one-hit wonder

by Lisa Jewell

  “Er‌—thank you, too, Zander,” said Father Anthony with a hint of confusion in his voice. “So. Anyone else?” But no one came forward. He caught Ana’s eye and beckoned her. Ana took a deep breath and pulled a tightly folded piece of paper from her bag. She smoothed it out with sweaty fingers.

  “Bee,” she began, “was my sister. But Bee was a stranger. I have come to know Bee only in the past fortnight‌—through the people here today. Through your stories and your emotions. To me, Bee was a mirage, but to you she was real, and I now know that to all of us she was a mystery. I have experienced every possible emotion getting to know Bee over the past weeks. Joy on finding the same records in her collection as I have in mine. Confusion on finding her life devoid of emotional depth. Deep and instantaneous love on meeting her closest friends. Sadness on learning of the tragedy and pain in her life, which she shared with no one. Pride on encountering the love and loyalty she inspired in others. And shame on finding that she was so much more than I’d allowed myself to imagine her to be.

  “Bee was not a straightforward woman. Bee was not an easy woman. Bee was a dichotomy. She was sweet and sour. Happy and sad. Good and bad. High and low. Nasty and nice. She could bring the best out of people and inspire them. But she could also intimidate and crush. She was loyal to her friends but indifferent to her family. She could take a huge interest in a person and then forget their birthday. She was private. She was self-sufficient. She was independent. But she was closed. And guarded. And dismissive. She made mistakes. And went far out of her way to pay for them. She was beautiful. But she depended on more than beauty to make her way through life. She was unattainable and she was distant, but she was emotional and giving. She was an inspiration and a disappointment. She was everything and nothing.

  “But Bee,” she continued, “was Bee. And just being Bee was enough, because Bee was special and Bee was unforgettable. Bee was my sister . . . God bless her soul.”

  She cleared her throat, refolded the damp piece of paper, and edged her way back to Flint, keeping her eyes to the ground. Flint immediately put an arm around her shoulder. She felt another hand squeeze her arm, and when she looked up, she saw Lol, smiling crookedly at her with big tears plopping off the end of her nose. “That was beautiful,” she mouthed before launching herself at Ana and hugging the life out of her. Ana hugged her back and then felt tears dampening her own cheeks.

  And then she felt Flint stiffen and grab her by the arm. “Ana,” he whispered urgently, “look.”

  Ana unpeeled herself from Lol and wiped some tears from her cheeks. And as she turned, she jumped. Because, walking toward her, one arm supporting a large bouquet of white lilies and the other threaded through the arm of a joyful-looking Mr. Redwood, was her mother.

  forty-three

  She was wearing a gray tweed jacket with enormous silver buttons, a long black pleated skirt, and a very smart gray felt hat with a lily in it. She looked frail and very beautiful‌—like an old Hollywood movie star.

  “Hello, darling,” she said smoothly as she approached Ana. “Hello, Clint.”

  Ana stared at her in wonder.

  “What?” said her mother with pursed lips.

  “Nothing,” said Ana, “nothing. I’m just . . . really glad you came.”

  “Yes, well,” she said, fanning herself with a piece of paper, “I won’t be staying long. I really don’t think I’ll manage more than a few minutes. I’m feeling very weak. But I think I will just say what I came to say and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Ana nodded numbly and made way for her mother to pass by. There was a long pause as Gay looked around her and then down at her paper and then around her again. Her eyes were filled with emotion, but her mouth was immobile. Until eventually she began to talk.

  “I’ve been listening,” she said, “from just over there.” She indicated the gravel path. “Listening to you all talking and it’s . . . well. It’s been humbling. When you give birth to a child, you have so many hopes and ambitions for that child. But generally you’re just happy if they follow convention and don’t harm themselves or anyone else. For most parents, that’s the best they can hope for. But when Belinda came into this world, I took one look at her and I knew she was going to be different. I knew she was going to exceed my expectations. And she did. Not in any of the usual ways. She didn’t excel at school. She didn’t have any particular skills. But she exceeded my expectations just by being her. This vibrant, joyful, rude, noisy, colorful, unmanageable, irritating bundle of raw energy and ambition. And do you know why that pleased me so much? It pleased me because she was turning into the sort of person I’d always wanted to be myself. She was born without inhibitions. I was born with far too many. And I resented her, I’m ashamed to say. I resented the way she just took hold of the world with both hands and shook it and shook it and shook it”‌—Gay used her hands to demonstrate‌—“until something fell out. I resented her independence. Her strength. And I tried to stifle those things. And eventually she had enough and she left home and went to live with her father. I’m afraid I didn’t make the transition very easy for her, but then, she didn’t make it very easy for me either. That was always one of the greatest problems with Bee and I. So different in certain ways and so infuriatingly alike in others. On the rare occasions when we did see each other, we made very hard work out of it. It can’t have been very pleasant for my late husband or for our daughter. But it seemed it was the only way we knew how to communicate. It was a terrible time for me. My eldest daughter was living out all my dreams and ambitions. She was famous. I used to watch her on the television and feel like my heart would burst with pride. But I was incapable of communicating that pride to Belinda. I’m not sure she ever really knew how terribly, terribly impressed I was by her. How in awe of her I often felt. I didn’t really know how to cope with feelings like that for my daughter. For someone I’d created. So, instead of making her feel good about her success, I tried my hardest to make her feel bad about it.

  “And then there was an incident, a long time ago. I’m afraid I behaved rather badly. Bee didn’t forgive me. In retrospect, I can see why. And I never saw her again. And it’s‌—” Gay stopped suddenly and clenched her face tight, holding in tears. “And it’s the worst feeling in the world knowing that now there’s no way of saying sorry. So‌—here I am. Hoping that somehow my words will make it through that piece of marble and to my darling daughter. Who was always so much better than me. In every way. God bless you, Belinda. And I’m so sorry. . . .”

  She scrunched up her piece of paper and walked away abruptly toward Mr. Redwood. Father Anthony wrapped up the proceedings. People laid their flowers at Bee’s grave. Lol gave everyone directions to the pub. People started walking away. But Ana stayed glued to the spot, watching her mother, who was sobbing into Mr. Redwood’s handkerchief. Ana had never seen her mother cry before. She’d seen her threaten to cry and pretend to cry and sniff dramatically into tissues, but never actually, really cry.

  “D’you mind waiting in the car for me?” she said to Flint.

  He looked at Gay and then at Ana. “ ’Course not,” he said. He dropped a kiss onto the end of her nose and walked away. When Ana got to her mother, Amy was already there, chatting away to her.

  “You’re a very brave woman,” she was saying, clutching Gay’s arm and smiling up into her face, “agoraphobia is a terrible affliction. But I’m so, so glad you managed to overcome it for this occasion. So glad. Your daughter was a wonderful girl, Mrs. Wills. So kind to me. So charming. One of the few people in this city I would have counted among my friends. And Ana is just a delight. Very different from her sister, but every bit as special. You’ve every right to be proud. Of both of them. Really . . .” She gave Gay’s arm one last squeeze and Ana watched in wonderment as a small smile started to form on Gay’s face. Not a smug smile, not a wicked smile, not a sly smile, not a fake smile‌—not any of the smiles in Gay’s usual smile repertoire, in fact. But an embarrassed and slig
htly pleased smile.

  “Thank you,” she heard Gay say, “that’s very kind of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling rather faint. I think I’m going to have to sit down.”

  “Of course. Of course.” Amy smiled at Ana and made her way daintily toward the car park, Freddie trotting along behind her.

  “Mum,” called Ana as she started to turn away, “wait. Just one minute. Hi, Mr. Redwood.” She smiled at the slim, dapper man in his blue blazer and tan cords and he grinned at her.

  “Hello there, Anabella. You’re looking very well.”

  Ana thanked him. “I wondered if I could have a moment alone with my mother, please. If that’s all right?”

  Mr. Redwood nodded effusively and grinned at them both again before heading back toward his shiny Rover in the car park.

  Gay turned to Ana. She looked pale and was breathing very heavily. “You’ve put on weight,” she said, eyeing her up and down.

  Ana rolled her eyes.

  “It suits you,” she said, “you look‌—nice.”

  Ana nearly fainted. “Er‌—thanks,” she managed.

  “I really am going to have to sit down, Anabella. This has been a very traumatic day for me.”

  “Well‌—let’s walk, then, toward the car. But I wanted to say a prayer first, with you. For Bee.” She indicated the grave with her eyes.

  Gay looked at her suspiciously, then nodded imperceptibly. Ana held her arm while she lowered herself to her knees, and for a moment the two women knelt in silence with their heads bowed. A dog barked somewhere in the distance and a breeze ruffled the thick foliage of an elm tree. Ana thought about holding her mother’s hand, or putting an arm around her bony shoulders. But every time she went to do it, she remembered her mother’s face the day they’d found out about Bee, and the way she’d slapped away her hand. So she didn’t, and after a minute or two, they both got to their feet and started heading back toward the car with three feet of space between them.

  “I’m glad you came, Mum.”

  Gay nodded. “Yes,” she said brusquely, “so am I. It’s good to close things properly. Isn’t it?”

  “How did you manage it?”

  “Well‌—I suppose I, er . . . psyched myself up, as they say. And Mr. Redwood’s been marvelous. In fact”‌—she stopped and turned to look Ana in the eye‌—“Mr. Redwood has proposed to me.”

  Ana stared at her mother incredulously. “What!”

  “Mr. Redwood. He proposed to me. A few evenings ago.”

  “And you said . . . ?”

  “Well‌—being a widow doesn’t really suit me, you know. I’m not the type to enjoy being alone. And now that you’ve finally come out of yourself, started making something of your life‌—well, I can’t expect you to sit around with me for the rest of your life. And Mr. Redwood really is a kind and caring man and . . .”

  Ana turned to her mother and grinned. “You said yes, didn’t you!”

  Her mother blushed very slightly and nodded. Ana screamed and then put her hand over her mouth when she remembered she was in a graveyard. She almost threw her arms around her mother, too, and then remembered that her mother would probably die of shock if she did. So she just stood there and beamed at her instead. “I think that’s fantastic,” she said. “Really, really fantastic.”

  “Well,” sighed her mother, “it’s not the most romantic of comings-together‌—more of a collaboration really. But I think it’s for the best.”

  “You will‌—you will be nice to him, won’t you, Mum?”

  “What on earth do you mean?”

  “I mean‌—you’ll appreciate him. Tell him he’s good. Tell him he’s kind. Tell him you’re glad you married him. Won’t you?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Anabella. I shall treat Mr. Redwood with every respect. The same respect he shows me.”

  Ana beamed at her and Gay allowed a smile to slip across her face.

  “So,” she said, “what of you? What are your plans for the future?”

  Ana shrugged. “D’you know?‌—I have no idea. None at all. I’m going to have to move out of the house I’m staying in next week. Gill’s got a long-term tenant moving in on the weekend. I’ll find another flat. Or I might stay with Flint . . . I’ve really been too busy to think about it.”

  Gay pursed her lips. “This Flint fellow. Was he a lover of Bee’s?”

  Ana giggled. “What?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Well‌—actually, yes. They did sleep together once. A long time ago. But he’s my lover now,” she said.

  She waited for her mother’s shocked reaction, but it didn’t come. “Yes,” she said dryly, “Hugh did tell me he suspected there was something going on with you two. Well. I’m glad. I like the look of him. And he’s a big man. I’ve always liked a big man. They make you feel very protected. And they tend toward gentleness.”

  They were approaching Mr. Redwood’s car now and Ana sped up. “Mr. Redwood,” she gushed, “Mum’s just told me the news and I think it’s wonderful. I think you’re completely insane, but it’s still wonderful. Congratulations!”

  Mr. Redwood’s neat face opened up into a massive grin. “Well‌—I can’t tell you how happy I am to have your approval, Anabella. That really does mean an awful lot to me.” He pulled himself nimbly from the car and gave Ana a strong, very un-English bear hug.

  “Welcome to the family, Mr. Redwood. And at least I know that you know exactly what you’re letting yourself in for.”

  He beamed at Gay. “Oh yes,” he said, “I most certainly do.”

  “Now,” said Gay, ignoring Mr. Redwood’s affectionate overtures, “I’ve brought you some things. Clothes. Books. Records. Et cetera. I thought you’d probably like to have them with you.”

  Mr. Redwood leapt to attention and unlocked the trunk of his car.

  “And there’s this, too.” Gay handed Ana a large manila envelope. “It’s a letter. To you. From Bee. I’m afraid I, er . . . well‌—I should have given it to you before. I’m not really very sure why I didn’t. It’s not something I’m very proud of. Maybe you should save it for later‌—save it for a quiet moment. Urgh . . .” She put her hand to her forehead and drew a breath. “Now I really, really must be going. I really am feeling rather . . . urgh.”

  Mr. Redwood dashed from the back of the car to the front and opened the passenger door for Gay, who collapsed daintily onto the seat.

  Ana called Flint and Keith over to help Mr. Redwood transfer her boxes from the back of his car to Flint’s and then Gay said good-bye.

  “You will keep in touch, won’t you? Things will be much easier now that I’ve got Mr. Redwood. He can answer the phone for me. . . .”

  “Or you could answer the phone for yourself?”

  “Well. One thing at a time, Anabella. One thing at a time. And thank you for this, by the way. For organizing this. I think it’s been a very good thing.” She smiled tightly and Ana smiled back at her.

  “Me, too, Mum, me, too.” She kissed Gay lightly on one cheek and closed the door on her.

  “Oh, Clint,” said Gay, suddenly winding down the window and beckoning at him. “I wanted to apologize for last week. For your hand. I’m terribly sorry. It was most unnecessary and really rather vulgar. I’m most embarrassed.”

  Flint shrugged it off and waved a nearly healed palm at her, and then Mr. Redwood and Gay reversed from their parking space and drove away.

  Ana turned to Flint as the car disappeared from view. “Thank you,” she said.

  “What for?”

  “For that. For what you did with Mum. She wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

  “Yeah she would,” he said, enveloping her in a hug.

  “She wouldn’t,” she insisted, wrapping her arms around his huge torso, “and you are wonderful.” She tipped her head up toward his and smiled as his lips touched hers.