A Hundred Pieces of Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

arrived at Gina’s new flat at half past nine for their regular Saturday-morning coffee date. It was a routine they’d got into when Jason and Stuart were at football practice together, and now carried on while Jason took two-year-old Willow to the out-of-town supermarket for some father-daughter bonding and illicit Haribo.
    Naomi wasn’t great at hiding her feelings at the best of times, but the horror on her face as she squeezed her way past the boxes stacked in the hallway was so blatant that Gina nearly laughed.
    ‘Oh, my God, Gee,’ said Naomi, struggling to unhook her jacket from where it had caught on a stray coat-hanger. ‘Where did all this come from?’
    ‘Where’d you think?’ Gina moved a box of electrical leads away from the door so Naomi could get in. ‘Dryden Road. It came yesterday. I’ve been up half the night unpacking.’
    ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to stick it all in storage? Sort it out bit by bit? Seriously, this would give me a panic attack.’
    Naomi wasn’t a collector like Gina. She and Jason lived in a new home on the edge of town, an exclusive development with views of the park and the cathedral. Their house was modern, and so tidy Naomi had a robot Hoover that could go round the whole downstairs without getting stuck on any clutter.
    Gina wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She’d already despatched three boxes that morning and dropped off some books and kitchen clutter at the charity shop. ‘I can’t afford more storage. You have no idea how much it costs to keep your sofa under a warm roof. It’d be cheaper to rent my possessions their own flat. Anyway, it would just stay there. This way I’ve got to sort through it. Sort or die.’
    ‘You joke, but this is like something from one of those documentaries.’ Naomi eyed the towering stack of boxes marked ‘Crockery’. ‘The ones where they have to dig people out from under their lifetime collection of used Christmas wrapping paper.’
    ‘It’s not as bad as that. Look, I’ve got a system,’ said Gina. She gestured towards the sorting boxes by the window.
    GIVE AWAY was stacked with paperbacks, vases and a bedside radio. SELL had a couple of limited-edition Emma Bridgewater plates that had once taken pride of place on her Welsh dresser. KEEP had only one thing: a 1940s brass desk-lamp Gina had found years ago in an antiques shop. In her head, when she’d bought it, it had formed the basis of a classic New York-themed study, but had always got lost in the clutter of her house. Here, against the white walls and empty shelves, it would be a proper feature.
    ‘Wow. You’re going to make some homeless kitties very happy.’ Naomi got as near to the big window as she could, and peered down at the drizzly high street, already busy with weekend shoppers. ‘I see you’ve got plenty of charity shops to choose from down there.’
    ‘There are five,’ said Gina. ‘Local dog rescue, Breast Cancer Care, Oxfam, Marie Curie Nurses, and Hospice at Home. I’ve already taken four bags to the dogs’ home. What?’ she added, when Naomi turned back, her eyebrows raised. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I don’t have to support the breast-cancer shop. The dogs are nearer. And they open earlier.’
    ‘I don’t mean that.’ Naomi picked her way back to where Gina was standing. ‘I mean, are you feeling up to sorting things out? On your own?’
    ‘I’m fine,’ said Gina, surprised. She’d thought she looked quite good: not having access to a bathroom’s worth of cosmetics had pared her routine down to an almost Parisian minimalist chic. ‘Really. It’s my heart that’s broken, nothing else. Why? Do I look like death warmed up?’
    ‘You look shattered.’ Naomi was always honest. Kind, but as honest as a lifelong friend – and someone who’d grown up with older brothers – could be. ‘You’ve got that shiny-eyed look you used to get when you wanted to pretend you were feeling better than you were. Are you sure