when my sister's life was falling apart.
Where once my sister would spend her days ‘doing lunch,’ with friends at overpriced bistros and a spot of retail therapy she now spent her days wandering around upstairs, drinking her special ground coffee and watching Jeremy Kyle and Loose Women on a loop.
After her third day of DNA results, menopausal humour and overpriced caffeine she looked very pale. I asked if she was okay and she’d nodded, lethargically... clearly the caffeine wasn’t working.
‘I wish I knew what was going to happen to me,’ she sighed. This wasn’t like Tamsin, life didn’t ‘happen’ to her, she ‘happened’ to it.
‘Don’t be down, just take a few days to come round and make some decisions. None of us know what’s round the corner... even Mrs J, despite her skill with the tea and the tarot.’ I giggled and reminded her of a reading she’d had from Mrs J after which she hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks because of the cards that came up for her.
‘Mmmm that death card was a knife through my heart,’ she nodded vigorously.
I smiled, remembering the late night phone calls, the will, the emails filled with music playlists and internet links with glossy shots of preferred canapés to be served at her funeral. There was also a detailed email about the red Gucci shift dress she wanted to be dressed in - along with her favourite Louboutins in red (‘not black darling no one wears black to funerals anymore’).
Tamsin was miles away. ‘But on her last reading, she’d said, “Big changes are coming. Vultures are circling.” Mrs J may be more psychic than we thought. I might get her to do another reading... knowledge is power at a time like this.’
‘I thought I was supposed to be the hippy dippy one,’ I said, trying to lift her mood.
She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you Sam, hippy dippy or not... suddenly my whole world has come crashing down and there you are my lifeboat in the wreckage.’
‘Yes I ’m here for you and I think one of the keys to this is keeping everything as normal as possible, which reminds me, I’d promised Jacob we could put the tree up tonight.’ I hadn’t, but I thought it would take her mind off things – even though she would baulk at the dusty old tree and unfashionable baubles. I knew my sister though, and before long she’d be dictating what went where and how we should put the lights on – I never thought I’d say it, but I wanted the old Tamsin back.
I rushed into the bedroom and pulled out the cardboard box I’d found at her house.
‘I hope you don’t mind me rescuing these,’ I said, plonking the box in the middle of the room, ‘they’re from Nan and Granddad’s.’
‘No, I don’t mind. God I thought I’d thrown that lot out years ago...’
‘It seemed a shame to leave them in a cupboard – all these lovely memories,’ I said, feeling a frisson for Christmas I hadn’t felt in years. ‘Come and see, Jacob... we’re decorating our Christmas tree,’ I called. He was delirious with excitement at this and was soon head down in the box, discovering the Christmas treasures. The old tree was wrapped in bin liners and as I peeled them off, half the tinsel ‘pine needles’ came away with them. This didn’t seem to bother Jacob, who shrieked with delight as the tree was slowly unfurled. It was so rickety and old and frail, I suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia for Christmas past and my lovely grandparents who’d always been so caring.
We dragged everything through into the living room, together turning the box upside down and shaking all the glittery Christmas detritus onto the carpet.
‘Oh, I’m not sure you should be using this old stuff... it’s so dusty,’ Tamsin complained, but couldn’t help herself and was soon on her knees looking through the baubles and tinsel with us.
Once I’d secured the tree in the corner of the room, Jacob and I dived into the box, rummaging
Where once my sister would spend her days ‘doing lunch,’ with friends at overpriced bistros and a spot of retail therapy she now spent her days wandering around upstairs, drinking her special ground coffee and watching Jeremy Kyle and Loose Women on a loop.
After her third day of DNA results, menopausal humour and overpriced caffeine she looked very pale. I asked if she was okay and she’d nodded, lethargically... clearly the caffeine wasn’t working.
‘I wish I knew what was going to happen to me,’ she sighed. This wasn’t like Tamsin, life didn’t ‘happen’ to her, she ‘happened’ to it.
‘Don’t be down, just take a few days to come round and make some decisions. None of us know what’s round the corner... even Mrs J, despite her skill with the tea and the tarot.’ I giggled and reminded her of a reading she’d had from Mrs J after which she hadn’t been able to sleep for weeks because of the cards that came up for her.
‘Mmmm that death card was a knife through my heart,’ she nodded vigorously.
I smiled, remembering the late night phone calls, the will, the emails filled with music playlists and internet links with glossy shots of preferred canapés to be served at her funeral. There was also a detailed email about the red Gucci shift dress she wanted to be dressed in - along with her favourite Louboutins in red (‘not black darling no one wears black to funerals anymore’).
Tamsin was miles away. ‘But on her last reading, she’d said, “Big changes are coming. Vultures are circling.” Mrs J may be more psychic than we thought. I might get her to do another reading... knowledge is power at a time like this.’
‘I thought I was supposed to be the hippy dippy one,’ I said, trying to lift her mood.
She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you Sam, hippy dippy or not... suddenly my whole world has come crashing down and there you are my lifeboat in the wreckage.’
‘Yes I ’m here for you and I think one of the keys to this is keeping everything as normal as possible, which reminds me, I’d promised Jacob we could put the tree up tonight.’ I hadn’t, but I thought it would take her mind off things – even though she would baulk at the dusty old tree and unfashionable baubles. I knew my sister though, and before long she’d be dictating what went where and how we should put the lights on – I never thought I’d say it, but I wanted the old Tamsin back.
I rushed into the bedroom and pulled out the cardboard box I’d found at her house.
‘I hope you don’t mind me rescuing these,’ I said, plonking the box in the middle of the room, ‘they’re from Nan and Granddad’s.’
‘No, I don’t mind. God I thought I’d thrown that lot out years ago...’
‘It seemed a shame to leave them in a cupboard – all these lovely memories,’ I said, feeling a frisson for Christmas I hadn’t felt in years. ‘Come and see, Jacob... we’re decorating our Christmas tree,’ I called. He was delirious with excitement at this and was soon head down in the box, discovering the Christmas treasures. The old tree was wrapped in bin liners and as I peeled them off, half the tinsel ‘pine needles’ came away with them. This didn’t seem to bother Jacob, who shrieked with delight as the tree was slowly unfurled. It was so rickety and old and frail, I suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia for Christmas past and my lovely grandparents who’d always been so caring.
We dragged everything through into the living room, together turning the box upside down and shaking all the glittery Christmas detritus onto the carpet.
‘Oh, I’m not sure you should be using this old stuff... it’s so dusty,’ Tamsin complained, but couldn’t help herself and was soon on her knees looking through the baubles and tinsel with us.
Once I’d secured the tree in the corner of the room, Jacob and I dived into the box, rummaging
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