‘God, she kept this?’ Zaza shrieks from the other side of the room, still rummaging around in the boxes we’ve pulled out. She holds up an outfit Pia wore to our one and only house party about eleven years ago when we all lived in Hackney. It was Zaza’s birthday and she pretty much begged us to let her have ‘a small gathering’ to celebrate. It turned into a mammoth fancy dress party that saw us getting into trouble with the neighbours and being issued a warning from the landlord. We never did it again, and the Batman outfit Zaza is holding up never did get another viewing – not to our knowledge anyway.

‘Whoa!’ I laugh.

‘She sat sewing these sequins on for hours,’ she marvels, reminding me of how satisfied Pia was when she returned home one day, looking like she’d just raided an arts and crafts shop with bags of fabric, thread and millions of ideas on how she could turn it into something magical.

‘She took it seriously,’ Mike nods. ‘Don’t you remember what she made me wear?’

‘I have it here!’ sings Zaza, pulling a homemade Robin costume out of the box, her grin wider than ever.

‘That bloody thing. It really chafed!’ he laughs, grabbing hold of it and running it through his fingers. ‘Knew I’d be her sidekick for life that night though.’

His words land with a punch.

We continue working away in silence.

I can’t help the tears that stream down my face and on to her beaten leather Oliver Bonas satchel in my hands.

I hate that this is a reality for us.

‘I brought some snacks. I’ll get them,’ Zaza mumbles, shuffling past.

I hear her sobs escape as soon as she exits the room.

‘Alcohol might be a better idea,’ mutters Mike.

5

Mike

That was never going to go down as one of life’s more enjoyable days, but I have to admit I’m relieved as I shut the door on Vicky and Zaza at the end of the night, and begrudgingly grateful to Pia for making sure we came together to do it. Her funeral was a day of reminiscing with others, but today it felt like those memories were tangible and led by Pia because those clothes were ones she’d decided to see hanging in her wardrobe. They meant something to her.

Turns out nothing is quick and easy when you’re saying goodbye to the love of your life. I guess the pain and heartache are the only exceptions to that – they both come flooding in and floor you before you have a chance to fathom what your life has become. Everything else is slow and agonizing. Creeping and lingering in the darkness.