara’s eyes widen and she studies the mannequin. ‘You’re not shy at all, are you? You’re on the run.’
The bell rings as the door opens.
‘Who are you running from, Mags? Is it something you’ve seen or something you’ve done? Let me look you in the eye.’ Ciara lowers her glasses and stares at her. She gasps. ‘What have you done, you naughty thing?’
The customer clears their throat and we turn our attention to the door, where there’s a young man standing, with a half-filled black bin liner in his hand.
My heart pounds wildly. I hold on to the chest of drawers. Ciara looks at me in surprise and then back to the man. I know by her reaction that she sees it too; he’s the image of Gerry.
‘Hello,’ Ciara says. ‘I’m sorry … you’ve caught us … we’re talking to … my goodness, you look very like somebody we know. Used to know. Know.’ She tilts her head, and examines him.
‘How can I help you?’
‘I’m looking for Holly Kennedy,’ he says. ‘From the PS, I Love You Club?’
‘I’m Ciara. This is Mags. If that is in fact her real name,’ she says, smiling. ‘She has a dark history. Oh, and that’s Holly.’
I try to snap myself out of it. It’s not Gerry. It’s definitely not him. Just a young, handsome, incredibly similar guy, so similar he managed to take both Ciara’s and my breath away. Black hair, blue eyes, a common Irish look, but my God, he’s cut from the same cloth.
‘I’m Holly.’
‘Hi. I’m Jack.’
‘Nice to meet you, Jack,’ I say, shaking his hand. He’s so young, I’m guessing ten years younger than me now, but the way Gerry was, before the end. ‘Come this way.’
I lead him to the stockroom that I’ve renovated to include an inviting space for the club, and we sit down at the couch area. He looks around. I’ve framed photographs on the wall of the original members of the PS, I Love You Club: Angela, Joy, Bert, Paul and Ginika. I added Gerry to the group, as seemed fitting, considering he’s the original founder. Jack’s eyes settle on Gerry. I wonder if he sees the resemblance too. I hand him a bottle of water. He nervously downs half of it immediately.
‘How can I help you?’
‘I read about the PS, I Love You letters in a magazine – while I was waiting at the hospital, ironically.’
I know the magazine piece he saw; we’re a new foundation, not many profile pieces to be confused about. It was in a health magazine, complete with a photograph of Gerry and me. Perhaps it was Gerry who drew him to the club.
‘I have cancer,’ he says, his eyes filling. He clears his throat and looks down. ‘I want to do something for my wife. We only got married last year. I read about your story. I want to do something fun for her, every month for a year, like your husband did.’
I smile. ‘I’d be honoured to help.’
‘Did you … did he … was it …’ he struggles with the question. He sighs. ‘You obviously think it’s a good idea or you wouldn’t have started this. Will she like it?’ he eventually asks.
There’s so many levels to this experience, so many layers to explain. His wife will feel so many things about these letters and tasks that her husband will surprise her with, I find it difficult to put it into words. She will feel loss, and grief, but also connection and love, spirit and darkness, black and anger, light and hope, laughter and fear. Everything in between, a kaleidoscope of emotions that shine and flicker from one moment to the next.
‘Jack, so much of what’s to come will change her life forever,’ I say eventually. ‘These letters, planned in the right way, will ensure you’re by her side every step of the way. Do you think she’ll want that?’
‘Yeah. Definitely.’ He smiles, convinced. ‘Good. Let’s do it. Look, I told her I’d only be in here for a minute, that I was dropping off some old stuff for my mum.’ He glances down at the bin liner by his feet. ‘It’s old newspapers, sorry.’
‘Well, best not leave her waiting.’ I stand and lead him back to the shop. ‘We can meet again soon, and you can give me more of a sense of her personality. What’s her name?’
‘Molly,’ he says, with a smile.
‘Molly.’
‘Bye, Jack,’ Ciara says.
‘Bye, Ciara, bye, Mags,’ he says with a grin.
The door closes and Ciara looks at me as though she’s seen a ghost. I rush to the window and watch him get into a car beside a pretty young woman. Molly. They’re chatting while he gets his keys ready.
Molly catches sight of me, and she smiles. In that look, that quick connection we make, she transports me back, so far back, I feel like I’m speeding through a black hole and my heart can barely keep up with the travel. I feel protective of her, like a parent, like a friend. I want to mind her, reach out to her, embrace her. I want to tell her to squeeze him, hold him tight, breathe him in, treasure every single second. I want to leave her alone and give her the space she so desires, let her build a wall around herself while patiently listening from the other side. I want to help her build that wall, I want to help her tear it down. I want to warn her, I want to give her hope. I want to tell her to keep going, I want to tell her to turn around and go back the other way. I feel like I know her so well. I know who she is and where she is now, the journey she is about to embark on and the distance she will go. And yet, I know I have to step back and let her get there on her own.
I may envy her a little at this moment, watching them together, but I don’t envy the journey ahead of her. I made it, I did it, and I’ll be rooting for her and waiting for her on the other side.
I return the smile.
And then they drive away.