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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.
Chapter Five (#ulink_c530d2bb-bdf6-57b9-870b-77a5689f267c)
September
Lizzie cradled her tea mug in both hands and looked out of the window, blinking in the warm sunlight. The leaves were starting to turn now; red and orange mingled with fading green. The wind was whipping wisps of cloud across the surface of the sky, shaking the trees in the churchyard opposite the shop with some force. Lizzie noticed a few conkers drop to the ground like tiny, spiky bombs. It made her think of being a child when she and Bea would rush from tree to tree, collecting as many as they could carry, stuffing their pockets so that they could barely walk. Some people hated autumn as the trees lost their leaves and the inevitability of winter crept in, but Lizzie had loved autumn as a child. Living in the countryside, they were much more in touch with the changing seasons. She could remember days outside, scrumping for the last remaining apples, watching as the pumpkins her father planted snaked around the garden like something from Cinderella and most of all just being with her sister. As a small child, everything had been about Bea; playing with her, running after her as she ran through piles of leaves, following her instructions whilst they built dens and hide-outs. She had loved every second.
Her thoughts turned to Sam as they often seemed to when she thought of Bea these days. She had phoned once since their trip to the zoo and spoken to Joe. Lizzie could tell from his tone that he was pleased to hear from her but they hadn’t discussed meeting again. In truth, once Lizzie had returned to the relative security of the bookshop, she had let herself off the hook a little. She wanted to maintain contact with Sam and Joe but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face Sam’s bald questioning again. It churned up too many things that she’d rather keep buried. However, Lizzie was starting to realise that the past couldn’t be ignored forever. Truths were going to be faced. Bea had made sure of that.
The second letter was sitting on her kitchen counter like a dare. She couldn’t believe how quickly a month had passed since she had read the first letter.
She felt a shiver of excitement as she moved towards the counter and picked up the envelope. These final words from her sister were precious morsels to be savoured, even if she was nervous of their contents. She glanced up at the clock. She still had time before work. She held up the envelope and breathed in. There was a definite scent of Bea; it was faint but it was still there. Lizzie smiled as she carefully sliced it open and took out the letter.
Dear Lizzie,
So now I know that if you’re reading this you will have spent a day with Joe and Sam. Thank you for doing that. It means the world to me that you have made that connection. I know you didn’t know Joe properly so I hope you can see what a good man he is. As for Sam, I can only imagine that he had a lot of questions for you. I hope he didn’t give you too hard a time and that you were able to see past all that to the lovely boy inside. I just wish I could have been there to see it.
So you might breathe a sigh of relief when I tell you that my next wish is not about the family. It’s about you – all about you, lovely Lizzie.
Do you remember how important your friends were, when you were a teenager? I do. I remember you all hanging out at Fernando’s drinking milkshakes and eating cheesecake because you wanted to be like American teenagers. I remember the first time we saw Grease together and I watched your face as you absorbed every detail, loving every second. The week after, you and your friends had decided to become the Pink Ladies and you told me that you wanted to be like Rizzo because she was the coolest. You were such a close group, although you sometimes got a little out of hand (following that dare to tell the woman on the bus that her baby looked like a monkey was not perhaps your best move – I never thought Mum was going to let you out of the house after that). So you were naughty but you weren’t mean and you’ve got to admit they were happy times.
After the fall-out with Mum and Alex, I guess you felt let down. I know your friends’ mothers wouldn’t allow them to stay in touch with you and I know you felt so wounded by that and what went on afterwards that you found it hard to trust anyone apart from me.
Well here’s the thing, my lovely sister. I think it’s time you made a new friend. I mean obviously, no one could ever replace me because I’m bloody brilliant but seriously, Lizzie Lou, I think you need to find someone to talk to, someone outside the family, preferably who knows nothing about us.
So that’s my next wish. Make a new friend, Lizzie. Find someone who will be kind and who you can trust and tell them everything that’s in your heart. It will help. I promise.
Love you,
Bea x
Lizzie smiled and put the letter down on the counter, smoothing her hand over the paper as if by touching Bea’s words, she could somehow bring back the essence of her sister. She was touched by this wish. It felt so personal, as if her sister was looking after her by making it. And it was true. She had lived without a proper friend, excepting Bea, for so many years. It had been deliberate really; a way of protecting herself from what she saw as inevitable disappointment. If you didn’t let people get too close, they couldn’t let you down and so you would never get hurt. It had suited her because she had always had Bea. Now, of course, that was no longer the case.
The thought of making a new friend, of having someone to talk to, sort of excited her but it frightened her too. What if it went wrong? What if they let her down or rejected her? Bea wasn’t there to help her pick up the pieces so what would she do then?
On the other hand, she could see the value of having someone to talk to, someone with whom to share your thoughts and feelings. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to share everything though. There were events from her past that she wanted to leave in the past but she had enjoyed talking to Joe and maybe it was time to open up a little, even if she just talked about Bea. There was comfort in sharing tales of her sister and joy too. Maybe it was time to allow herself that.
She noticed that her heart was beating a little faster as she made her way downstairs to open the shop and she recognised a tiny knot of excitement in the pit of her stomach. There was anticipation too but it was as if this latest wish made sense. It felt right somehow even if it scared the hell out of her.
Of course the question was, who to choose. When Lizzie heard the back door open and a flurry of paws as Mrs Nussbaum arrived with Bambi, she realised that the old lady was probably the closest thing to a friend that she had. However, they had never really opened up to one another. It was partly a generational issue. Mrs Nussbaum belonged to an age when feelings were not readily shared. Lizzie knew that she missed her husband but she never really talked about it on a day to day basis. Life at the bookshop was a reassuring mix of crosswords, orders and helping people to choose books. Lizzie wondered if she could be anything other than an acquaintance; a good one but an acquaintance nonetheless. She smiled at them both as they appeared at the back of the shop.
‘Guten Morgen, Lizzie,’ beamed Mrs Nussbaum.
‘Ro ro,’ echoed Bambi in greeting.
‘Morning, both,’ smiled Lizzie. ‘And how are we today?’
‘Ja, still very old but still above ground,’ said Mrs Nussbaum with a wry smile. ‘Shall I put on the kettle?’
‘Lovely,’ said Lizzie.
The morning passed like so many mornings. They drank tea, Mrs Nussbaum read out the crossword clues and they completed it in record time. ‘We might have to move on to something more tricky,’ she observed.
All the while, Lizzie was working round the shop, restocking, phoning through orders and helping customers. When there was a lull, she would glance over at Mrs Nussbaum and wonder about trying to talk to her. She didn’t want to launch straight into discussing Bea. She couldn’t really. It would be an odd conversation starter. ‘By the way, my sister died about six weeks ago. Sorry, forgot to mention it. Oh and she was my whole life and now I really need someone to talk to. How about it?’ Lizzie imagined that Mrs Nussbaum would either question her mental health or sack her or both. She tried a couple of conversation starters, just to gauge her reaction.
‘So how are you feeling today, Mrs N?’
Mrs Nussbaum peered at her over her half-moon spectacles which she wore on a gold chain around her neck. ‘Ja. My hip is playing up a little but I think it’s this verdammtes English weather.’
Lizzie had nodded, wondering if she could bring the conversation round to matters of the heart. ‘I’ve never really asked you how long it’s been since you lost your Leonard.’
Mrs Nussbaum looked a little surprised by the change of conversation from joint ache to death but answered nonetheless. ‘Ach, it will be five years next February.’
‘Gosh,’ said Lizzie. She realised how out of practice she was at this. ‘That must be hard.’
Mrs Nussbaum shrugged. ‘It is what it is. I cannot be weinen and weeping all the time. And he was a pain in the Arsch sometimes. Now have you seen Mrs Fothergill’s poetry order?’
Lizzie sighed inwardly. She was very fond of Mrs Nussbaum but she could see that she wasn’t the ideal candidate for her BFF and she probably wasn’t exactly what Bea had in mind. In fact, she could almost hear Bea telling her now, ‘I didn’t mean a slightly deaf eighty-year-old lady even if you do share a love of Aldous Huxley and cheesecake. I meant someone you can drink Cosmopolitans with and laugh until you wee yourselves.’ And it was then that it hit Lizzie squarely between the eyes like a Cupid’s arrow for friends. Susie. She was just the kind of friend Bea would pick for Lizzie. She was friendly and funny; she might talk too much but that could be a good thing as Lizzie got used to opening up to someone other than Bea. She had asked Lizzie out for a drink on more than one occasion and she seemed like fun. Fun. That felt like an alien word to Lizzie these days but she sensed that Bea wanted her to embrace it. ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. ‘All I Wanna Do Is Have Some Fun.’ The more Lizzie thought about it, the more the bubble of excitement from the morning started to grow. She should do this. It would be fine because it came from Bea and Lizzie knew that she would never make her do anything that would hurt her.
Lizzie was resolved. She was going to march into the coffee shop and casually suggest that she and Susie go for a drink some time. And that was when the other thought hit her. Ben. She didn’t like him. There was something sour and draining about his demeanour that Lizzie didn’t need at the moment. She needed positive, upbeat people. Lizzie needed someone like Susie but she didn’t want to have to deal with her disagreeable brother as well.
When mid-afternoon arrived, Mrs Nussbaum’s thoughts turned to cake and Lizzie was despatched to fetch some tea-time treats. This was her golden opportunity. Still, she felt sick with nerves as she pushed the door of the coffee shop but flooded with relief when she spotted Susie alone behind the counter.
‘Hi, Lizzie!’ she cried as if greeting her oldest and dearest friend.
Lizzie was about to open her mouth when Ben appeared from the kitchen. His face was set, as ever, in an irritated frown. He ignored Lizzie and spoke to his sister. ‘I’m going to the bank and then I need to pop to the shops.’
Susie folded her arms and glared at him. ‘Well I hope you’re going to buy some manners because you haven’t shown any to Lizzie,’ she said, glancing at her.
Ben rolled his eyes and muttered. ‘What are you, my mother?’
Susie wasn’t about to let this go. ‘We’ve talked about this. You’ve got to stop taking your crap out on the rest of the world! Sorry Lizzie,’ she said, holding up a hand to her friend, who was now wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her. This wasn’t how she had hoped the scene would play out.
‘It’s none of my business. Really,’ she said in a small voice.
‘No, I’m sorry but I’m not having this,’ said Susie fiercely. ‘Ben, you need to apologise to Lizzie.’
Ben sighed and shook his head in disbelief. ‘No wonder I cut the head off your Barbie,’ he muttered.
Susie smacked him on the arm. Ben glared at her before composing himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, glancing at Lizzie.
She gave a small smile. ‘It’s fine. Really.’
He nodded before turning to his sister. ‘Can I go now?’ This was uttered more like a child asking its mother a question than with any attitude.
‘Go on, be off with you,’ smiled Susie, giving him a playful shove. After he’d left, she turned to Lizzie. ‘He is sorry. He’s not usually such a horror and I am a bossy cow but I think it’s what he needs at the moment. Anyway, what can I get you?’
