by Annie Lyons
‘Good idea, my boy,’ said Ernest, easing himself into an upright chair. ‘Stella keeps this place like a refrigerator!’
Lawrence had made a ham-fisted attempt at a fire by the time Stella came into the room with a tray containing a bottle of champagne, five glasses and lemonade for Sam.
‘What are you doing, Lawrence?’ she scolded, shooing him out of the way. Lawrence pulled a face behind her back and Ernest giggled like a schoolboy.
‘Tell you what? You build the fire and I’ll open the bubbly,’ said Lawrence. ‘I’m good at that.’
Stella rearranged the log, kindling and balled-up pieces of paper and soon there was a blazing fire in the hearth. The atmosphere became more relaxed as the firelight flickered and Lawrence popped the cork on the bottle. Sam and Joe reappeared in the doorway. Lizzie could see that Sam had been crying and caught Joe’s eye. He nodded reassurance. Stella saw Sam’s eyes and reached out an arm, handing him the glass of lemonade.
‘Thanks, Granny,’ he said, leaning in to her. She kissed the top of his head.
Lawrence handed out glasses of champagne and Ernest raised his in a toast. ‘Merry Christmas everyone,’ he said.
‘Merry Christmas,’ they echoed.
‘To absent loved ones as well,’ he said sadly. Everyone nodded in quiet reflection. Lizzie sensed how strange this must be for everyone and suddenly felt like a poor substitute. It was as if her mother picked up on this because she fixed her eyes on her daughter with the words, ‘And to the loved ones who have returned home too.’
‘Aw sis, I had no idea you cared!’ cried Lawrence, winking at Lizzie. Stella rolled her eyes and everyone laughed.
‘Thank you, Mum,’ smiled Lizzie.
Stella replied by putting an arm around her daughter. ‘Let’s have our starters shall we?’ she said to them all before leading Lizzie into the dining room.
The table looked magnificent, decorated with pine cones, fir, ribbons and candles. Her mother had made place settings with a small gift for each person wrapped in gold paper.
‘What’s this?’ asked Ernest frowning at the package on his placemat.
‘Just a little something, Dad,’ said Stella.
‘I can’t open it,’ he said, struggling with the sellotape.
‘I’ll do it for you, Dad,’ said Lawrence.
‘Thank you, my boy. There’s too much sellotape for my old fingers.’
Sam had already opened his parcel. ‘Lego! Cool! Thanks, Gran,’ he cheered.
Stella smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Sammy.’
‘Here you go, Dad,’ said Lawrence, passing his father the after-shave he had unwrapped for him.
Ernest peered at the bottle. ‘What is it? I haven’t got my specs,’ he said, screwing up his face as if he were in pain.
‘It’s after-shave,’ said Lawrence.
Ernest’s face remained a tight ball of confusion. ‘After shave? What do I want with after-shave?’ he grumbled.
‘Shall we eat?’ said Stella with some force.
Lizzie and Joe exchanged glances as everyone picked up their knives and forks. They managed the starter with only one comment from Ernest that there wasn’t enough smoked salmon. The atmosphere lightened a little with the arrival of the turkey. Crackers were pulled, hats were donned and Sam made them laugh by reading out the cracker jokes. Lizzie loved watching him as he delivered the punchline, lapping up their amusement. Lawrence poured the wine and cleared his throat.
‘I would like to propose a toast to Stella for delivering us this feast and for being the hostess with the mostess. To Stella!’
They echoed his toast and Stella smiled with genuine pleasure. Lizzie looked at them all eating, chatting and laughing and had an overriding sense that for once in her life she was in the right place at the right time.
‘These parsnips are a bit tough,’ declared Ernest before long.
‘Leave them on the side of your plate if you can’t manage them,’ said Stella as if addressing a five-year-old.
‘And the gravy’s not like your mother’s,’ he added.
‘Sorry,’ said Stella in a way that suggested she was anything but.
‘And I can’t stomach sprouts,’ he continued. ‘They give me wind.’
Sam giggled. ‘I’ll have them. I like farting,’ he declared.
‘Sammy, not at the dinner table,’ warned Joe but he was smiling.
‘Oh no, I’ll save my farting for after dinner,’ said Sam. Everyone laughed.
After pudding and The Queen, during which Ernest insisted on standing for the National Anthem, they decided to play a game of charades. Sam went first. Lawrence was impressed by his representation of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
‘You could be an actor like your great-uncle,’ he declared. Sam beamed.
‘Or an estate agent,’ said Stella, the lunchtime wine making her candid.
Lawrence ignored the comment. He rose to his feet acting out three words and a film. For the first word he pointed to himself.
‘Lawrence of Arabia,’ said Stella sounding bored.
‘Your turn then,’ retorted Lawrence with mild irritation.
‘Oh I don’t know if I can,’ said Stella.
‘Go on, Granny,’ encouraged Sam.
She smiled at him and rose to her feet. She pressed a finger to her mouth as she thought. Lawrence started to sing ‘Why are we waiting,’ under his breath. Stella stuck out her tongue and Sam giggled. She started to act out two words and a film. For the first word she made a ‘sounds like’ action and pointed to Sam.
‘Sam, pam, ham,’ said Sam. Stella shook her head and pointed more fervently.
‘Boy? Sounds like boy?’ suggested Lizzie. Stella nodded with excitement.
‘Toy Story,’ said Lawrence with a yawn. Stella looked furious, stalking back to her seat.
‘The grown-ups aren’t very good at playing nicely, are they?’ whispered Lizzie to Joe. He laughed. ‘Hey Sam, shall we try your new game?’ she asked. Sam nodded with enthusiasm.
‘I’ll watch you,’ said Stella. Soon she, Lawrence and Ernest were all asleep. Sam giggled at his great-uncle’s whistling snores. They played the game for a little while before Sam turned to Lizzie.
‘I want you to read Mum’s card with me,’ he said.
Lizzie looked at Joe. ‘We talked and it’s what Sam wants, if that’s okay with you?’ he said.
‘Of course,’ said Lizzie. The words from Bea’s letter echoed in her head: be at the centre of it all if you want to. She realised that she did want to. ‘Do you want to read it now? We can go upstairs out of the way if you like.’ Sam nodded and followed her.
‘Was this your room when you were a kid?’ he asked looking around Lizzie’s bedroom.
Lizzie nodded. ‘Yep, this was my little den. I used to do my homework in here. Or at least pretend I was. Usually I’d be making up stories about the family of squirrels that lived in the old oak tree,’ she laughed. ‘With illustrations of course.’
‘What was my mum like?’ asked Sam quietly.
Lizzie smiled at him. ‘She was beautiful with bags of energy, like a firework always ready to go off, probably not much different to how she was when you knew her, to be honest. She was my best friend and all I wanted when I was little was to be with her. She made up the best games and she even let me win sometimes.’ Lizzie laughed at the memory but when she looked at Sam she noticed he wasn’t smiling.
He took the card from his pocket. ‘You read it,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ He nodded and sat on the floor waiting.
Lizzie opened the envelope and took out the card. She began to read.
‘Dear Sammy,
I know you’re angry with me and I don’t blame you. I just want you to know that I always loved you and your dad more than anything in the world and I always will. I hope you can forgive me and I hope you can find a friend in Lizzie – I always did.
I wish you a Merry Christmas this year and every year.
I lov
e you, darling boy, always know that,
Mum xxx’
Lizzie felt tears spring to her eyes and looked down at Sam, expecting to see him crying too. He was staring up at her, eyes wide open, face serious.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Lizzie, wiping away her tears.
Sam nodded. ‘I can’t forgive her,’ he said quietly.
‘Oh Sam,’ said Lizzie kneeling down and reaching out to him. ‘You won’t always be angry with your mum for leaving you.’
Sam looked surprised. ‘I’m not.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’m not angry with her for leaving me.’
‘Why else would you be angry with her?’
Sam was about to speak when there was a gentle tap at the door and Joe appeared. ‘Everything all right?’
Lizzie looked at Sam. ‘Is it Sam?’
He gazed at her and then looked at the floor. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he said.
‘I think we should be heading off,’ said Joe. ‘Ready, Sammy?’
‘Ready,’ he said, standing up.
Lizzie caught his hand. ‘Your mum’s right. I am your friend and I’ll be around now whenever you need me,’ she said.
He looked her in the eye with the gaze of a boy who wanted to believe. ‘Promise?’
She placed her hand on her heart. ‘I promise,’ she said and she realised that this was the most important promise she had ever made. After Bea died, she had thought that she would never feel a bond as strong with anyone again but sitting here with Sam, she realised that this was no longer true. It was exactly as her mother had said. He was the last remaining part of Bea and a promise to Sam was a promise to her sister too. She would do all she could to keep that promise and all she could to preserve the bond between Sam and herself. It gave her strength as Bea had given her strength and a sense of hope for the future too. She and Sam needed each other; she understood this now and that would never change.
Chapter Twelve
Early January
‘Happy birthday, Bea,’ whispered Lizzie as she opened her eyes. Five months had passed but her sister was still the last thing she thought about when she went to sleep and the first thing she thought about when she woke up. Today would have been Bea’s thirty-sixth birthday.
Lizzie knew that she was making progress though. Bea didn’t fill her every waking thought as she had just after her death and for the first time in her adult life, she found herself embracing the New Year with an air of hope.
She had enjoyed Christmas with her family a lot more than she thought she would. She was making progress with her mother and even though she knew there would be more tricky conversations, she felt ready to face them. She wasn’t sure when the opportunity would arise but she trusted that Bea’s letters would guide her to that point. Her initial anger had passed and she supposed forgiveness might follow in time. She understood her mother better now. She recognised that they had a connection in the way they missed Bea and the way they loved Sam.
Her relationship with Sam gave her courage and a new sense of responsibility which she was surprised to find that she relished. She loved her role as auntie. She worried about Sam; his bouts of anger concerned her but it made her determined to be there for him whenever he needed her.
And then there was Ben. He was a significant reason for Lizzie’s positive feelings about the New Year and with their date lined up for next week, she felt a welcome sense of excitement. She hadn’t seen him since Christmas and was even enjoying the sense of anticipation about the evening. Yes, she’d definitely made progress. Bea would be proud of her.
It seemed fitting that Lizzie had Bea’s next letter lined up for today. ‘What have you got in store for me now then?’ she said smiling at Bea’s photograph. She retrieved the letter and carried it along with her mug of tea to the sofa. She crossed her legs under her and settled down to read.
Dear Lizzie,
Happy New Year, my lovely sis! I hope you made it home for Christmas with the family and they didn’t drive you too potty. I also hope Sam read my card and understood what I’m trying to tell him. He’s been through a lot and my only consolation is that you are there to look out for him. His dad is wonderful but there’s something special about being an auntie; I hope you’re starting to see that now.
So, if I know you, you will be opening this on my birthday and if that’s the case then happy birthday me! I also expect you’re sitting there in that awful dressing gown preparing to mope round the house all day. Well, I don’t want you to do that! I want you to go back to that pub where we celebrated my eighteenth birthday. Find the settle where we carved our names and raise a glass to me. Take someone with you or go alone. I don’t mind just don’t sit at home weeping over Grease again. Do you hear me?
Hark at me! Bossing you from beyond the grave but it’s my birthday and I’ll boss if I want to. So cheers, lovely sis. Don’t weep but cheer for me today.
Love you,
Bea x
Lizzie laughed at her sister’s teasing words. Typical Bea. You weren’t allowed to mope or dwell. You had to keep on going. That was the whole point of these wishes; to keep Lizzie going. She considered whether to ask someone along today. Her mother was in Norfolk that weekend visiting her grandfather; a deliberate ploy to avoid the date although Stella would never admit this. Joe had admitted that this would be a difficult anniversary and had taken Sam away to visit his parents. In a way, Lizzie was glad. It made the decision to go alone much easier. She fleetingly thought of asking Ben or Susie but realised that she still felt protective towards her relationship with her sister. She was beginning to share more of her past with people and that was a good thing but she wasn’t ready to share Bea’s wishes. They felt like something private, between the two of them and she wanted to keep them like that for now.
She dressed carefully, picking out a dress and boots combo befitting a birthday outing. The drizzle had stopped and weak winter sunshine was spilling through the grey sky as she made the drive over to Smallchurch.
As soon as Lizzie saw the sign, ‘Welcome to Smallchurch’, she felt her heart dip in her chest. It was an odd sensation, returning to the place where you had spent your formative years; the place where all your ideals and dreams had been formed. It was like staring your younger self in the face and realising where you had gone wrong.
Even though she’d been back to her mother’s house a couple of times, she hadn’t been back to the town itself. She parked in the car park behind the shops and made her way onto the high street. Smallchurch was a fine looking town and had maintained much of its historical architecture, including the clock tower in the middle of the road. The businesses had changed of course and many independent retailers had been replaced by high street chains.
She noticed with some sadness that her favourite cafe, Fernando’s, had succumbed and was now a branch of Starbuck’s. She paused to watch the steady stream of late-morning coffee drinkers and smiled as she recalled its neon sign, reminiscent of an American diner. This had been why she and her friends had liked it so much. It was the perfect setting for girls who wanted to dream about being high-school kids like the ones from Grease. Lizzie could remember booth-style tables with turquoise leather seats and even a jukebox in the corner.
She recalled going there with Alex on their first date and not being able to concentrate properly because she was so nervous and her friends were sitting two booths down giggling and making loud inappropriate comments. She remembered Alex fixing her with his clear blue eyes. He had a leather jacket like Danny Zuko’s and when they had left the cafe it had been raining, so they stood underneath the awning waiting for it to stop. Alex had reached for her hand and as she turned to face him, he had gently cupped her chin and kissed her on the lips with such tenderness, she had become Sandra Dee right there in his arms, whilst her friends whooped and cheered through the condensation-dripped windows. She had fallen in love with him at that exact moment. He had been so different from the groping, aw
kward boys she knew whose attempts at kissing had made her feel sick, their tongues like wet slugs forced into her mouth. Alex had been different, very different indeed.
Lizzie shivered as she tried to shrug away the memory. She turned her attention back to the high street and spied, with some relief the George and the Dragon pub, still nestled at one corner of the high street. She wasn’t used to going into pubs on her own and she felt nervous as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. She was relieved that no one seemed to notice her entrance and she was able to approach the bar without feeling too self-conscious. She glanced around. There was only a handful of drinkers; a man nursing a pint and his crossword, a snoozing Jack Russell at his feet, and an elderly couple in the corner, already tucking into a full roast even though it was barely noon. She noticed that the window seat banked on either side by two narrow settles was still free.
‘What can I get you?’ the landlord asked. Lizzie hadn’t heard his approach and she jumped in surprise before telling herself to calm down. She didn’t need to be so jumpy. She considered his question. What was a fitting drink for today? Given the temperature, Lizzie would have most liked a cup of tea but she knew this wasn’t what Bea had intended.
‘A glass of house red please,’ she said with a shy smile.
The landlord nodded, fetching a wine glass and pouring it for her. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ he asked as he placed the drink in front of her with a friendly smile. He was a ruddy-faced man, as broad as he was tall.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Lizzie politely. She wanted to remain anonymous today.
‘Four forty please then love,’ he said.
She paid him and carried her drink over to the vacant window seat. The sun had forced its way through the cloud now and the world seemed bright and alive. More people were starting to appear on the street as if attracted by the sunshine, like plants growing towards the light. She sat on the settle to the left of the window and placed her glass on the table. She looked around to check that no one was watching before lifting one of the fitted leather cushions and peeking underneath. She narrowed her eyes as she strained to find what she was looking for. She thought she was going to be disappointed but suddenly she spotted something faint. They were barely discernible; only really visible if you knew what you were looking for but as Lizzie saw the ‘B’ and ‘L’, which they had drunkenly carved with dinner forks, she smiled.