||[Feb. 6th, 2019|09:00 am]
Ailz is on the way home. |
Time concertinas. It seems no time at all since she left- and it isn't- roughly 36 hours- but ages since Dorothy died- which it's not- roughly 24 hours. Time, of course, isn't real. I love clocks with their moony faces and friendly ticking but I don't believe them.
Joe and Victoria and Aria were with Ailz at the bungalow yesterday, also Peter, Odi, Fabrizio, Christa and Miguel. Also Keith (Ailz's brother). Keith is talking about hiring a skip and piling everything into it. Bish, bash, bosh- drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. Peter was non-plussed. Ailz suggested Peter might organise a container and send the stuff that's worth keeping to Cameroon- which is something Cameroonians abroad do regularly. She's piled the car with things she knew her mother wanted her to have. And if we don't want it as much as Dorothy thought we might there are always the charity shops. She's told the neighbours- who have been Dorothy's primary carers these past few months- to help themselves...
I did some ringing round. Pat- Ailz's sort of godmother- she's known Dorothy longer than anyone still living (they were at school together)- was wonderfully matter of fact. She didn't pretend grief. I forget her exact words but what they amounted to were, "Yes, she'd been ill." Pat is 90 and has lived...