by Annie Lyons
‘I do,’ said Lizzie, thinking that she really did know about sisters looking out for their siblings. ‘And don’t worry. It’s really none of my business.’ And it’s never likely to be, she thought.
‘Well I’ll see you around. Pop in any time. I could do with some light relief from my brother’s erratic moods,’ smiled Susie.
‘Okay,’ said Lizzie. ‘See you.’ She locked the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. Susie was lovely but Lizzie decided to steer clear of Ben. She might give the coffee shop a miss for a while.
Arriving home a little later to find Bea’s letters where she had left them that morning made Lizzie smile. She wondered what her sister would have thought of Ben. Bea would have given him a piece of her mind. She wouldn’t have let him speak to her as Lizzie had. Her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Joe.
‘How about London Zoo at 11 on Sunday? Looking forward to seeing you.’
After her encounter with Ben, she found his words reassuring. There were people who wanted to see her, who were looking forward to seeing her and they were people who probably loved Bea as much as she did. She experienced a tingle of excited anticipation as she texted back.
‘Great. Looking forward to it too.’
She realised that this was true and it was a strange and new sensation. It was as if there were two versions of Lizzie now; the lonely one that lived in her safe, protected world here with her books and eccentric customers, and the other Lizzie, who was about to embark on a journey into the unknown. Lizzie wasn’t sure which version she wanted to be but knew that she had to find out.
Chapter Four
The Following Sunday
Lizzie had forgotten how long the walk was from Camden Town to the zoo and arrived out of breath, late and with a new blister on her heel. It had been drizzly and overcast when she left home but now the cloud was lifting and the early autumn sun was doing its best to warm the day. She spotted Joe and Sam waiting at the entrance wearing cagoules and rucksacks. She smiled and waved, hurrying across the road to greet them with a breathless, ‘Sorry! Have you been here long?’ Joe dismissed her concern with a smiling shake of his head but Sam was less forgiving.
‘Over half an hour,’ he said with a frown.
Joe raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s fine, Lizzie. Don’t worry,’ he said, giving Sam a warning nudge.
‘Okay. Sorry. Shall we go in?’ said Lizzie, feeling as if she’d fallen at the first hurdle and needed to keep them moving. The queue was long and slow and as they waited, Sam started to fidget.
‘How much longer?’ he moaned to his father.
‘It takes as long as it takes, Sammy,’ said Joe giving Lizzie a conspiratorial smile.
‘I need the loo,’ declared Sam.
Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Really? Right now?’ Sam shrugged.
‘You two go. I’ll wait in line,’ said Lizzie, already feeling out of her depth. Joe smiled gratefully and led Sam away. It took Lizzie another twenty minutes to buy the tickets. By the time she met them just inside the entrance, the sun was beating down and she felt sticky and hot.
‘Phew! I could do with an ice cream. How about I treat us all to one?’ she said trying to break the ice.
‘But we haven’t seen anything yet,’ said Sam.
‘Oh. No. Well maybe we could have one in a bit,’ said Lizzie. She noticed that Sam was addressing all his comments to his father and realised that this wasn’t going to be easy.
‘Well I’d love one,’ said Joe. ‘Thank you, Lizzie,’ he added, giving Sam a meaningful look.
‘Oh all right then,’ said Sam rolling his eyes and when his father raised his eyebrows at him, ‘Thank you.’
Lizzie returned with their ice creams and Joe opened the map. ‘So what do we want to see first?’
Sam shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘Well I vote for the penguins. Come on, follow me!’ Joe led them along the path past the birds of prey and some rather frightening-looking vultures. ‘Don’t like the look of those!’ he declared cheerfully. Sam ambled along in silence, licking his ice-cream. They reached the penguins just as a zookeeper was about to feed them. ‘Oh brilliant,’ said Joe, ‘perfect timing. Look Sam.’ They watched as the penguins lined up in comical anticipation, shuffling for best position to win a fishy treat. Lizzie looked at Sam’s face which was lost in wonder, listening to the keeper deliver her speech. As the first fish was thrown and one of the penguins darted forwards to catch it, she saw the ghost of a smile cross his face.
Joe moved to stand next to Lizzie. ‘He’s a good kid,’ he said.
‘I’m sure,’ she said.
‘It’s been really hard for him.’
‘Of course.’
‘It’s hard for all of us, but Sam’s just a child. He talks like a teenager, he’s got attitude like a teenager, but he’s still a child who’s lost his mother.’ Lizzie nodded. She hadn’t expected Joe to be this open and was starting to realise how little she really knew him. She had only met him a handful of times and if she was honest, had always dismissed him as Bea’s other half and no match for her perfect sister. ‘I’m glad you called, Lizzie. I think it will help, and Sam never stays grumpy for long. I was surprised to hear from you though.’
Lizzie was ready for this. ‘I decided it was time I got to know you properly.’ She didn’t want to mention the letters. She was still working them out in her own head.
‘Well I’m glad you did. You must miss her terribly.’
Lizzie looked at him. He was a washed-out version of the Joe she remembered from years ago. He had always been tall and thin but he looked as if he’d lost more weight than he needed to. He also seemed stooped as if grief was pushing him into the ground and his face was bristly with accidental stubble; the kind that sprouted due to lack of care.
She felt an unexpected wave of fondness. ‘I do. Probably just as much as you.’
He nodded. Lizzie could see how he was struggling to keep everything together. She surprised herself by reaching out a hand to touch him on the arm. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’
He smiled at her gratefully and it was as if those two words were the permission he needed to confide. ‘I still say good morning to her,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve got her photograph beside the bed and every morning I say, Morning you, still not here then.’ He gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I’ve never told anyone that.’ Lizzie smiled. ‘You know how she used to look at people with those cat-like eyes?’ Lizzie nodded. ‘It was like you were the only person in the room. She had such presence didn’t she? And energy. And enthusiasm for life. Sometimes I feel as if Sam and I are rattling around the house like the last two balls on a snooker table. She gave us direction, you know?’ Lizzie nodded again. She knew this only too well. ‘I mean I’ve always looked after Sam, played the house-husband and all that, but she always came back. I keep expecting her to come back. Like in the mornings when I wake up, I forget she’s gone. I half expect to hear the shower hissing like in the days when she went out to work. I can almost imagine her bursting back through the bedroom door, bustling round the room, getting ready. Sam would usually have got into bed next to me and nestled into Bea’s space. Bea would often stalk towards him, fingers ready for tickling and growl, Who’s been sleeping in my bed?’ He grinned at the memory and it seemed to Lizzie as if he were lost, almost forgetting where he was. She noticed him bite his lip in an attempt to suppress the emotion. ‘Hark at me going on. Sorry, Lizzie. It’s just good to talk to someone who knew her,’ he said.
‘Don’t give it a second thought. It is good to have someone to talk to,’ said Lizzie. As soon as the words were out of her mouth Lizzie realised the truth behind them. Bea had been the only person Lizzie had ever confided in. She was the only one who really understood and yet here was Joe, opening up to her as if they’d been friends all their lives. She admired the way he could reveal the details of his grief to her and she understood what he was saying. She felt it too. She wouldn’t necessarily reciprocate but sh
e found it comforting to be talking about her sister and gave him an encouraging smile.
Sam appeared between them now, his face a picture of delight. ‘Did you see them, Dad? They were so cool, like funny little men. They’re called Humboldt penguins and they can swim at 20 miles an hour!’
Joe grinned at Lizzie and wrapped an arm round his son. ‘I did, Sammy. They’re hilarious!’
‘Come on,’ said Sam. ‘Let’s go and see the monkeys!’
By lunchtime, Lizzie was still in two minds as to whether meeting Sam and Joe had been the right thing to do. It had been easier with Joe than she expected and she liked him more than she thought she would. Sam was a tougher nut to crack. She’d had little experience of kids but she’d presumed them to be straightforward beings with simple needs. She’d presumed wrong. It wasn’t that she’d expected him to collapse into her arms with a cry of, ‘I love you, Auntie Lizzie.’ She had played no real part in Sam’s life and was a relative stranger. Why would he be impressed or friendly towards her just because she was related to his mother? Still, she thought she’d seen a spark of something at the funeral but it was yet to ignite today. Once, Joe had suggested that he and Lizzie pose for a photograph in the butterfly house but Sam had shaken his head angrily and wandered off. Joe had given Lizzie a sheepish look of apology, which she had dismissed with a wave of her hand. She did enjoy watching Joe and Sam together though. They had a straightforward relationship, which she didn’t recognise from her own childhood. Parents seemed to form friendship-like relationships with their kids these days. She remembered her relationship with her parents as always being stilted and off-centre, like a badly hung picture. It was as if they had never quite understood each other.
They went to the cafe for lunch, Joe waving away Lizzie’s protestations by insisting on paying. Sam had opted for pizza whilst Lizzie asked for a sandwich and a coffee. Joe had told them to find a table while he went in search of food. Lizzie saw Sam hesitate as his father walked away so decided to lead the way towards a recently vacated table by the window. Lizzie cleared away the empty cartons and drinks containers whilst Sam plonked himself down, staring out towards the flamingos and pelicans. He didn’t speak or look at her when she sat next to him. She looked over to where Joe was queuing, hoping that he might be on his way over but she could see him waving from the end of a very long queue. She wracked her brains for an easy topic but Sam beat her to it.
‘Did you ever come to see me when I was little?’ he asked.
It was a fair question. ‘Once,’ she admitted.
‘When? I don’t remember.’
‘Your mum brought you over to see me when you were a baby.’
Sam nodded. ‘Why only once?’
Lizzie bit her lip. ‘Erm, it’s a bit complicated.’
Sam rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what people say when they don’t want to tell you the truth.’
‘Is that right?’ she replied, amused once again by her nephew’s frankness.
‘Yep.’
‘Well have you ever considered that people sometimes don’t tell the truth in order to protect themselves?’ She surprised herself with this comment but there was something about Sam that gave her permission to speak plainly.
Sam thought about this. ‘Is that what you’ve done?’
Lizzie looked at his earnest face. It was like looking at a little boy version of Bea and she had to glance out of the window in order to compose herself. ‘Yes. I think it is.’
‘Is that why you don’t come over to see Granny and you didn’t see Grandpa before he died?’
Lizzie knew there was no wriggling out of this. ‘Partly because of that and partly because I was angry. Do you understand?’
‘Not really,’ admitted Sam.
Lizzie was relieved when Joe appeared with their food. ‘Here we are then. They only had pizza with olives, Sammy, so you’ll have to flick them at me or Auntie Lizzie,’ he grinned.
Sam and Lizzie ate in silence with Joe adding comments from time to time. Lizzie noticed he did this, probably to keep things moving and stop them dwelling on recent events. It must have been exhausting for him. After lunch, Sam wanted to look in the gift shop. Joe and Lizzie stood back whilst Sam browsed the shelves.
‘Did he give you the third degree while I was in the queue?’ asked Joe.
Lizzie nodded. ‘You could say that. He wanted to know why we hadn’t met before.’
Joe grimaced. ‘Sorry, Lizzie.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s fine. It’s inevitable I guess.’
‘He’s got a lot of questions and he’s been quite angry with Bea lately.’
Sam appeared looking victorious, carrying a gorilla that was nearly as big as him. Lizzie almost gasped because he looked so like Bea before she was ill; so bright and full of energy. ‘Can I have this, Dad? Pleeease?’
Joe shook his head. ‘Honestly Sammy, not another cuddly toy?’
‘Can I buy it for you?’ asked Lizzie. Joe looked unsure. ‘I’d really like to.’
‘Well if you’re sure. Sam, what do you say?’
Sam looked at Lizzie. ‘You don’t have to buy me something to make me like you.’
‘Sam!’ warned Joe.
‘No Joe, it’s fine,’ said Lizzie. She drew nearer to Sam. ‘I know we’ve only just met and I’ve missed out on a lot of you growing up. I’m sorry for that. There are lots of things that happened to me in the past but none of them are your fault. One day you might understand what happened but for now, I would really like to get to know you a little better. The truth is I’m missing your mum so much and I know you are too.’ Lizzie was amazed how easy it was to admit this to Sam. It was almost like talking to Bea. Joe gave her an encouraging smile so she continued. ‘I just think we could be friends if we tried but I’d like to buy you something, not in order to buy your friendship, but just because I’d like to buy you something. I guess it could be a way of me saying sorry for not being around before. You can call it Lizzie if you like and punch it on the nose if you feel mad at me. Would that be okay?’
The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched with a smile. He paused before holding out the gorilla. ‘Okay. Thank you,’ he said. She nodded.
Once outside Sam, Lizzie and Joe walked side by side in companionable silence.
‘Oh damn, I left my jacket in the cafe,’ said Joe after a few steps.
‘It’s okay. You go back. I’ll walk with Sam, if that’s okay, Sam?’
Sam gave a shrug. ‘Sure. Let’s take Lizzie to see the other gorillas,’ he grinned, holding up the toy.
Lizzie laughed. She could tell that Sam shared the same sense of humour as his mother; teasing and cheeky. ‘Right, that’s it, you’re for it!’ she cried, making a move towards him. He chuckled and neatly side-stepped her advances, darting off towards the gorillas.
‘I’ll catch you up then,’ called Joe. Lizzie waved him away and hurried after Sam. He was an athletic ten-year-old and disappeared quickly into the crowd. She panicked as she lost sight of him. It was busy and she had to apologise and edge her way through the crowds, imagining what Bea would say if she could see her now. ‘One day, that was all I asked for and you go and lose my boy!’ Luckily, the crowd dispersed and she spotted him as she reached the enclosure, hot and out of breath. She could see him standing very still in front of the glass barrier, holding up the toy as if showing it to the animal on the other side. When Lizzie was close by she could see the gorilla through the glass and it took her breath away because it was as if he and Sam were mirroring one another. This majestic giant was looking at Sam with such sad tenderness and Sam was staring back with a similar gaze of melancholy and longing. He reached out his hand to touch the glass and the animal looked at it for a second before turning away. Sam remained rooted to the spot and as Lizzie reached his side, she realised that he was crying; huge silent tears rolling down his face. Like a reflex in her brain, Lizzie reached out and pulled him close, feeling comfort in his small, warm body.
‘I hate her,
’ whispered Sam. Lizzie didn’t say anything but just pulled him tighter to her, blinking back her own tears.
By the time Joe caught up with them, they had both calmed down and were sitting on a bench watching the gorillas.
‘Magnificent, aren’t they?’ said Joe.
‘Can we go home now please, Dad?’ asked Sam.
Joe looked at them both. ‘I think that’s a good idea. It’s been an exciting but tiring day.’ They made their way towards the exit. Lizzie felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned to see a smiling woman of about the same age as her. ‘Excuse me, your son left this behind,’ she said holding up the gorilla toy.
‘Oh he’s not my –’ began Lizzie but the woman had gone before she had a chance to get her words out. She followed Sam and Joe to the exit and held up the gorilla. ‘You dropped Lizzie,’ she said smiling.
‘I think we should call him Guy,’ said Sam with a shy smile.
Lizzie felt something tug at her heart. It was like a door opening. ‘Guy it is,’ she said handing him over.
‘Come on then, Dad,’ said Sam, tugging at his father’s sleeve.
‘I think I’m off now, Lizzie,’ laughed Joe yielding to his son. He leant over to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Thanks for suggesting today. It was really good to see you. I think it’s done us both the world of good,’ he said, glancing over at Sam. ‘Maybe we can do it again some time?’
She nodded and waved them goodbye before making her way back towards the Tube. Once on the train, Lizzie slumped into a seat, feeling exhausted. Joe’s question rang in her ears. Bea’s letter had asked her to spend one day with them. She had done that but of course, Bea knew Lizzie better than she knew herself. It hadn’t been easy with Sam but there was something about his earnest questioning, his fierce search for the truth, that Lizzie loved. There was so much of Bea about him that Lizzie was almost hungry for more. Plus she liked Joe and she enjoyed talking to him about Bea. She was starting to realise that they were the only connection she still had to her sister and now that she’d found that, she couldn’t let it go.