Dear Lizzie

by Annie Lyons

  Lizzie laughed and sat down at one of the tables outside the cafe whilst Ben fetched their drinks. She watched Bambi running back and forth; a happy lone dog in a great big park. Ben placed the drink in front of her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And sorry again for the outburst. You must think I’m crazy.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘No, I just think there’s a lot more going on in that head of yours than you let on, Lizzie Harris.’ It was such an accurate observation that Lizzie was caught momentarily off-guard. Ben noticed her hesitation. ‘Lizzie, am I your friend?’

  It was a simple question with a simple answer. ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘And are we due to go on a date next week?’

  Lizzie gave a shy smile. ‘Ye-es.’

  ‘And above all else, do you trust me?’

  She looked into his eyes; those gorgeous eyes. ‘I do trust you,’ she said.

  ‘So. Talk to me. I want you to talk to me.’

  There was something about the way he said this that made Lizzie’s stomach dip with longing. She took a deep breath and told him everything. She found that it was easy to talk about it with someone who had no connection to her past. It was like unravelling a ball of knotted-up wool. Ben was a good listener. He didn’t make any comments but only asked for extra details when he needed them. When she told him about the pregnancy and the lost baby and the tears sprang easily to her eyes, he fetched a napkin and passed it to her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

  ‘And so I’ve been trying to work it out in my head. Why would Bea do that? Why didn’t she give Alex the note? Things would have been so different if she had,’ she said.

  Ben sat back in his chair and looked at her. ‘They would have been different but would they have necessarily been better?’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’

  ‘I mean you were running away anyway. Would you have come back if Alex had known?’

  Lizzie shrugged. ‘Maybe. It might have given me the courage to stay in the village and maybe the baby would have lived.’

  Ben looked at her sadly. ‘I’m not so sure that would have prevented you losing the baby.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked.

  ‘Because Fran had a miscarriage when we were married,’ he said quietly. ‘I know everyone’s different but in most cases you can’t prevent these things happening.’

  Lizzie saw genuine pain in his face and reached out to touch his hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Ben,’ she said. He gave her a small smile.

  ‘She’s been in touch actually,’ said Ben after a pause.

  Lizzie stared at him. ‘Fran?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘I haven’t called her back yet.’

  Yet. A tiny word but oh so significant. ‘And are you going to?’ asked Lizzie as casually as she could.

  Ben gave her a sad look. ‘I don’t know. What do you think?’

  Lizzie stared at her feet. ‘I think we’ve both got stuff from the past that we need to sort,’ she said quietly. They sat in silence, a sinking realisation descending upon them.

  Ben nodded. ‘We’re not going to go on that date, are we?’

  Lizzie shook her head and stood up. ‘We should go,’ she said sadly.

  Ben thumped the table in frustration. ‘Curses to our crappy bad timing!’ he shouted at the ceiling.

  She wanted to mock him for using the word ‘Curses’, but she couldn’t find her sense of humour at that moment and besides, he was right. Their timing was rubbish. They walked back to the shop in silence. Lizzie couldn’t believe how her excitement about the future had been snuffed out so quickly. However, she also knew that you couldn’t fall in love with another person if they harboured even the merest hint of feelings for an ex. She couldn’t be sure but there was something in Ben’s face that changed when he mentioned Fran. He had been hurt by her but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her any more. Lizzie couldn’t run the risk of getting caught up in the middle of that.

  As they reached the coffee shop, Ben held out Bambi’s lead. He reached forwards and planted a small kiss on her cheek. It felt like a promise of what might have been and it made her sad. She gave him a brave smile. ‘It’s all right, Benjamin Livingston,’ she said. ‘We’re still friends and that will never change.’

  He nodded ruefully before disappearing into the shop. She sighed and turned back towards the bookshop. As she entered, she noticed Mrs Nussbaum practically hopping from foot to foot at the sight of her. She was gesturing towards a tall figure who was browsing the Fiction section. He turned and Lizzie felt panic rise up within her as the past collided with the present once more.

  ‘Hello, Lizzie,’ said Alex. ‘I’m so glad to see you.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Valentine’s Day

  Lizzie stared at the envelope marked with the words ‘Open on February 14th’. She had to give Bea her due. She was very precise in her instructions. Since last month’s revelations, Lizzie had thought long and hard as to whether she wanted to continue with Bea’s wishes. She was torn. She had felt hurt by what her sister had done but part of her understood that it was done out of love. People do all sorts of things out of love for another human being, not all them entirely wise or helpful. Still, she could justify that her sister acted out of love because Lizzie understood what it was to share that love. She knew that she would have done anything to protect Bea. It was sisterly love; irrational, heartfelt sisterly love.

  She wondered what Bea would make of the events of the last few weeks. Lizzie was still trying to make sense of it all herself. When she had been confronted with Alex standing before her, searching for his own answers, she had felt lost. She didn’t know what to say to him or how she was supposed to feel. Mrs Nussbaum had sensed that this was important and, making an excuse about doing the books, bustled away to the back room. Alex and Lizzie had stood looking at one another for a while. It seemed like an age before Alex spoke.

  ‘I had to see you,’ he said. Lizzie didn’t answer so he walked over and took hold of her shoulders, staring into her eyes as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She longed to pull away but something kept her there. ‘I’m sorry that you had to face it without me,’ he said. ‘Even though I was an immature adolescent, I like to think that I would have been there for you.’ He let go of her shoulders and took a step back. ‘Do you think we could meet up properly some time? Just to talk.’

  She looked at him with a sigh, ‘I don’t know, Alex. It’s been a long time.’

  He held up his hands. ‘Just as friends. I just want to be friends, Lizzie.’

  It almost made her laugh. She’d gone from Lizzie No-mates to having more friends than she knew what to do with. The look on his face was different to the Alex of old. She recognised the need behind his imploring look, because it was the same need she had experienced so often of late. It was the need for answers. ‘All right,’ she’d agreed.

  They met the following Sunday in London. She had been very clear about that. It was one thing going to Smallchurch to see Sam or even her mother, but when it came to Alex it still felt raw, as if she was bumping into her teenage self and reliving her pain.

  She had been terrified as she turned the corner onto Trafalgar Square and approached the National Gallery. He was waiting for her on the steps, waving and smiling. He greeted her with a peck on the cheek that felt rather chaste and awkward given their history. She wondered if this would set the tone for the day but she was underestimating Alex of course. He suggested a walk around the gallery and she agreed gratefully. She knew they had things to discuss but she was glad to have time to get used to his company again. She noticed that he still had the charm of old, but none of his youthful arrogance. He was polite and courteous; the perfect gentleman really. They had walked around the gallery and Lizzie found herself slowly relaxing in his company. He knew a lot about the paintings and pointed out details and delivered anecdotes like the best kind of tour guide; knowledgeable but not
a know-it-all. After a while he suggested that they visit the restaurant above the National Portrait Gallery.

  ‘The views over London are spectacular,’ he told her.

  He was right. They ordered breakfast and Lizzie sat back to admire the breath-taking view. She realised that Alex was watching her carefully now and she knew that it was time to talk. She took a deep breath. ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘Will you tell me what happened with the baby?’

  He looked so lost as he said it that Lizzie felt her heart dip with sadness. ‘It was about a month after I left home and I was staying with Bea when I started to have these pains.’

  ‘So how far– ?’

  ‘About four months.’ Alex nodded. Lizzie continued. ‘I had no idea what was going on so I took some paracetamol and waited for Bea to get home.’ Alex was watching her carefully now. The practised charm was gone, replaced with fearful concern. ‘I don’t know why but it didn’t occur to me to get help. I just thought Bea would know what to do.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘By the time she got home I’d been bleeding and she called an ambulance. I went to hospital and they told me that I’d miscarried.’

  Alex reached out a hand. ‘You must have been frightened.’

  ‘I was but Bea was there. I always felt safe when Bea was around.’ Alex nodded. ‘I didn’t really understand what was happening to me,’ explained Lizzie. ‘I mean I knew I was pregnant and that I’d lost the baby but I was just a kid. I didn’t want to be a mother. In a way, it solved the problem. It was only as an adult that I realised what I’d lost and what had really happened to me. I often wonder now what would have happened if that baby had lived.’

  ‘We would have been parents,’ said Alex with a small smile.

  ‘To a teenager,’ said Lizzie with one eyebrow raised.

  ‘And we all know what they’re like,’ he grinned.

  ’It would have been a different life,’ she said, glancing at him. He reached out and squeezed her hand and instead of drawing away, Lizzie left her hand there. ‘It must have been a shock to find out that Bea had kept it from you,’ she ventured after a while. ‘It certainly was to me.’

  Alex nodded. ‘I suppose she must have had her reasons.’

  ‘Nothing like a protective sister eh?’ said Lizzie with a rueful smile.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Alex, his face serious. ‘So where did you go?’ he asked, looking at her intently. ‘Where were you all those years?’

  She looked at him. He seemed so different to the cocky teenager she’d known and lusted after. He was softer somehow, more real and genuine. So she told him. She told him about the waitressing jobs she’d had, about the boyfriend who’d turned out to be a drug dealer and who had tried to pimp her at one stage, about the bare, empty squats she stayed in and about the way she’d drifted through life with no real sense of purpose or belonging. But she also told him about the way that through all of this, Bea had been there. She had kept in touch, made sure Lizzie was all right and tried to help her if she wasn’t. Alex had listened, studying her face, taking in everything she told him.

  ‘And what about now?’

  Lizzie considered this. She was still working it out in her own head. ‘I’m coming to terms with everything. I’m like a half-finished book,’ she observed. Alex nodded. ‘And does your story have a happy ending?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she smiled. She hadn’t expected the day to turn out like this; hadn’t expected to enjoy Alex’s company quite as much. He was so attentive and compassionate. The whole day had been a very pleasant surprise.

  ‘It’s been wonderful seeing you today, Lizzie. Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I would love to do it again perhaps – ’

  His voice had trailed off, uncertain as to how she might react. She surprised herself when she answered, ‘I’d like that too.’ Alex had beamed and planted another kiss on her cheek, less of a peck this time, more a heartfelt token.

  They had fallen into an easy routine of meeting on the next two Sundays and Lizzie found herself looking forward to it. Her usual Sunday ritual had been to stay in bed until noon and often laze the afternoon away in front of a film on the television. She had tried going for a walk but it wasn’t the same when you had to negotiate the couples and families.

  She found Alex to be good company, full of wit and of course charm. She could see what had attracted her to him as a teenager but it was a grown-up, more rounded and mature version now. She told herself to enjoy it. Life was short and precious. She had spent too long getting bogged down by the past. It was time to live in the present.

  She plucked Bea’s letter from the side and sliced open the envelope. Her usual excitement was laced with a heavy feeling, something that she wanted to shake off. It was the sense you get when you know something about a person but you dearly wish you didn’t. You told yourself that it was okay but you knew deep down that it probably wasn’t.

  She exhaled sharply to dismiss the feeling as she started to read.

  Dear Lizzie,

  Happy Valentine’s, my lovely sis. I hope you enjoyed celebrating my birthday last month and that it brought back some happy memories.

  And the rest, thought Lizzie.

  So today, if you will indulge me, I want to play Cupid. Now you may remember when I tried to do that on a couple of other occasions. So I realise that Spotty Simon was a no-go. The combination of acne and hay-fever is not an attractive one. I admit that now. And I also acknowledge that the blind date we went on with the Hewitt brothers was a bit of a disaster. I hope they enjoyed the rest of Forrest Gump on their own. Climbing out of the cinema toilets was not the most fun we ever had but it was certainly amusing.

  So unsurprisingly, today’s wish is all about love and I wish for you to find someone who deserves your love. I think a person can survive without a lot of things in their life but I truly believe that you can’t survive without love. My dearest wish is for you to find someone who loves you as much as I know Joe loved me or as much as Dad loved Mum and of course, as much as Granny loved Grandpa. If you’ve got to this stage with my wishes, I think you will be ready to open yourself up to this one.

  I know it’s a big ask, probably the biggest there is and I may be underestimating you. You may have already found someone and be living a blissful life with Spotty Simon. Or better still, Ryan Gosling may have been making his new film in your particular corner of south-east London and popped in to browse your bestsellers (that is a euphemism by the way). Whatever the case, I don’t doubt that you will find someone who loves you and sees how wonderful you are. In the past, you might have turned to me for relationship advice. I just hope you are starting to see that you can do all these things without me. You are Lizzie and you are wonderful.

  You deserve your shot at happiness and I think that love will take you a step closer to that. Of course, try to avoid men with beards, halitosis or anyone who tells you that Jaffa Cakes are biscuits. Follow these rules and be happy, lovely Lizzie. It’s all I wish for you.

  Love you,

  Bea x

  Lizzie laughed to herself. She found it impossible to be angry with Bea. How could she ever doubt that she had anything other than good intentions for her sister? Her words and the sentiments behind them exuded nothing but care and love. Above all else, Lizzie did want to find someone to love like her sister, mother and grandmother had. She wanted it more than anything.

  ***

  Later that morning, Lizzie was sorting out the customer orders when she heard the bell above the door ring. She glanced round to see the postman placing a pile of letters on the counter with a cheery, ‘Morning, Lizzie!’

  ‘Morning, Dave. Thanks a lot,’ she smiled before going back to her tasks. The post could wait. Moments later, the door tinkled open and Susie came dancing into the shop.

  ‘Love is in the air,’ she sang. ‘Like a parrot in a tree.’ She giggled and shimmied her way over to the till. She stopped at the counter and stared at
the pile of post. ‘Hello, hello, what do we have here then?’ she said with a grin, pointing at the card on the top of the pile.

  ‘Good morning, crazy lady, and what do you mean?’ asked Lizzie peering over to where she was pointing.

  ‘Some-one has a Val-en-tine’s!’ she sang, holding up the envelope with ‘Miss Lizzie Harris’ written on the front.

  Lizzie blushed and took the card from her friend. Susie gave her a coy look. ‘Who’s the lucky guy then?’ Lizzie wasn’t sure if she wanted to open it in front of Susie but she was pleading now. ‘Oh go on, please. I could do with some light relief from Ben and Fran or ‘Frankenben’ as I’ve taken to calling them.’ Susie raised her arms and started loping round the shop like Frankenstein’s monster.

  ‘You are mean. You’ve got to let him try again if it’s what he wants,’ said Lizzie reasonably.

  ‘Oh okay and then I get to pick up the pieces when it all goes pear-shaped. Yep, looking forward to that one. Just shoot me now. Anyway, I want to know who your mystery man is.’

  Lizzie rolled her eyes but sliced open the envelope and looked inside the card. There was a long message which she decided to read after Susie had gone but her suspicions about the sender were correct. She refolded the card and placed it back in the envelope before turning to face Susie, who had a look of such squinting desperation that Lizzie couldn’t keep her in suspense any longer. ‘His name is Alex and he’s a church organist.’

  Susie giggled. ‘As in my, what a lovely big organ you have?’

  Lizzie laughed. ‘Stop it, you naughty woman. Anyway, I used to go out with him when I was a teenager and we’ve sort of rekindled things.’

  ‘I love it!’ declared Susie. ‘Do I need to buy a hat?’