WHAT IS IN THE BOX OF STUFF FROM MY MUM

• The T-shirt I’ve already told you about. I give it a deep sniff, and it’s like magic: a calming, comforting smell. I hold it in front of me, opened out, and try to imagine Mum filling out the black fabric. It’s a lady’s size eight according to the label, so Mum wasn’t all that big. (I lay it out on top of my bed.)
  
  
• The card is next. (I read the rhyme, although I know it by heart: I just like to imagine her hand holding the pen that wrote the words. She probably wore dark nail varnish, and her hands will have been slim and pale.)
  
  
• There are three little beanbag cats, all different. There’s a black-and-white one, a stripy one and a pink one. There should be four, actually, because I saw the full set in a toyshop once, and it’s a blue one that’s missing. But I’ve only got three and that’s OK. I’ve never given them names, in case Mum did and I wouldn’t want to choose different names. (I arrange them on top of the T-shirt in a neat line.)
  
  
• A little packet of Haribo sweets. A bit odd, I guess, but Gram says Mum loved Haribos, and at her funeral everyone who came was given a packet. I can’t really remember, but I like the idea of people eating sweets at a funeral, although I didn’t eat mine obviously, which is why I’ve still got them. (I put the packet next to the cats.)
  
  
• Last, there’s a leaflet advertising a concert for a singer called Felina who was appearing at a music festival on Newcastle’s quayside. Except Mum died before the concert took place. I like to think she was looking forward to it in the way I look forward to stuff like Christmas.