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The view was disappointing, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see what rubbish
she had stashed away. Moving my head or looking through a different hole made no
difference. I gave up and felt pissed-off that Cat-woman had a light in her loft:
I’d been meaning to put one in mine for years.
I began to move boxes. Those nearest to me were full of books and folders - the ones
that Danielle would use as she conscientiously prepared for the start of a new school
year. It was time to throw them away. The next box was for holidays. It held travel
guides, my snorkel and mask, and a pair of flip-flops. Flip-flops! These were an
excellent find. I took them out and tossed them through the hatch to the landing
below.
Then I moved the box containing the six-foot plastic Christmas tree that Danielle’s
mother, Marcia, had given us. Underneath was a guitar case and practice amp. These
belonged to my brother, David. I’d taken them from Mum’s house with the intention
of learning to play, and I’d put them in the loft when David, his wife and my one-year-old
niece had visited before Christmas. I didn’t want him to discover my theft and I
didn’t want little Chloe to do any damage. I’d taken no chances and had removed everything
that could be tempting to a toddler. This wasn’t enough for David and he pointed
out that I hadn’t blanked the plug sockets. Tosser. If only he’d stuck his fingers
in to demonstrate.
I thought about him and his guitars, and how I had endured him murdering Brit-Pop
during my early teens, and how I had always meant to learn but had never quite got
round to it. Perhaps it was time. This would be my challenge for the holiday: I would
begin to think about starting to try and learn the guitar. It would be worthwhile
and something to tell Horse-woman and my handful of colleagues at work.
“Did you go away?”
“No, I learnt the guitar.”
