Everything We Keep by Di Walker (inspirational books .TXT) 📕

fast that she caught her finger in between. The sharp pain made her step back and vigorously shake her hand.

‘This has happened before,’ she thought to herself. ‘Think. Think.’ She continued to pace, making herself slow down. ‘Breathe, just breathe,’ Katherine’s calming voice came into her head. When she had first moved into Katherine’s home, a few days before New Year’s Eve, she had many moments like these. Agatha didn’t realise, at first, when Katherine gathered up her clothes that they would be returned, washed and ironed. She didn’t know that it was okay to put the junk mail straight from the letter box and into the recycle bin, never to be smoothed out and stored for later.

Katherine went to yoga every Tuesday and Thursday evening. She took Agatha along and that’s where she learnt to breathe and stretch. With Katherine’s voice in her ear, guiding her, Agatha soon calmed herself.

She stepped her way carefully along the hall, through the sitting room, past the kitchen that already had non-kitchen things in the sink, to the back veranda. Her parents were still, or already in their chairs. It wouldn’t have surprised her if they had slept there all night; they often did in the warmer weather.

‘Good morning,’ she said, trying to sound normal, be normal.

Her mother turned her head towards her daughter, ‘Did you sleep alright Aggie?’

‘Yes, but I’ve lost something.’

Her mother quickly stood up, the contents of her lap spilling onto the floor. ‘Lost something? Oh, no, no, no . . . we can’t lose something . . . no, it can’t be lost. . . ’ Her mother swept past her and entered the house. She started looking at things, lifting things, containers, washing baskets, sifting through things, even though Agatha had not told her what it was that was lost.

‘It’s orange. My suitcase.’ Agatha said, matter-of-factly, following along behind her mother. ‘I can’t remember where I put it.’

‘It’s orange? I don’t see anything orange here. We must find it. We can’t lose anything Aggie, it’s bad to lose things. Bad.’ Edith suddenly stopped and turned to Agatha, grabbing at her arm. She stepped in closer to her daughter, gently taking a strand of Agatha’s hair, pushing it back behind her daughter’s ear and whispered, ‘Remember what happened when we lost her. You remember Agatha, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Mum. I remember. I need to find my suitcase. It’s orange.’

Her mother let out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh . . . the suitcase. Why didn’t you say that to start with Agatha?’

‘Well, I did . . . ’ but Edith wasn’t listening.

‘I know where it is. It’s not lost. Follow me. I know where it is, Aggie.’ This was the part Agatha knew she couldn’t rush, because her mother was not going to take her straight there. She knew this could take ages as Edith would become distracted along the way, shifting things from one pile to the next, rearranging objects that seemed to be out of their proper order, taking things from one room to another and all the while Agatha followed close behind, eyes wide open and looking for any hint of orange.

Squeezing between two tall piles, Edith went into the bathroom. Agatha followed. Edith touched everything. ‘Orange, orange, orange. . . ’ she muttered over and over, as she lifted and inspected, the buckets in the shower, boxes of miscellaneous objects that had been stacked on top of each other in the bathtub.

‘I don’t think it’s in here,’ Agatha said.

‘Where is it, Agatha?’ her mother said, not looking at her but opening the cupboard under the sink and taking out the packets of soaps and empty tissue boxes, smoothing each one without success.

‘I don’t know. In your room?’

Her mother stood up and looked straight at her. ‘Yes. In there. You are a smart girl Aggie to think of that. A smart girl.’ Edith pushed past her daughter and left the bathroom. Agatha was a step behind.

Finally, they made it to her parents’ bedroom, the door opened just enough for them to each squeeze in sideways. Agatha had not been in here for ages. It was almost impossible to see any path to walk in. The curtains were closed over, and the afternoon sun gave the room a dull hue.

The bed was back against the wall, pushed back by the piles of clothes that had grown considerably since she was last in here. There was enough room on the bed for one of her parents to sleep in at a time. And there it was, her suitcase, on the bed, the lid open and contents strewn all over, and tumbling over the sides.

There was no point being angry with her mother, or father, whichever one had violated the agreement and entered her room. She just wanted it back.

‘There is it, my darling. Safe and sound. Not lost.’

‘Thanks Mum. Thanks for finding it.’ Agatha’s voice was gentle, but she was breathing deeply. She stepped her way over the piles of clothes to the bed and quickly put all the contents back inside, closed the lid and zipped it up. ‘I’m going to take it back to my room now. Thanks again for finding it.’ Without waiting for an answer, she lifted the suitcase and stepped back over. When she got to her mother, she leaned to her and gave her a soft kiss on her cheek. When Agatha moved back, her mother’s hand came up and covered the spot on her cheek where the kiss had been left.

‘I love you Agatha Grace.’

‘I know. I love you too Mum.’

They stood for a moment; their eyes locked together. With her case in one hand, Agatha walked past her mother toward the door. She pulled hard on it, widening it enough to get herself and the suitcase through leaving behind her parents’ room and her mother.

Once inside her own room, with the door locked, Agatha placed it down on the bed and quickly searched through. There was only one thing she really needed