the girl in the yellow dress - part 11

Let’s go back a couple of weeks and fill in a few gaps, although you might have guessed some of what happened because we know for a fact that Celia is wrong, Sebastian never gave Alice the dress…

Celia had left the flat in a mess. She'd hastily grabbed most of her things including the expensive but rarely used, coffee maker, he noticed the space on the granite worktop immediately. Whatever would fit in her Porsche she’d taken.

He’d seen the car roar off down the road at speed as she left.

There was a scribbled note on the chalkboard in the kitchen, the one they used to write little love notes to each other on as well as reminders to buy bread or milk. This one had no kisses, just the words “will collect later.” An arrow pointed downwards to the floor where there sat a large cardboard box.

He peeked inside, some CDs on top and below that clothes. He dug deeper under the frothy yellow lace to see if there was anything worth having. No it felt just like shoes. All girls stuff.

It was an impulsive decision to take it to the charity shop but he couldn’t stand to see it there as a reminder.

Besides he’d have to move out soon too, he couldn’t afford the rent on his own. It would all have to go and who knew when she would return for her stuff.

It made some sense inside his head but he was still emotional and upset on the outside when he dropped the box off.

“I no longer need these.” He muttered.

Mrs Spratt at the hospice shop was a sensitive soul who was forever reading things wrong. She took in his dishevelled appearance, the droop of his shoulders and mistook it for grief. She believed as it was a hospice shop every donation was a gift from the departed.

As she started unpacking the box it was with a tear in her eye.

“Poor love, just lost his girlfriend.” She whispered to Mrs Gray. “Car crash.” She added out of nowhere, imagination running riot.

“Well let’s get it priced and get it out then.” Mrs Gray wasn’t heartless but neither was she known for being the sentimental type. Lifting out the yellow dress she surveyed it carefully, even giving the armpits a good sniff.  “Good quality label; it should sell.” She stuck a price tag on it and hung it in the vintage section.