The Accidental Love Letter

by Olivia Beirne

  I shake my mouse in an attempt to refresh my emails as Faye swans past my desk. I try to keep my anxiety at bay. It has been simmering under my skin since I woke up, like a kettle on the brink of boiling. I must have fallen asleep eventually last night, but it didn’t feel like I did. My eyes were wide open through the night, anxiety pinning my lids back with bolts and wrenching me out of sleep with thoughts that sliced through my mind.

  What have you done?

  What were you playing at?

  None of it was real, you made the whole thing up. They don’t even know who you really are.

  Faye shoots me a look as she walks past and I feel a flutter of confusion as her usual smirk is replaced with an odd half-smile.

  ‘Bea?’

  I force my tired eyes to focus on Angela, walking towards my desk and looking like she does every day. The murky yellow bags are still hung under her eyes like hammocks and her thin lips have a lighter shade of pink slicked across them.

  Maybe she got a new lipstick for Christmas.

  ‘How are you?’ she asks briskly. ‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’

  I nod, a dagger of panic shooting through me.

  Angela nods back.

  ‘Good,’ she says, ‘right, I’m about to send you a press release. I’ve already typed it up, so it’s ready to go, I just need you to check for spelling mistakes, okay?’

  I try to pull my features into a smile as my body twitches.

  Angela smiles and turns on her heel, heading back towards her desk. I look at my inbox numbly, waiting for her email to appear.

  I shouldn’t be at work. I should have stayed at home. I can barely speak without breaking. But I couldn’t face being stuck at home with Emma and Priya all day. I didn’t even want to look at them.

  Angela’s email pops on to my screen and I click it open. As my aching eyes try to focus on the words, my brain finally wakes up.

  LOCAL MAN LOSES HIS APPEAL

  Nathan Piletto, latterly of Lion Road, Twickenham, has lost his appeal against both conviction and sentence.

  Piletto, 30, was convicted last June for fraud and sentenced to three years’ imprisonment. Dismissing the appeal, Mr Justice Latham said that the jury had not been misdirected by the trial judge and that the sentence imposed was proportionate to the seriousness of the crime.

  As I scan the last sentence, hot waves of fear engulf me as I look down at Nathan’s pixelated face. My eyes flit across the room as my heartbeat thumps in my ears.

  Who else has Angela sent this to? Who else knows about Nathan? I look at Faye, who is chatting to Jemima and laughing.

  What are they laughing about? Has Faye worked it out? Does she know I know Nathan? What if she asks me about him? What would I say?

  Heat rolls up my body and I try to swallow the sour nausea that climbs up my throat.

  Is that why he wrote to B? Because he knew his sentence might change?

  My eyes fly back to the top of the press release and I read through it again.

  Did Nathan try to tell me about this? I’ve been so swept up in organising Christmas at Sunfields and writing the story that I’d almost forgotten about his letters. I spent three days at Sunfields over Christmas, so maybe Joy has had a letter waiting for me for days.

  I should have known about this before. I should have—

  ‘Bea?’

  I jump as Angela reappears. She’s holding an empty coffee cup and looking down at me.

  ‘Have you read it?’ she asks. ‘Is it good to go?’

  I look up at her, my mouth dry.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say weakly, ‘it’s fine.’

  *

  I race down the road, my skin pinched as the wind whips my collar away from my face.

  I need to get to Joy, I need to see if she has any letters for me from Nathan. And then I need to go and see Nina. Priya and Emma don’t need to know anything.

  I turn into my street and look at the houses. Joy’s house is still in darkness. My heart twinges.

  Is she still away? Where has she gone?

  I need her to be at home. I need to talk to her.

  My feet slow to a halt and I feel my body sag in defeat, until I notice her small car, parked on her drive. I frown.

  That’s weird. Joy doesn’t go anywhere without her car. She never gets public transport.

  I look back at the house, sat in a pool of darkness. Like it has been for days.

  My heart rate picks up as I walk towards her house.

  When was the last time I saw Joy?

  I lift up my hand and knock firmly on the front door. The sound echoes through the cold air as if it’s the only sound the house has made in days.

  Joy always answers.

  I squint through the window, trying to see something in the darkness.

  Something’s not right.

  ‘Joy?’ I call, rapping my knuckles harder. ‘Joy? It’s Bea, are you in there?’

  My skin pricks in fear as a cold wave ripples through my body. I drop my hand and press my face against the window.

  ‘Joy?’ I shout again. ‘Joy?’

  Before I can register my thoughts, I race round the back. The blinds are pulled halfway down over her kitchen window and I pummel my fists on the back door.

  ‘Joy,’ I shout again, cupping my hands to the kitchen window and trying to peer underneath the blinds. ‘Joy?’

  I screw up my eyes, desperate to see through the thick blanket of darkness that covers Joy’s house. As a car swings out of a neighbour’s garage, a light is cast over Joy’s kitchen and I spot her, sitting in her chair in the hallway. Her eyes are open.

  My heart leaps into my mouth in relief.

  She’s okay.

  ‘Joy!’ I shout, louder this time. ‘Joy, it’s me! Let me in!’

  I see her head move as the lights of the car vanish.

  She’s ignoring me. My frozen hands drop from the window.

  ‘I’m not leaving until you let me in,’ I say, my voice harsh.

  Slowly, Joy moves her eyes towards me, but she doesn’t speak. I raise my eyebrows at her challengingly.

  ‘Let me in,’ I say firmly.

  Joy looks back at me, her mouth a straight line across her pale face. I can just make out her features in the dark shadows, as though she’s a ghost.

  Eventually, a small sound escapes from her mouth, but it’s swallowed by the darkness.

  ‘What?’ I shout. ‘I can’t hear you! Just let me in!’

  This time, her voice sounds louder and pierces the silence in the house like a knife.

  ‘I can’t.’

  *

  I lean back in my chair, turning the hot polystyrene cup between my hands and trying to stop it from scorching my frozen skin. Joy sits in the chair next to me, her hands placed in her lap and her lips pursed. She’s barely spoken to me since I broke into her house. I smashed her kitchen window before I even had the chance to question what I was doing. Her key was in the lock, thank God. I don’t know how I would have managed to get in otherwise.

  I glance over at Joy and feel a spasm of worry as my eyes linger on the purple bruise on the top of her head.

  Joy always smiles. She can’t look at me without smiling, no matter what I say to her. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her look anything but happy. She looks broken.

  I take a sip of my coffee. The harsh, burnt-tasting liquid swirls around my mouth, making me wince.

  I had to carry Joy to the taxi. She could barely stand.

  ‘Okay . . .’

  I look up as a woman in purple overalls walks towards us.

  ‘Joy Turner?’

  Joy looks up and I instinctively touch her hand.

  ‘So you’re all fine. We’ve checked you out thoroughly after your fall, and you’re all okay. I’ve got here that you weren’t taking your medication?’

  Joy’s face doesn’t move.

  I look at her nervously. Come on, Joy. Please smile. I just want her to smile again. She doesn’t look lik
e her usual self.

  ‘I forgot,’ Joy says in a small voice, ‘and then I couldn’t.’

  Joy’s stiff hand twitches slightly under mine. Her hands have puffed up, like a fresh pair of armbands, and her knees are swollen, stretching the fabric of her trousers, like two fat melons.

  I feel my grip tighten. I’m not letting go.

  ‘Right,’ the nurse says, ‘well, you must remember to take your medication to avoid these flare-ups, okay? But I’ve also given you some new bottles,’ she holds out a paper bag and I take it from her, ‘which are much easier to open. I think you’ll need some help over the next few days while the tablets kick in. Do you have anyone who can help?’

  The nurse moves her eyes to me and I feel my body jerk.

  ‘Yes,’ I say quickly, ‘me. I’ll help her.’

  The nurse looks back down at her clipboard. ‘Are you her daughter?’ she asks.

  I feel my face prick.

  ‘No,’ I say, ‘I’m her neighbour.’

  The nurse writes something down on her notepad and then smiles at us both.

  ‘Right,’ she says, ‘well, then, we’re happy for you to go, Mrs Turner.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, finally prising my hand from Joy’s as I put the plastic cup under my chair.

  The nurse nods and turns towards another patient.

  I look back at Joy. Her eyes are fixed forward and her hands are placed neatly in her lap. Only her chest is moving, which is slowly rising and falling with her shallow breath. I feel guilt tug at my chest. I’ve never seen Joy like this.

  ‘Has this happened before?’ I say.

  My body squirms in the silence. She never ignores me.

  ‘With the arthritis,’ I add.

  Very slowly, Joy shakes her head, her eyes still fixed forward.

  ‘You can go now,’ she says, her voice soft. ‘You don’t have to stay with me.’

  A shock of heat hits me.

  ‘I want to!’ I say earnestly. ‘I want to make sure you’re okay!’

  ‘Why?’

  I blink.

  Why? How can she ask me that?

  ‘Because . . .’ I say, ‘because I care about you.’

  We sit there in silence and I twist my hands together until the question that’s been playing on my mind finally announces itself.

  ‘How long had you been sat there for?’ I say, my eyes glued to my hands.

  My question hangs in the air, and I feel my cheeks burn.

  I shouldn’t ask her that. I know I shouldn’t. But I need to know.

  Joy sighs.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘Jenny was going to call on Christmas Day, she said she wanted to have a video call, but I couldn’t get my laptop working. I got so distracted that I forgot to take my pills. When I tried to go to bed I tripped, and everything went a bit . . .’

  She trails off and I stare at her.

  ‘Fuzzy,’ she says. ‘The next thing I knew, I was sat there in darkness until you appeared.’

  She moves her eyes to meet mine and I feel a pang in my heart.

  Christmas was three days ago.

  Why didn’t I go and see her sooner?

  We fall back into silence and I take a sip of my coffee.

  ‘Why were you at the house?’

  I swallow another mouthful of coffee as guilt shoots through me.

  I was at the house to see if there were any letters for me. I wanted to see if Joy had my post.

  I wasn’t there to see Joy.

  I never am.

  How long would Joy have been sitting there in the dark, if I hadn’t found her?

  How did I never notice that Joy was alone? I always knew she was alone, but I never really saw it.

  I lean back in my seat, and place my hand back on Joy’s.

  I never thought anyone else could feel lonely.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I click open Joy’s door and slip her key into my back pocket. The front door opens to reveal Joy’s immaculate house, the white glow of the street light streaming through the window and showing everything perfectly in its place as though nothing has happened.

  I hold the door open to Joy and step inside. I can’t remember the last time I was inside Joy’s house.

  ‘Hello? Bea?’

  Emma appears from the kitchen, her hair pinned back in a large clip and her sleeves rolled up.

  ‘You just missed the handyman,’ she says. ‘He’s fixed your window, Joy.’

  Joy smiles as I lead her to an armchair. ‘Thank you, dear.’

  ‘And I’ve brought you round some Christmas cake,’ Emma says, walking back into the kitchen. ‘We had loads left over at home, and what’s a cup of tea without some cake, eh?’

  Joy sits down and I drop her bag on the floor.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Do you want a cup of tea? I think Emma is making one.’

  Joy reaches forward and takes a magazine from the coffee table.

  ‘Yes please, love,’ she says. ‘I’ll go to bed soon.’

  I nod and join Emma in the kitchen.

  ‘Where’s Priya?’ I ask. ‘Is she not here?’

  ‘She was,’ Emma says, reaching down three mugs from the cupboard. ‘She left about five minutes ago. She had another Josh drama last night.’ Emma reads my face. ‘I know,’ she says. ‘I’m not sure where she went.’

  I sigh and lean against the worktop. As my eyes scan the kitchen, I notice a small stack of post by the sink. Emma follows my gaze and I feel myself jump.

  ‘Hey,’ Emma says, ‘I’ve got some exciting news.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Emma grins. ‘I think I’m going to move in with Margot, rather than us finding a place just for the two of us. Her housemate is never there anyway.’

  I look up at Emma, my heart pounding. I’d almost forgotten about that.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ I say, ‘that’s great.’

  ‘We’re quite keen to do it as soon as we can,’ she continues, ‘and as you’re the landlord, well, do you mind when I move out?’

  I shrug. Mum left the house to me, but I never think of myself as a landlord.

  ‘Whenever,’ I say.

  Emma nods and I try my best to give her a smile.

  ‘Oh,’ Emma says, turning back to the tea, ‘I’m sorry about your story. It’s a shame it didn’t work out.’

  I look back at Emma.

  What?

  ‘I read it this morning,’ Emma continues, dropping the tea bags into the bin. ‘I didn’t realise they’d made the decision already and the home was due to close so soon. I guess you’ll want to go back and say goodbye to them, before it happens.’

  I stare at Emma, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.

  What is she talking about?

  Emma catches my expression. ‘Have you not seen the paper?’

  Emma sticks her hand in her back pocket and pulls out her phone. I watch her, my mouth dry, until she turns the screen to face me.

  THREE RESIDENTS HOMELESS AS SUNFIELDS RESIDENTIAL HOME CLOSES

  After much discussion, Sunfields Residential Home is closing on 2nd January, leaving the three remaining residents forced to find new homes. The decision was taken by the council, who claim that the residential home is no longer sustainable for the number of residents. A spokesperson said they have helped all the residents find suitable alternative accommodation.

  But where does this leave the three remaining, vulnerable residents with nowhere to turn? Sunfields Residential Home, which was originally home to twenty-two residents, now has only three left as they struggle to find a new home before the January deadline.

  A statement from the council claims that the ‘health and well-being’ of the residents has been ‘paramount’ throughout this process and they will do whatever they can to assist the final three residents with their move into their new homes.

  But with only a few days left, do they have any homes to go to?

  My mind trips over the words, hot tears clawing at the bac
k of my eyes as I read the byline printed at the bottom.

  Reporter Faye Musk.

  She’s stolen my story.

  ‘Oh, Bea,’ Emma whispers, putting her hand on my arm, ‘are you okay? I thought you knew it was closing.’

  ‘It’s not true,’ I manage, blinking the tears away, ‘what she’s written isn’t true. They won’t be homeless.’ My eyes flick up to Emma’s face. ‘They’ll see this. I don’t want them to read this about themselves. I have to go and see them. I need to check they’re okay.’

  Emma takes her phone from me and for a horrible moment, I think she’s going to tell me not to go.

  ‘It’s almost eight,’ she says, looking back down at her phone. ‘Is that too late?’

  I shake my head, brushing the tears off my cheeks. ‘No,’ I say, ‘they’ll be up for another hour or so. I can’t let them read this without me explaining. They know I’m writing a story, and I don’t want them to think that I had anything to do with this.’

  Emma looks at me, her eyes scanning my face. Suddenly, she reaches forward and pulls me into a hug. ‘Okay,’ she says, ‘I’ll stay here with Joy.’

  She lets me go and I look at her. Emma never hugs me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, zipping my coat back up, ‘I’ll be home later.’

  Emma nods, picking up two mugs of tea. ‘I’ll explain to Joy.’

  I smile over my shoulder at Emma as I charge out of the house. My heart races in my chest as I slam the front door, and the words swirl around my mind.

  But where does this leave the three remaining, vulnerable residents with nowhere to turn?

  Three residents homeless.

  But with only a few days left, do they have any homes to go to?

  I scrunch my eyes up as I taste bile at the back of my throat.

  How could she write that about them? Making them the subject of some cheap news story. She doesn’t even know them. They’re human beings.

  I need to see them. I need to make sure—

  ‘Bea? Where are you going?’

  I look over my shoulder at Priya, who is walking towards me. She has a long coat wrapped around her body and her eyes are wide. I keep walking, I don’t have time to stop.

  ‘Out,’ I say, as I charge past her.

  Priya turns to shout after me, ‘Where?’

  I keep walking, the wind whipping past me.

  I don’t have time for this.