The Keeper of Lost Things

by Ruth Hogan

His gentle strength, tranquil manner, and immaculate urbanity were all qualities that she had learned, albeit a little late, to appreciate in a man. His presence always lifted her spirits and made her value her life in a way that she hadn’t for a very long time.

Her grandmother had once told her that one could blame ugliness on one’s genes and ignorance on one’s education, but there was absolutely no excuse whatsoever for being dull.

“In this world, Daisy, we are tiny. We can’t always win and we can’t always be happy. But the one thing that we can always do is try.

Laura was glad she had arrived early enough to bag a booth, and that she had remembered to bring a book with her to hide behind, just in case anyone tried to talk to her. On her way here, it had suddenly and rather worryingly occurred to her that Freddy and the frisky Felicity might also be lunching in this particular pub, but much though the thought horrified her, she was too stubborn to turn back. And so here she was, drinking in the middle of the day, which was unheard of, and pretending to read a book she wasn’t really interested in, while waiting for a lunch that she didn’t really want. All in order to prove a point to herself and not let Anthony down. And to think that she could have been at home cleaning the cooker. Even Laura couldn’t help but crack a wry smile at her own ridiculousness.

“If you never get sadness, how do you know what happy is like?” she asked. “And by the way, everybody dies.”

“Whatever made you agree to go out with him in the first place?” Laura looked a little embarrassed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just because he asked. Nobody else has. He always seemed nice enough. Nothing obviously wrong with him.” Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “Nothing wrong doesn’t make him ‘Mr. Right.’”

That was Laura; always hiding behind a joke, shrugging away compliments. But Sarah would never forget that it was this Laura, eight years ago, who sat wiping away her tears, in a side room of a hospital ward, while Sarah’s shattered husband paced the car park chain-smoking and sobbing. It was Laura who held her hand while she delivered her first child; a precious daughter who died before they had a chance to meet.

Both Freddy and Sunshine seemed to accept Therese with an equanimity that Laura found infuriating. The troublesome presence of someone who was definitely dead and scattered in the garden should surely cause some consternation?

They were husband and wife without sex or certificate and these were the last paltry scraps of their once rich relationship; walking and watching films.

“That bet with Sunshine, it’s just a joke. I don’t expect you to . . .” She was so uncomfortable that she didn’t know how to continue. It suddenly dawned on her that marrying Freddy might be exactly what she wanted and that was why she was so upset. Her foolish hopes of a “happy ever after” had been turned into a joke, and she felt like a laughingstock.