Sam slowed the car as we approached the house.  The driveway, usually well swept, was covered in leaves and the grass had begun to creep over the edges of the border.  Parking the car on the street, I could feel Sam’s eyes on me.  I knew I had been quiet on the drive down, lost in my own thoughts.  I sighed and leant back in my seat staring up at the front door.  I could picture Ellis so clearly, standing there, her apron tied round her waist, waving happily as she had done every time I had come home for the weekend.  Home.  

          The word suddenly felt empty in my ears and I glanced woefully at the For Sale sign stuck in the grass. They hadn’t wanted me to keep it, they wanted me to sell it so that I could set myself up, create a life for myself. Everything they had, they left to me, every book, every painting, every penny in their vast savings, they had left all of it to me.  But selling the house was harder than I thought possible.  This was the first place I’d ever been truly happy.  Over the years it had become my home, and Ellis and Arthur my family.  We had spent so much time together, Summer’s days in the garden, Ellis reading while Arthur and I worked in the greenhouse or planted up flower beds for Ellis. Long evenings, just sitting together, Arthur usually doing a puzzle of a famous painting, while I sat, cross legged on the floor doing homework.  I remembered Ellis, helping me with my French homework until I was almost as fluent as she was, and then later teaching me Italian and a little Spanish.  

           The years here had been wonderful, and the memories wrapped up in the very fabric of the house were so precious, I couldn’t bear the thought of selling.  I felt like I was giving up a part of my life, as if the time we shared was a gift that had to be returned.  That’s what they were to me.  A gift, given to a lost and lonely twelve-year-old who desperately craved the love of a family. I felt my heart breaking for the second time since the day of the telephone call.  The house was such a part of them and now we were here, I wasn’t sure I could bear to see it empty.

           “Hey,” said Sam softly, as tears began to roll down my face.  “We don’t have to do this today.  We can come back and do it another day.”

          I nodded but deep down I knew it wasn’t going to get any easier.  The pain I felt could not, and would not go away. The pang in my chest, the jolt in my stomach, every time I felt happy or sad, every time I heard a familiar song or cooked lasagne. 

          “I’m okay,” I sniffed and forced my self to unbuckle and push open the door.  

          Sam had reached the side of the car before I’d even fully stood up.  I smiled at him and together we walked up the drive towards the front door.  As we reached the door I felt around in my bag for the set of keys the lawyer had given me.  With a shaking hand, I realised that I had never unlocked the front door before.  Ellis had always been standing waiting for me, or else Arthur would unlock it and hold it open for us both to walk through.  My hand shook harder and I felt Sam gently take the key from my hand and unlock the door with a small click, then stand back to allow me to walk through. The gesture made me smile, like he knew what I was thinking and I felt a rush of warmth towards him.

           Unlike the drive, the inside still looked spotless.  Books were neatly stacked on bookcases; coats were hung on pegs and the kitchen looked as though it had just had a wipe down.  As I looked around, the only sign that the house had been left empty for five weeks were the dried and wilted flowers that sat in a vase on the coffee table. I vaguely recognised them as flowers from the garden that Arthur and I had planted the Spring before.

           I looked around, wondering where to begin, wondering how I would ever be able to decide what to do with everything.  All their precious possessions, everything they had collected in their lifetime together. I leaned against the wall and breathed in the smell of the coats hanging neatly on the pegs.  I glanced down at the lowest peg, which Arthur had put up a week after I moved in so that I had somewhere to hang my school jacket.  Was it silly to want to take those hooks with me? And the coats?  

           I looked at the table, laden with photographs and I wondered if we had brought enough bubble wrap. Ellis’ second favourite ornament stood amongst the pictures, a long-standing joke, as the original and true favourite had been accidently knocked over by Arthur who then spent months fruitlessly looking for an exact replacement, eventually conceding and opting for a ‘modern interpretation’.  I remembered Ellis, laughing with mirth as she unwrapped it and stood it cheerfully in place of the old statue.

In the lounge, I contemplated the innumerable boxes of records, drawers full of nicknacks, books, journals, more photographs albums.  Photographs documenting their lives, their very existence.  Baby photographs, photographs with their parents, Christmases, holidays, first homes, second homes.  It was all there.

           I looked at Sam and felt my shoulders slump.  

          “I can’t.” I shook my head and felt my eyes watering.  “How can I pull it all apart, separate it all out, throw it away.  This is their life in this home.  It’s everything they had.  It’s, I-” 

I stammered unable to make sense of the task.

          “Come here,” he said, pulling my in towards him.  “You don’t have to throw anything away okay.  You can keep every single thing down to the last tea towel if you want to.  We have the whole weekend to pack it all up and drive it home okay?”

          I nodded, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

          “Okay,” I said, letting go of Sam’s shirt, “Okay.”

           Sam smiled down at me and I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

“Right,” he smiled, “Why don’t I start bringing boxes in, and why don’t you make us a cup of tea to get us started, yeah?”

          I watched him walk back to the car, taking control in such Ellis fashion that I couldn’t help but smile through my tears.  I walked through to the kitchen and switched on the tap, allowing it to run for a while before filling the kettle.  Opening the cupboard where the mugs were kept I pulled out two mugs and the jar containing tea bags.  Discarding the top few I dropped a bag into each cup and waited for the kettle to boil.

          “Jess,” came Sam’s voice, from the hallway and I walked back out of the kitchen to see him standing on the step laden with boxes.  

          “I think one of your neighbours is coming up the drive,” he said, leaning the boxes against the rail of the stair, “I think she thought I was a removals man,” he laughed.

          I looked over his shoulder and sure enough, Mrs Fiblye was walking up the drive carrying something in her hand.

           “Hello dear,” she said as she drew closer, “I saw you pull up through my kitchen window, how are you doing?  I wondered whether you’d be coming back. I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, but I tell you what, I don’t think the neighbours on the other side have been very happy about the place being left empty for so long, grumpy old gits they are. And Mrs Delaford down the road, you remember her, well she’s been asking about you and she wanted to know if you would be able to feed her cat while she’s away, Ellis always used to pop over the road for her.  But I expect you’ve got lots to do and you won’t want to be popping back here every five minutes.”  

She paused for breath and I tried to get a word in edgeways but failed.  

          “You’ve come to pack it all up then have you?  Gosh that’s a lot of work, is that the removals man with you?  You haven’t got much room in the car have your dear.  Will he bring a van tomorrow?  What will you do with it all?  Are you staying long?” 

           She carried on asking me questions and I saw Sam glancing at me before hurriedly turning away.  I smiled at Mrs Fiblye who despite her nosy, somewhat forthright manner had always seemed kind at heart. True to that testament, she pushed a carton of milk into my hand and winked.  

“You’ll be wanting a strong cuppa I expect,” she said before turning away and walking back down the drive, “Let me know if you need anything,” she called over her shoulder before turning into her own drive and disappearing behind the hedge.

           I walked back into the house and found Sam grinning in the kitchen.

          “She’s timid isn’t she?” he said with a straight face.

          I laughed giving him a gentle shove.

          “She’s just…” but I was at loss for what she was so plonked the milk down on the side and said, “Nice, she’s nice,” I concluded and poured the water from the kettle that had just boiled.

           We stood there drinking the strong tea, me cradling the warm mug and looking around the room.

          “Do you want to start in here?” Sam asked gently, and I nodded thinking that I would perhaps be less emotional over saucepans and cutlery.  

          “Okay,” said Sam, and he began to assemble one of the boxes while I filled the sink with warm water and washed the cups out.

          Taping up one end of the box, he spun it around in his hands and stood it upright on the kitchen table, scribbling the word keepon the side.

          “Just a keep box?” I asked slightly surprised.

          “For now.  We can get another one if we need to,” he replied with a smile and pulled open one of the cupboards.

          “Right,” he said, “Oh wow!”

          “What?” I asked edging round the table and looking into the cupboard, where thirty or so saucepans were stacked neatly in piles.

          “Maybe we’ll do this one in a bit,” he said closing the cupboard and opening the one next to it. “Shall I pass them up to you and you can put them in the box?”

          “Yeah okay,” I agreed, and I watched him pull out bowls from the cupboards.

          “Mixing bowl?”

          “Keep,” I said, taking it from him and wrapping it in newspaper.

          “Flan dish?”

          “Keep,” I repeated, looking at the faded pattern on the side and remembering Ellis’ quiches, which had always been a hit at garden parties.

          “Lasagne dish?”

          “Keep,” I laughed.

          “Thought so,” said Sam, grinning at me, and I realised just how well he knew me.  

           Over the last few months we had spent so much time together, talking and getting to know one another, I felt pleased that he was here with me, letting me reminisce and understanding how important it all was to me.

Sam had been right, we hadn’t needed another box until we were into the third cupboard under the sink.

          “Ok I guess we can start a chuck box now?” he asked holding up a single, worn rubber glove and an empty box of washing powder.

          “Oh,” I cried, “Ellis and I used to love doing the cleaning together,” and I covered my face in my hands.

          “Hey,” said Sam springing up at once and putting his arm around me.  “I’m sorry Jess, I-”

          I looked up at him, a wide grin on my face and then began to laugh, leaving him momentarily speechless and confused.

          “You, you’re winding me up aren’t you?” he said perplexed.

           By now I had tears of laughter rolling down my cheeks and after standing in front of me, shaking his head in disbelief he laughed too.

          “You,” he said in a teasing voice, “You, are gonna get it,” and he picked up a sponge from the cupboard, dropped it into the sink and then threw it still dripping at me.  It hit me square in the face and I shrieked while Sam roared with laughter.  Pushing my wet hair out of my face I picked up the sponge and ran towards him.  He covered his head as I flung it at him soaking the front of his T-shirt.

          “Hey,” he yelled laughing and then picked the washing up bowl out of the sink ready to pour it over me.

          “No!” I laughed, trying hard to breath, “No, no, no,” I protested backing away, my hand outstretched a worried grin on my face.

          He continued towards me, something fiery in his eyes, something more than friendship.

          I grabbed the edges of the bowl, my hands overlapping his slightly and suddenly we were face to face. He looked at me wearing a funny expression.

          “No.” I said in mock authority and stepped away still smiling.

          “You were lucky,” he said, putting the bowl back into the sink and kneeling down again to empty the cupboard, a small smile on his face.  He pulled out a roll of trash bags, tore one off, and began putting half bottles of furniture polish and old scrubbing brushes inside it.

           I turned away, smiling too in spite of myself and then, having nothing to do, I opened the cupboard containing all the glasses and began emptying it.  For a while we worked in silence and I wondered what he was thinking. The fight had been playful, but there was no denying there was something underlying between us.  I knew I had taken him by surprise when I had kissed him in the lawyer’s office, but the moment had been fleeting and isolated, and neither of us seemed sure where we were headed.

           “Um, was this yours?” I heard Sam say and saw him uncurling a child’s apron, covered in paint and chocolate stains.

          “Oh yeah,” I laughed, they bought me that for Christmas one year, I think it was the first year I was here.

          Sam stood up and placed it neatly in the ‘keep’ box which was now full, and then wandered out into the hallway returning with another box.

          “What was it like?” he asked, taping up another box, “Moving in with complete strangers?”

          “Um,” I pondered, wondering how to answer, “Strangely, it felt, felt like I was coming home.  I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.  I guess compared to what I was used to, it was somehow magical, to be living in a house were I wasn’t going to be beaten or starved or forced to listen to shouting while I went to sleep.  I was nervous when I first got here but they made me feel so comfortable and welcome we just seemed to fall into a happy routine the three of us.” 

I paused, remembering my first night here.

           We worked and talked for several hours more until Sam offered to drive out and pick up some lunch for us.

          “And dinner?” he asked.

          I looked at him, framed in the doorway.  We had nearly finished the kitchen, but the rest of the house stood untouched, waiting to be sorted. I nodded.

          “And maybe breakfast?” I said, feeling suddenly awkward.  Sam and I had never stayed in this house together and I wondered what would happen once the day drew to a close.

          “Right.  Lunch, dinner and breakfast, got it.  I’ll be back shortly,” he replied, apparently blind to my thoughts.

           He closed the front door and I turned on the spot, staring through at the living room.  Stepping into the room, I felt myself walk toward the sliding doors that led onto the patio.  The garden which had always been mine and Arthur’s job had begun to look overgrown.  Hedges that were once trimmed regularly had begun to sprout and new shoots stood out at odd angles.  The grass was long and yellow and the weeds had begun to grow through the patio.

           Reaching automatically to my right to find the key hung behind the curtains I opened the door and stepped into the garden.  I looked curiously at the bed down the left hand side of the lawn that I had once dug over and planted up for Ellis’ birthday.  The soil was relatively weed free and the plants looked watered and healthy. It seemed that while the rest of the garden had been too much for Ellis to manage, she had taken special care of this particular spot, tending to it as I had, all those years.  I pulled back some of the grass that had begun to grow into the edge of the bed and noticed a stone lying at the foot of the rose bush. Brushing the grass from my hands I knelt down to pick it up wondering how it had got there.  As I pulled it from the earth, I saw a pale grey inscription in the smooth, dark surface and my eyes filled with tears.  Wiping them away, I re-read the message and it was as if I could hear the words being whispered softly in my ear.  

          

          Precious are the memories 

          

          I could hear Ellis,  and see Arthur nodding in agreement, and suddenly I could hear them both telling me that it did not matter if the house was kept or sold, it did not matter if the cupboards were emptied, possessions dutifully kept or donated or simply thrown out. Memories were what we held onto, memories that can never be sold or discarded.  I stood up, hearing footsteps behind me and saw Sam standing in the doorway, his car keys in one hand, his wallet in the other.

          “Forgot my wallet,” he explained, “You okay?” he asked as he walked towards me.

          “Yeah,” I breathed, my senses a little clearer.  

          “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the stone in my hand.  

          I held it out to him and watched his eyes read the words so beautifully carved.

           “Where was it?” 

          “In the bed,” I answered nodding down at the earth beneath our feet.  I clutched the stone and smiled feeling lighter despite the weight in my hand.

          “It’s going to be ok. I’m going to be ok,” I smiled looking up at Sam.

          “I know”, he replied simply.