September
Lizzie cradled her tea mug in both hands and looked out of the window, blinking in the warm sunlight. The leaves were starting to turn now; red and orange mingled with fading green. The wind was whipping wisps of cloud across the surface of the sky, shaking the trees in the churchyard opposite the shop with some force. Lizzie noticed a few conkers drop to the ground like tiny, spiky bombs. It made her think of being a child when she and Bea would rush from tree to tree, collecting as many as they could carry, stuffing their pockets so that they could barely walk. Some people hated autumn as the trees lost their leaves and the inevitability of winter crept in, but Lizzie had loved autumn as a child. Living in the countryside, they were much more in touch with the changing seasons. She could remember days outside, scrumping for the last remaining apples, watching as the pumpkins her father planted snaked around the garden like something from Cinderella and most of all just being with her sister. As a small child, everything had been about Bea; playing with her, running after her as she ran through piles of leaves, following her instructions whilst they built dens and hide-outs. She had loved every second.
Her thoughts turned to Sam as they often seemed to when she thought of Bea these days. She had phoned once since their trip to the zoo and spoken to Joe. Lizzie could tell from his tone that he was pleased to hear from her but they hadn’t discussed meeting again. In truth, once Lizzie had returned to the relative security of the bookshop, she had let herself off the hook a little. She wanted to maintain contact with Sam and Joe but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face Sam’s bald questioning again. It churned up too many things that she’d rather keep buried. However, Lizzie was starting to realise that the past couldn’t be ignored forever. Truths were going to be faced. Bea had made sure of that.
The second letter was sitting on her kitchen counter like a dare. She couldn’t believe how quickly a month had passed since she had read the first letter.
She felt a shiver of excitement as she moved towards the counter and picked up the envelope. These final words from her sister were precious morsels to be savoured, even if she was nervous of their contents. She glanced up at the clock. She still had time before work. She held up the envelope and breathed in. There was a definite scent of Bea; it was faint but it was still there. Lizzie smiled as she carefully sliced it open and took out the letter.
Dear Lizzie,
So now I know that if you’re reading this you will have spent a day with Joe and Sam. Thank you for doing that. It means the world to me that you have made that connection. I know you didn’t know Joe properly so I hope you can see what a good man he is. As for Sam, I can only imagine that he had a lot of questions for you. I hope he didn’t give you too hard a time and that you were able to see past all that to the lovely boy inside. I just wish I could have been there to see it.
So you might breathe a sigh of relief when I tell you that my next wish is not about the family. It’s about you – all about you, lovely Lizzie.
Do you remember how important your friends were, when you were a teenager? I do. I remember you all hanging out at Fernando’s drinking milkshakes and eating cheesecake because you wanted to be like American teenagers. I remember the first time we saw Grease together and I watched your face as you absorbed every detail, loving every second. The week after, you and your friends had decided to become the Pink Ladies and you told me that you wanted to be like Rizzo because she was the coolest. You were such a close group, although you sometimes got a little out of hand (following that dare to tell the woman on the bus that her baby looked like a monkey was not perhaps your best move – I never thought Mum was going to let you out of the house after that). So you were naughty but you weren’t mean and you’ve got to admit they were happy times.
After the fall-out with Mum and Alex, I guess you felt let down. I know your friends’ mothers wouldn’t allow them to stay in touch with you and I know you felt so wounded by that and what went on afterwards that you found it hard to trust anyone apart from me.
Well here’s the thing, my lovely sister. I think it’s time you made a new friend. I mean obviously, no one could ever replace me because I’m bloody brilliant but seriously, Lizzie Lou, I think you need to find someone to talk to, someone outside the family, preferably who knows nothing about us.
So that’s my next wish. Make a new friend, Lizzie. Find someone who will be kind and who you can trust and tell them everything that’s in your heart. It will help. I promise.
Love you,
Bea x
Lizzie smiled and put the letter down on the counter, smoothing her hand over the paper as if by touching Bea’s words, she could somehow bring back the essence of her sister. She was touched by this wish. It felt so personal, as if her sister was looking after her by making it. And it was true. She had lived without a proper friend, excepting Bea, for so many years. It had been deliberate really; a way of protecting herself from what she saw as inevitable disappointment. If you didn’t let people get too close, they couldn’t let you down and so you would never get hurt. It had suited her because she had always had Bea. Now, of course, that was no longer the case.
The thought of making a new friend, of having someone to talk to, sort of excited her but it frightened her too. What if it went wrong? What if they let her down or rejected her? Bea wasn’t there to help her pick up the pieces so what would she do then?
On the other hand, she could see the value of having someone to talk to, someone with whom to share your thoughts and feelings. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to share everything though. There were events from her past that she wanted to leave in the past but she had enjoyed talking to Joe and maybe it was time to open up a little, even if she just talked about Bea. There was comfort in sharing tales of her sister and joy too. Maybe it was time to allow herself that.
She noticed that her heart was beating a little faster as she made her way downstairs to open the shop and she recognised a tiny knot of excitement in the pit of her stomach. There was anticipation too but it was as if this latest wish made sense. It felt right somehow even if it scared the hell out of her.
Of course the question was, who to choose. When Lizzie heard the back door open and a flurry of paws as Mrs Nussbaum arrived with Bambi, she realised that the old lady was probably the closest thing to a friend that she had. However, they had never really opened up to one another. It was partly a generational issue. Mrs Nussbaum belonged to an age when feelings were not readily shared. Lizzie knew that she missed her husband but she never really talked about it on a day to day basis. Life at the bookshop was a reassuring mix of crosswords, orders and helping people to choose books. Lizzie wondered if she could be anything other than an acquaintance; a good one but an acquaintance nonetheless. She smiled at them both as they appeared at the back of the shop.
‘Guten Morgen, Lizzie,’ beamed Mrs Nussbaum.
‘Ro ro,’ echoed Bambi in greeting.
‘Morning, both,’ smiled Lizzie. ‘And how are we today?’
‘Ja, still very old but still above ground,’ said Mrs Nussbaum with a wry smile. ‘Shall I put on the kettle?’
‘Lovely,’ said Lizzie.
The morning passed like so many mornings. They drank tea, Mrs Nussbaum read out the crossword clues and they completed it in record time. ‘We might have to move on to something more tricky,’