The A-Z of Everything

by Debbie Johnson

  Do I forgive Poppy, knowing everything I know now? Looking back on the whole affair with hindsight, understanding how she felt? After losing our mother, and getting each other through the A–Z, and taking the first tentative and terrifying steps back into each other’s lives?

  ‘I do forgive you, Poppy,’ I say simply. ‘Forgetting won’t be as easy, for either of us – but I do forgive you. I love you. I’ve missed you. And now … well, I can’t imagine life without you. If you can forgive me for the way I reacted, I can forgive you for what happened. D for Deal?’

  She reaches out a hand, as though to shake on it, and instead pulls me in for a hug. I wrap my arms around her, and feel her snuffling away in my hair. I suspect she’s crying, and I pat her back to console her.

  ‘Okay – let’s do this,’ she says, when she eventually pulls away. There is a real fizz about her tonight – a sense of boundless energy. She’s practically bouncing on her bare feet as she takes the petrol can, and pours a splosh on to the barbecue.

  I stand back – the splosh looked a bit on the generous side – and wait until she lights it. With a small wooshing sound, the flames leap up, dancing gold and red in the dark night sky. There is a crackling noise, and the smell of burning plastic as Tiny Tears disintegrates even further.

  She looks at me, little flickering flames reflected in her wide brown eyes, and I nod.

  At exactly the same moment, we both throw our Guilt Lists into the fire, where they crinkle and crumple and turn quickly into a small pile of ash.

  Chapter 71

  Andrea: Z is for Zapplebums

  ‘Hello Rosehip, hello Popcorn! I hope you are both splendid today – although perhaps, like myself, you’re feeling a little blue. We have reached Z, and we are at the end of our last adventure together.

  ‘This will be my last recording for you, and I’ve decided on the good old-fashioned tape recorder again. I have one more video to make, so I’m saving all of my screen presence for that – it will be an important event, and I don’t want to fluff my lines. Because while it is the end of the A–Z for me, it will be the beginning for you – and I’m planning on giving the performance of my life.

  ‘I have no idea where you are, right now, or what you are doing, or how you’re feeling. This whole project has been created in a vacuum – for all I know, as I record this, you could have given up by now. Or not even started.

  ‘All those envelopes could have remained unopened, and you might never have even seen that photo of me with Elvis … I like to think you did. I have to think so. I have to cling to my belief that you’re still here, still trucking as they say, still listening.

  ‘I have to believe that this has all made a difference. That your future will be healthier because of it. That all my wishes and all my prayers have been answered, and that you two are together again. The not-knowing is killing me – or is that the cancer, ha ha! Sorry, gallows humour … anyway. I have to accept that I will never know what effect all of this has had on you – it’s like the ultimate cliff-hanger. At least for me.

  ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed yourselves, or at the very least not murdered each other. For me, it’s been quite the mission – an A–Z of all my dreams. I realise that some of it may have been odd, or upsetting, or downright bewildering at times, but it wasn’t just about healing your relationship, girls. It was about me, saying goodbye.

  ‘We all know that we won’t live forever. We all know that the time will come when we leave our loved ones, and look back on our lives knowing that the end is nigh. That there will be no more chances, no more choices, no more anything.

  ‘But knowing it in theory and facing up to it in reality – knowing that life is finite, and every minute you have left is being measured out like grains of sand in a giant egg timer – is very different. At the start of this, I had no idea how much time I had left, and whether I’d even get to the end of it. If fate hadn’t been kind, I could have left you hanging at H, I suppose!

  ‘Lewis thinks, and he is usually right, that I am simply too stubborn to let go until all of this is complete. Until I feel as if I’ve done the best I can – and perhaps that is the case. I’m certainly relieved, in a way, to get to Z – even if it is the end. I don’t have too much left in the tank, truth be told.

  ‘It’s all very strange, isn’t it? It is to me, at least. Lewis, at my insistence, has gone home for the night, and I am lying here, in my hospital bed, recording my voice for my daughters to listen to after I’m dead. It really doesn’t get much stranger than that – knowing that everything I leave behind, all of these messages and videos and letters, will be all that’s left of me.

  ‘It’s more than most people get, but I know that for you, it will never be enough – no matter how many questions I have answered, how many thoughts I have provoked, none of this will ever be enough. It’s simply not the same as having me around, is it? Believe me girls, if I could pull off that particular miracle, I would.

  ‘I’ve done the next best thing with all of this, and I’ve done it with so much love. It’s been tricky at times, and I’m finding, as I lie here, alone, that this is one of the trickiest of all. Because it’s my final chance – my final attempt to leave you stronger than I found you. I can hear the nurses chattering outside, and I can imagine Lewis getting home and pouring himself a big glass of port, and I can imagine you two, going about your normal lives with no idea of what is about to happen to you. The shock of the phone call I know you’ll be getting before very long now.

  ‘I can imagine all of that, but I can’t quite imagine how all of this will finish – for any of us. I’ve started a story that I will never be able to quite end. Will you two become sisters again? Does Heaven exist, and if so will I be heading that way? And how will Lewis cope without me?

  ‘I’ve suggested a lot of answers throughout this A–Z, but these last few have got the better of me. I suppose I will simply never know – unless the answer to the Heaven question is “yes”, of course!

  ‘I’m wittering on, I know – but I find that I am so reluctant to press that big “stop” button. It feels ominous somehow, glaring at me in the half-light – like if I press stop on the recording, I’ll be pressing stop on my life. Pressing stop on my contact with you two. Letting go – and I really, really don’t want to let go. I want to hold you both so close to me, snuggle you up in my arms and kiss your faces and keep you safe.

  ‘I know you’re grown women, but in my mind, you’re still my babies. My darling little girls. You’re my whole life – and I so want to protect you from what is to come.

  ‘I can’t do that, sadly. Nor can I come up with a truly satisfying Z to end all of this with. It’s really very annoying that after all this effort, the last letter of the damned alphabet is such an awkward one. Lewis left me a very handy dictionary for inspiration, and I did come up with some great finds – for example, did you know that “zwitterion” is a real word? No? Me neither! It sounds wonderfully exotic, but is actually something to do with ions and chemistry. Frightfully dull.

  ‘And did you know that in India and Iran, the part of a house set aside for women is called the zenana? Or that a ziggurat is a type of tower? That a fence of thorns is known in Sudan as a zareba? I’m not quite sure how useful any of this is to me now, but I suppose it’s never too late to learn.

  ‘Anyway, I suppose all I really need to tell you is that I love you both in a zillion different ways. I love you so much, in fact, that it surpasses all known language, and, I think, needs a brand-new word. I have decided that word will be “zapplebums”. The definition of “zapplebums”, in case you were wondering, would look like this in the dictionary: zapplebums: adjective – word used to describe the ultimate in love, adoration and pride.

  ‘That, my darlings, is the way I feel about you two. Feel free to alert the nice people at the Oxford English Dictionary.

  ‘And now, I fear, I must finally press “stop”. I can only hope that it isn’t too literal. I shall end with some
thing I also plan to start with, if the God of Tape Recorders allows me one more day. I shall end by asking you both to always remember this one simple thing: I love you, and I know that you love me.

  ‘So for now, darlings – my gorgeous, grubby angels – goodbye. My love for you is zapplebums.’

  PART THREE

  The Final Curtain

  Chapter 72

  Joe: The Reviews Are In

  It’s a nice place, this. Up on the hills, really pretty countryside all around us. We’ve come down for Mum’s birthday, and Aunt Poppy made us a cake.

  The cake was pretty disgusting – I suppose she’s still learning – but we all pretended it was lovely. Especially Lewis – he talked about that cake like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.

  Now we’re out here, with him and Mum and Poppy and Betty. It’s the middle of October, and the sun is still shining, but it’s a bit chilly. The apple trees in the cottage garden are drooping with fruit, and there was a frost on all the gnomes’ heads this morning when I woke up and looked out of the window of Poppy’s old room.

  That’s my room now, when I come and visit, and she’s said it’s fine if I want to leave stuff there, or get rid of her things. I quite like it though – there’s a lot of books, and the other day I found a packet of Rizlas hidden inside a copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary. I can’t take the mickey out of her for it, though, because then I’d have to admit I was reading Bridget Jones’s Diary in the first place. And, knowing Poppy, she’d post that on my Facebook page, and that would be social death.

  Poppy and Mum have gone on ahead, and are dancing around the stone circles singing some kind of chant. I can’t hear what it’s about, but it seems to involve a lot of arm waving and jumping.

  Mum started her teacher training this term, and she seems to be enjoying it. The house is full of files and colour-coded charts and highlighter pens, so I guess she means business. She also seems to mean business about her new health regime, which is great. She’s even been coming to the gym with me and Simon.

  I’m starting to think maybe she’s doing other stuff with Simon as well, but that’s none of my business. He’s certainly round at the house a lot more, and they’ve had a few nights out at the cinema and the pub quiz. She goes a bit giddy when he’s in the room, which is weird. But, I suppose, nice. Simon never looks giddy – he probably had it trained out of him when he was in the Marines – but he definitely looks happy when he sees her. Hey, maybe I’ll have a new stepdad one day, who knows?

  I’m not so sure about a new granddad though – she’s been emailing him in Blackpool, and they’ve talked about meeting up, but it hasn’t happened yet. It’s a good job I’m already used to strange-shaped families.

  Poppy is still at the cottage, where she tells me she is writing a ‘bonkbuster’. I didn’t ask too many questions about that – I’m a bit scared she’ll answer them. The boxes – the ones covered in pretty flowers – are there too; Mum said it was their spiritual home. I’m not so sure boxes have spirits, but these are pretty special boxes.

  Lewis is lagging behind us, further down the hill, mainly because of Betty, I think, who moves about as fast as a snail. It’s nice that he’s here, though. I think he’s been a bit lonely without Granny, and I get the impression that Poppy has kind of adopted him. They’re really rude to each other, but in that way that says they like each other?

  I catch them up, close enough to hear that they’re going on about goddesses and Mars Bars. Nutters.

  I still miss Gran myself, but I think she’d be made up to see this. In that card she left me – the one with the fox on the front – she told me how much she loved us all, as well as giving me some advice. She said I should learn to recognise true gold when I saw it, and to treasure the things that matter in life.

  It was all a bit heavy for me – I’m still trying to get my head round Physics A-level – but I won’t forget it. I still have that card, and I always will.

  I miss her. I wish she was dancing round those stones with Mum and Poppy. It feels weird that she’s not here – that all this stuff has happened without her being here to see it.

  Though who knows, really, I think, looking at the way those two are hugging that giant stone – the Witch Stone. Maybe she is?

  Acknowledgements

  This book has been quite an A-Z for me as well as Rose and Poppy – mainly H for Hard Work, and T for Tearing My Hair Out. But there’s also been a lot of S for Support along the way, and as ever I have people to thank.

  Kim Young, Charlotte Ledger and the team at HarperCollins have been with me all the way, so big hugs to them. Also to my agent Rowan Lawton – welcome to the crazy train!

  There are also several individuals who have helped me in various ways – often involving beer, always involving laughter – who I’d like to give a shout out to: Sandra Shennan, Pamela Hoey, Jane Murdoch, Jane Costello, Milly Johnson, Jane Linfoot, the Barbacoa Quiz Gang, and Vikki Everett.

  On a very personal note, my family have, as always, been brilliant. My lovely kids Keir, Dan and Louisa keep my head out of the clouds, and where it belongs – washing their PE kits, looking for lost keys, and remembering that it’s swimming on Tuesdays. Big thanks also to my handsome, clever musical genius of husband (did I get that right Dom?), for listening to me ramble on about fictional problems, letting me watch Supernatural, and tolerating a lot of take-aways. Love you all to infinity and beyond.

  My extended family, the Crazy O’Malleys, as ever, need a thank you – especially my mother-in-law, Terry, whose showbiz stories most definitely helped me create Andrea Barnard.

  One of the main themes of this book is grief, and how we deal with it. Sadly, I’ve lost too many good people from my life in recent years, as have several of my friends. Perhaps we are simply at the age where we say more goodbyes than we used to. So my final message is to all of the loved ones we have lost: we still love you; we still miss you, and we still think about you every single day.

  Meet

  Debbie Johnson

  1. What was your inspiration for The A–Z of Everything?

  The initial idea actually came from the title – I was lying in bed at night thinking, as you do, and the A-Z of Everything came to me … then I created the story around it, based on lots of my own experiences, seasoned with imagination! I lost my own mum a few years ago, and my father as well, and I was raised as an only child (I have a very weird-shaped family which I won’t bore you with!) so sometimes, I feel like I have nobody to turn to to ask a question. I’ll try to remember someone’s name from childhood, or wonder about something my mum mentioned to me in passing when I was only half listening, and realise that I have no way of answering those questions. It’s quite a lonely thing – and I would dearly love to have an A-Z of my own from my mum. I think anybody who has lost someone close to them will understand that urge, that desperate yearning for one more conversation – and as this is fiction, Rose and Poppy got to have it!

  2. What are the key themes in the book and why did you decide to write about them?

  I’d say there are three big ones – love, grief, and redemption. The obvious one is grief, but that sounds so morbid, and I hope that the book is, ultimately, uplifting. The flip side of grief is the fact that in order to miss someone so very much, you were very lucky to have had them in your life at all. The amount we grieve is proportionate to the amount we loved, and love is to be celebrated. Life is to be celebrated and the A-Z is as much about that as death. It’s not just about two women missing their mum – it’s about two women rediscovering their mum, and each other, and themselves. The other big theme really is redemption. Nobody gets through life without doing a few things they shouldn’t; sometimes things that we are deeply ashamed of and which scar us and those around us. The way that Poppy and Rose rebuild their relationship is about redemption – second chances, forgiveness. Realising that the important things in life are not guilt and anger and sticking to your guns – but being willing to love each o
ther, warts and all.

  3. This book is a departure from your previous romantic comedies. Your warm sense of humour is still apparent throughout, but did you enjoy writing something different and more emotional?

  Very much, yes. My Comfort Food Cafe books had taken a step in that direction, they had humour and romance but also dealt with some very real and painful issues. This was a step further – and although I know it might not be quite what people have come to expect of me, I hope they enjoy it too. I think it’s the first book I’ve ever written without a sex scene in it, now I come to think of it …

  4. Andrea refuses to let her girls know that she is dying in order to bring them together after her death. Do you understand Andrea’s motivation for secrecy?

  Completely. On a personal level, I was with both my parents at their death beds – just me and them. That was unbelievably hard, and in all honesty I still feel a bit traumatised by it. I know others will feel differently, and see it as a privilege, but for me it was extremely awful, both times. I have to say I’m with Andrea – I’m not sure I’d want my children to go through that, thinking they had to sit there for my sake, as though they’d let me down if they left? I think I’d rather encourage them – and myself – to live our lives in a way that leaves us all in no doubt about how much we love each other, how much we care, and how much we’ll be missed. Andrea didn’t want all the emphasis to be on her death – she wanted it to be on her life, and on her daughters’ lives, and I think that is a noble and brave thing. I understand why Poppy and Rose felt a little cheated and angry about it, but I think Andrea’s motivations were pure.