by KE Payne
“It sounds idyllic,” Judy said. “David and I always thought we might like a place by the sea.” Her face fell. “Then I lost him, and Livvy needed me more than ever, and…” She cut her glance away. “Now I’ve lost her too.”
“I’m sorry.” Ash reached over and captured Judy’s hand.
“I have Chloe now to keep me occupied.” Judy laughed softly. “I think we’ll be good for one another.”
“How’s she been?” Ash asked.
“Remarkably brave,” Judy replied.
“And…her father?”
Ash noticed the flicker of anger cross Judy’s face.
“Still in Australia,” Judy said, “with his new family and with no intention of coming over, despite everything.”
“Classy.” Ash raised her eyebrows.
“If there’s one thing Stephen isn’t,” Judy said, “it’s classy.” She turned her head away from Ash. “She’s late.” She squeezed Ash’s hand, and Ash sensed Judy forcing her attention away from her sadness. “Perhaps not.” Judy looked at the clock. “Were you early?”
“I…”
Chloe was late?
“More tea?” Judy nodded at Ash’s cup.
“I’m good.” Ash lifted her cup. “But thanks anyway.”
The chime of the doorbell in the hall made Ash turn her head towards the door.
“That’ll be her.” Judy rose, excused herself to Ash, then left the room.
Ash heard Nat’s voice out in the hallway a second after she heard the front door open. Wanting to escape, but knowing she couldn’t, Ash drank back her tea. She flicked cake crumbs from her trousers, fussed about with her fringe, tidying it, then cursed herself for caring how she looked. She didn’t give a damn about what Nat did or didn’t think of her any more. Ash’s hand strayed back to her hair. Nat was nothing to her now, and Ash nothing to her.
So why did she feel so nervous?
The closer Nat’s voice sounded, the faster Ash’s heart decided to beat. Ludicrous. And deeply annoying.
“We’re just in here.” Judy appeared in the doorway, holding the door open with one hand. “Tea?”
“Perfect.” Nat followed Judy. “Thanks.”
Nat’s eyes settled on Ash the second she entered the room. If seeing Ash sitting in Judy’s front room had caused a reaction inside her, Ash thought, she hid it very well in that initial look. There was nothing. No flicker of emotion, no hint of surprise. No warmth. Nothing.
Ash was aware she’d stopped breathing. Adrenaline swept through her, from her scalp to her toes, blurring her vision, heating her cheeks as Nat’s eyes rested on hers.
“Ash.” Finally Nat smiled.
“How are you?” Ash grimaced at her starched politeness. “I mean—”
“I’m good. You?”
Fine until a minute ago.
“Same. Yeah.” Ash nodded.
“It’s been…how long?” Nat tipped her head to one side like an inquisitive puppy. It was an endearing gesture that was still so familiar to Ash, and one of the many characteristics that had made Ash fall so deeply in love with her, once upon a time.
“Gosh…fifteen years or so?” Ash raised her eyes heavenward, as if thinking hard. Sixteen years, five months. Not that I’ve been counting.
“Has it really been that long?” Nat whistled quietly through her teeth.
“Seems like only yesterday, doesn’t it?” Ash replied, probably more tartly than she’d meant to.
“Yes.” Nat studied Ash closely, forcing Ash to lower her eyes, uncomfortable at the scrutiny. “In some ways it does.”
Ash studied the carpet at her feet with minute precision, desperate to avoid eye contact again with Nat. She was here, right in front of her, speaking to her after so many years. The reality of the situation unsettled Ash almost as much as Nat’s emollient disposition—as soothing as her velvet voice—was tangling Ash’s senses.
“Well, it’s lovely to see you again.” It was as though Nat’s manners kicked in a nanosecond later, and any hint of Ash’s discomfort was lost to her. Nat approached Ash, who sat, dumbly, and stared up at her. “Although I wish it was under happier circumstances,” Nat added.
“Indeed.” Ash rose, remembering her manners too. She was being childish, she knew, and all the hurt and pain which she’d expected to burst from her at seeing Nat simply hadn’t materialized. Ash was surprised. She’d expected something—anything. Bitterness, hate. Melancholy, even. There was nothing. In front of her was the girl she’d loved all those years ago, holding out her hand for Ash to shake, but now, unlike at the wake, Ash felt absolutely nothing. Ash shook Nat’s hand, but before she knew what was happening, Nat had pulled her into a quick hug. Ash kept some distance between their bodies without even thinking. An automatic reflex. She sat back down, painfully aware of the fire that she could feel creeping across her cheeks. Had the embrace been for Judy’s benefit? Or hers? Inside, Ash squirmed, both at Nat’s unwanted tactility and for her own blushing response to it.
“I heard you got it.” Judy passed Nat her tea. “Livvy told me. Before…you know.” She smiled. “Congratulations. Does this mean you’ll be leaving St. Bart’s?”
“Thank you.” Nat sat down. “It was a lot of hard work, but I got there in the end.” She smiled at Judy. “And yes, it means leaving St. Bart’s after all this time. But I think I’m ready for the change.”
“It’s certainly no mean feat at your age,” Judy said.
“I was overwhelmed to be offered it.” Nat caught Ash’s eye.
Ash listened to the conversation, wondering at what point one of them might enlighten her. Suddenly Judy’s front room seemed very small and her urge to leave overwhelmed her again; she’d seen Judy, expressed her condolences again, done her duty. Now she was wedged in between her ex-girlfriend and the mother of her dead best friend, and she wanted to leave. Now.
“Consultancy.” Finally Judy addressed her.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nat has gained her consultancy at the hospital,” Judy said. “At just thirty-five. Livvy always said you’d go far.” She addressed a still-smiling Nat.
Ash stared at Nat. “Congratulations,” she said, the words sticking in her throat.
“Thank you.”
Nat’s smile, it appeared to Ash, wavered slightly under Ash’s scrutiny.
“Sounds as though you’ve dedicated your life to your career,” Ash continued. If it sounded bitter, Ash was pleased. It was meant to.
“I focused on what I wanted,” Nat replied tartly. “And now I have it.”
“You sound just like your parents.” Ash held her gaze, memories burning inside her. The arguments, Nat’s pathological fear of disappointing her parents. Her inability to stand up to them.
“It was all down to my hard work,” Nat said, “not my parents.”
“Yes, you were always clever,” Ash said. “Far too clever for me.”
They stared at one another, neither wanting to break the stare. Finally, Nat looked away.
“It’s been a lifetime’s work,” Nat said. She picked up her cup, Ash noting with satisfaction the slight tremble in her hands. “And I had to make…sacrifices along the way. But that makes getting it all the more satisfying, knowing I did the right thing.”
That, finally, elicited something in Ash, and she glared at her, infuriated. After years of silence, Nat was actually sitting there in Livvy’s old front room, trying to justify her past actions with a pile of bullshit cryptic sentences and knowing looks. Was she serious?
Ash had heard enough. She didn’t even want to be in London any more, let alone be sitting opposite her ex-girlfriend while she spouted on about sacrifices and lifetime ambitions, knowing what she’d done to Ash. Ash had her life in Cornwall to get back to, rather than sitting in Judy Fancourt’s front room tying herself up in knots because the mere presence of Nat was sending her mind into turmoil. Ash had people who loved her and who needed her. She had her dog waiting for her in the cottage, Gabe and al
l the guys down at the boatyard. The thought of it wrapped itself around Ash like a warm blanket. Her dog, her adopted family, and her perfect life. Ash glanced up at the clock. Four p.m. If she hurried, she could get the direct service down from Paddington and be back in her cottage by midnight.
“Mrs. F., I’m afraid I’ll have to love you and leave you.” Ash clambered up from the sofa. “The cake was awesome. Just as I remembered it.” She stood, awkwardly, in front of Judy, aware of Nat’s eyes still on her.
“You have to go?” Judy looked up at her from her chair. “Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve kept you.” She rose. “I had something to give you from Livvy, as well. And things to talk to you about, but as usual I’ve gone on far too long.”
“Something from Livvy?” Ash asked, glancing again to the clock.
“Listen to me, fussing.” Judy held Ash at arm’s length. “Of course you must go.” Her face was crestfallen, pricking at Ash’s conscience. “It can wait, I’m sure.”
“I suppose I could…”
“She was desperate for you to have it.” Judy squeezed her hands.
Ash glanced at the clock one more time, her heart sinking.
Guess she wasn’t getting that train home tonight after all.
❖
“Livvy wrote them,” Judy said, “in the hospice. While she still could.” She handed a large envelope each to Ash and Nat. “And gave me strict instructions to give them to you when I saw you after she…” She looked away, clearing her throat. “So. There you have it.”
Ash’s throat tightened. She glanced over to Nat and saw that she too had blanched a little.
“We understand.” Nat spoke before Ash could.
Ash turned her envelope over, Livvy’s spidery handwriting on the front, still the same from her school days, looking back at her:
Flash.
Ash smiled. Her nickname from school. Livvy had circled her name in gold pen and drawn little sparks around the circle. Just like the old days.
She sensed Nat watching her and lifted her envelope for her to see. Nat mirrored the action, a pained smile on her face.
Crackles.
Nat’s name was surrounded by a cloud, a large sunshine drawn in the top right-hand corner of the envelope.
“I think your nickname always made more sense,” Nat said. “Never did get how she came up with mine.”
“Do you want to open them now?” Ash asked Nat. She turned to Judy. “Is that okay?”
“Take your time.” Judy gathered up the tea tray. “I have things I can get on with in the kitchen.”
Discreet. Ash watched as Judy left the room, then focused back on her envelope. No point in putting it off. She sat back down and tore it open, hearing Nat do the same.
A tumble of smaller envelopes fell from inside, each with a number on the front. Ash spread them out on the floor by her feet, counting them. Eight letters. She opened the large envelope further and thumbed out a white piece of A4 paper, folded in half. Frowning, she unfolded it and read:
Dearest Flash,
It’s been too long! Last time we spoke (okay, emailed), Widgeon had torn a tendon chasing rabbits in the fields at the back of your cottage. How is the poor fellow? Better, I hope, and not left you with a whopping great vet’s bill.
How’s the boat stuff doing? Making you shitloads of money, I trust. How’s Gabe? Still surfing more than working?
Ash had never read a letter with so much sorrow. Written in Livvy’s distinctive handwriting, her voice clear and loud, it was as though she’d just written it there and then and pressed it into Ash’s hand.
So, to the serious stuff (yeah, boring, I know). I’m writing this in St. Tom’s Hospice. Yes, I know you’re probably furious I never told you I was sick, but the truth is, Flash, I never for one moment thought it’d get the better of me. I thought, what’s the point in worrying everyone when I’ll get better? But I didn’t get better. Damn. Them’s the breaks, as Mr. Pritchard always used to say in geography class.
Truth is, Flash, I’m worried about Chloe and I wondered if you and Crackles could help take some of that worry away.
Ash looked away at the mention of Chloe’s name, blinked, then returned to the letter.
Do you remember the wish list we wrote? You, me, and Nat? That was the night you pulled a muscle in your arm dancing to Metallica in my bedroom and you thought you were having a heart attack so you wrote down all the things you wanted to do before you died because you were convinced you were going to die? Then me and Crackles did the same and it turned out our lists had pretty much all the same things on them? Freaky.
Then when your arm got better and you realized you weren’t going to die after all, we all said we’d do our wish list while we were at uni instead.
It never happened. (I’d draw a sad face here, but you know even the mention of emoticons brings me out in hives.) You changed your mind about uni, buggered off around Europe getting up to God only knows what, and the rest is history.
Of course, I always thought that one day we’d all find the time to get back together and then perhaps we could have a right old laugh doing our wish list. Three old ladies running amok. Probably wearing gold lamé, because that’s what old ladies wear, isn’t it? Gold lamé. And lots of purple.
But, hey, guess what? I’ll never get old. I’ll never wear purple. I’ll never get to complete my wish list.
Poop.
So that’s where you come in! I told Chloe about the wish list years ago and we thought we might do some of them together, but now that’s never going to happen either.
Double poop.
So I wanted to ask you and Crackles to complete it for me and take her to the places I’ll never get to see. It’ll be healing for her, I think. Take her mind off stuff, you know? So will you do it for me? Fulfil my wish? Do say you will (pretty please).
Livvy had underlined this last line, adding a note in the margin which said: with a cherry on top, making Ash smile.
You’ve noticed the eight letters inside the envelope, I’m sure. They’re numbered one to eight (I’m clever like that). Eight wishes. Yes, I know we wrote at least a hundred and three wishes, but did you really think I’d expect you and Crackles to travel to New York first class? Or invite Brad Pitt out for dinner? (Whose idea was that one? Oh yeah, mine.)
So with the idea of wishes and unfinished business in mind, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing eight things which I always wanted to do but never got round to doing, and which I think are absolutely doable with a fourteen-year-old in tow. And this is the really clever bit: I’ve done four wishes for the London area, and four wishes for the sunny old Cornwall area, so you and Nat won’t have to be too indisposed. Crafty, hey? If I’ve got my sums right, you could totally do four wishes one week in Nat’s neck of the woods, the other four wishes another week in yours. I’ve given Mum some money for hotels and trains and stuff like that so neither of you will be out of pocket. See? I’ve thought of everything. Chloe will tell you when she has holidays coming up, so all three of you can do the list in one fell swoop and make me a very happy mother indeedy.
So will you do it? All eight for me? Or at least have a fair old crack at it?
Hmm, I’m going to have to stop there, Flash. I have to write this all over again for Crackles and I’m getting tired, and I’ll probably end up writing her an incomprehensible letter and she’ll think I’ve gone quite mad.
Thank you, Flash.
Until another time and another place,
Livvy xxx
Ash gazed at Livvy’s name, then traced a finger across the three kisses. It was as though she was in the room with them now, watching over them as they read her letter. It was pure Livvy, her writing sounding just as she’d always done, funny and lovely. Ash stole a look to Nat, reading her own letter. The expression on Nat’s face when she finally looked back up told Ash that she felt just as moved as Ash did.
“The wish list,” Nat said. Ash watched her as she folded up her letter and pl
aced it back into its envelope. “I’d forgotten about it.” She looked at Ash. “Were we…? I mean, were you and I…?”
“Together then?” Ash finished her question. “Yes.” Her answer was clipped. How could Nat not remember? “I remember thinking how awesome it was all going to be, but of course I had no idea you weren’t thinking the same thing.”
“Don’t.” Nat turned her head away, pricking an irritation in Ash. “This isn’t the time or place.”
The underlying resentment, dormant since she’d seen Nat at the funeral but never far away, threatened to break cover. Ash was already disappointed with herself for allowing just one flippant comment from Nat earlier about her wonderful life and even more wonderful career to affect her so badly. She’d been determined not to let the death of Livvy rake up old memories, knowing that she’d only managed to bury them just under the surface for the last sixteen years. But there was something about the way Nat had asked if they were together when they’d talked about the wish list that brought all Ash’s resentments to the fore.
“Don’t what?” Ash took a deep breath, inhaling down the words she was sure were just another look or word from Nat away. How dare she rock up at Judy’s acting like they were old friends, and then tell her not to speak her mind? “Don’t talk about the past? Or about what you did?”
“This is about Livvy and Chloe”—Nat held up her letter—“not us.”
Ash saw her eyes dart to the door, then back to hers.
“Worried Judy will hear the truth about you?” Ash lowered her voice and cast a look to the lounge door as well, imagining Judy just behind it, wondering at their reactions to her daughter’s letters. She stemmed her anger. Now wasn’t the time to start a fight with Nat, tempting though it was.
With an icy glare to Nat, Ash leaned over, scooping her eight letters from the floor. The amicable conversation she’d hoped for had turned sour. She placed her letters back into her larger envelope, along with Livvy’s letter, and stood. “As you say,” Ash said, “this is neither the time or place.” She made to go.