Dear Lizzie

by Annie Lyons

They walked through the village towards the church. The sun had disappeared and the air was damp and misty, the ground spongy beneath their feet. As they entered the churchyard, Lizzie spotted a figure coming out of the church. Her heart sank as he approached them.

  ‘Hello, Stella. Lizzie? It’s lovely to see you here,’ said Alex, smiling at them both.

  ‘We’re just going to put some flowers on Bea’s grave,’ explained Stella, walking off across the churchyard.

  ‘Of course,’ said Alex, his face clouding with sympathy. Lizzie wanted to follow her but Alex was staring at her intently. ‘How are you?’ he asked, reaching out a hand and placing it on her shoulder. She stiffened at his touch.

  ‘Not too bad, thanks,’ she said. It wasn’t a lie. It was almost the truth.

  He nodded earnestly, his eyes locked on hers. Those blue eyes – so appealing once upon a time. They lured you in and wouldn’t let you go. ‘It’s lovely to see you again Lizzie, although I have to say I’m surprised. Are you and your Mum back on speaking terms then?’

  As if you care. You were the reason we stopped speaking in the first place. These thoughts swirled around Lizzie’s head but she couldn’t form them into words. She had raked over the past too much already today. She didn’t have the energy. ‘I suppose so,’ she said.

  ‘Well that’s great. I’m so glad to hear it. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since the funeral. I was worried about you. You seemed so unhappy.’

  ‘I had just been to my sister’s funeral,’ Lizzie pointed out.

  ‘I know. Of course. I just meant that I could sense a deep sadness in your heart.’ He moved his hand from her shoulder and placed it near to her heart. It was a tender movement but it was too much for Lizzie. She took a step backwards. ‘I have to go and help Mum,’ she said.

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn. It’s just that I want you to be happy.’ He reached forwards and planted a tiny kiss on her cheek. ‘I’ve always wanted you to be happy, Lizzie.’ He whispered this final sentiment into her ear before walking away.

  She stood frozen to the spot, still feeling the warmth of his kiss on her cheek. It took her back to their teenage romance. It almost made her laugh when she thought about it now. She used to wait for him round the back of the church and she could remember how her heart skipped with joy at the sight of him. And when he had kissed her and led her by the hand to the vicarage, she had felt like the luckiest girl in the world. To have the attention of Alex Chambers was every teenage girl’s dream in their village. Their hurried adolescent sexual encounters had to be fitted in before Alex’s parents returned and were hardly the stuff of erotic romance, but for Lizzie it had been exciting and daring. It had felt like the first step to becoming a woman. At least it did until it all went wrong.

  She roused herself from the unwanted memory and picked her way across the wet grass to join her mother. Stella had discarded the dead flowers and was now pulling the bottom leaves off the bouquet. Lizzie picked up one that had already been stripped and went to slot it into the metal vase.

  ‘No, not yet! You need to snip about five centimetres off the bottom,’ snapped her mother. Lizzie sighed. ‘Sorry,’ said Stella, ‘I didn’t mean to snap.’ She approached the gravestone and wiped some dirt from one corner.

  Lizzie was struck suddenly by how awful this was for her mother; to be placing flowers on her daughter’s grave. No one should have to do that.

  Stella finished arranging the flowers and seemed satisfied. She stood up and closed her eyes, lost for a moment in a silent prayer. She picked up the remaining flowers. ‘I thought we could put these on your dad’s grave,’ she said gesturing to the left. Lizzie hadn’t spotted it until now but there was her father’s grave, next to Bea’s, as it should be. She felt a lump in her throat.

  Lizzie heard someone calling her name. She looked up to see Joe and Sam walking towards them. She waved and smiled. As they reached them, Joe gave Lizzie a tight hug. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said. She was surprised but pleased by the welcome; his embrace was warm and comforting.

  Sam ran to his granny and wrapped an arm around her. ‘Hello, Sammy. Did you have a good day at school?’ she said. ‘Auntie Lizzie and I were just putting out some flowers for your mum.’

  Lizzie was surprised to hear her mother refer to her in these terms but she was pleased too. She felt included.

  Sam glanced at Lizzie and nodded before approaching the graves. ‘Hello Mum, hello Grandpa,’ he said. ‘We’re learning about the Vikings at school.’ Lizzie smiled as Sam started a one-sided, animated conversation.

  ‘He often does that,’ whispered Joe.

  ‘I think it’s wonderful,’ declared Stella. ‘I talk to Jack all the time.’

  Lizzie smiled at the shared confidence. ‘How have you been?’ she asked Joe.

  Joe nodded with false cheer. ‘Oh you know, getting there.’ Stella squeezed his arm.

  Having recounted his day to his dead relatives, Sam rejoined them. ‘Will you stay for tea?’ he asked Lizzie. ‘Granny can come too.’

  Lizzie looked at Joe and her mother. ‘Absolutely, if you would like to,’ said Joe.

  Stella nodded. ‘That’s a great idea, Sammy.’

  ‘I’d like that too,’ said Lizzie smiling at Sam.

  It was starting to get dark as they reached the churchyard gate. Sam stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

  ‘What is it, buddy?’ asked his father.

  ‘I forgot to say bye to Mum and Grandpa,’ he declared. ‘Come on, Lizzie!’

  She shrugged at Joe and her mother and followed Sam back towards the graves.

  ‘You have to say goodbye too,’ he told Lizzie.

  Lizzie felt a bit foolish but she didn’t want to upset Sam. ‘Goodbye,’ she said.

  ‘And you have to pat them,’ said Sam, brushing his hand over his mother and then his grandfather’s graves.

  Lizzie leant forwards. ‘Goodbye, Bea. Goodbye, Dad,’ she said, patting them both. All of a sudden she was struck by what she was saying and where she was. Sam had already darted off towards the gate but Lizzie stayed for a few seconds more. ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she said, putting a hand on the headstone. ‘I should have been there for you.’ She brushed the tears from her eyes before walking back along the path to join the others.

  Chapter Eight

  Early November

  November arrived with the crisp anticipation that autumn was moving towards winter, and the inevitable thrill of Christmas. Lizzie had come back from her visit to her mother with mixed feelings. On the one hand she felt relief that another of Bea’s wishes had been fulfilled but also that she had given voice to something which had been eating away at her for years. In truth, she hadn’t realised how much her unspoken hurt had affected her. She had kept it locked away, refusing to face it so that when she was confronted with its reality, she had been shocked how deeply rooted her anger was, like knotweed twisting through her body. It had been a release of course, but with every day that passed, she was reminded not only of all the things she had said to her mother but other things she wished she’d said as well. Her anger had lessened but her hurt had not. There had been no apology from her mother, no real acknowledgement of what she had done and that fact weighed heavily on her mind.

  Lizzie had phoned Sam a couple of times since but there had been no contact with her mother. They hadn’t reached a point where casual chats were in order. Lizzie realised that she was still processing everything, still working out what to do. She had been relieved to return to the relative safety of the bookshop, to people who cared but who knew little about her past. It gave her the space she needed to think. She had thought again about talking to Susie. Wouldn’t it be helpful to unload this burden, share it and ask for advice? She had resisted so far. It still felt raw and too private somehow. Susie was her friend but she hadn’t known her that long. Of course the person who she really needed to talk to wasn’t there any more and Lizzie still felt her absence like a phy
sical pain.

  She had thrown herself back into the day to day running of the bookshop. After the initial success of the book group, she was organising a second meeting and had chosen the book herself this time. It was one of her favourites. She had put up a poster advertising the next meet that morning. Carol was peering at it now.

  ‘Ger-mi-nal,’ she read. ‘Ooh, sounds like something you’d put on haemorrhoids.’ She chuckled at her own joke. Lizzie smiled. ‘So what’s it about?’ she asked, approaching the counter, book in hand.

  ‘It’s about a mining community in Northern France in the nineteenth century.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ said Carol thumbing through the six hundred or so pages.

  ‘It’s about their struggles and their poverty and how they carry on through it all. It’s a surprising page-turner. I think you’ll enjoy it,’ said Lizzie with an encouraging smile.

  Carol slapped the book on the counter. ‘I’ll try anything once!’ she said with a wicked grin. ‘Now, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what do you make of that lovely man next door?’

  ‘You mean Terry in the post office?’ said Lizzie with feigned ignorance.

  Carol folded her arms. ‘No I do not mean Terry. He’s fifty-five if he’s a day. You know full well who I’m talking about. Gorgeous Ben!’

  Lizzie laughed. ‘Is he gorgeous?’

  Carol looked appalled. ‘He’s absolutely gorgeous. And he’s single.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So you’re single, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I’m actually happily married with three children. I just never talk about it,’ teased Lizzie. Lizzie enjoyed these episodes of shared banter with Carol and some of her other customers. It was a relatively new occurrence, thanks to the book group. Lizzie felt as if she was tapping into a part of herself which had been neglected for a while; the part with a sense of humour.

  Carol shook her head. ‘You may mock but I have it on good authority that what Ben needs is the love of a good woman.’

  Lizzie raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m guessing that the source of this authority is probably Susie?’

  Carol nodded. ‘Apparently, he’s got trust issues, you know, because of his ex-wife.’

  ‘Fancy.’

  ‘She sounds like a nasty piece of work. She took all his money and ran off with his best friend. Left him homeless and penniless. Susie had to rescue him.’

  ‘Yes, he mentioned something about that. Poor chap. That’s tough.’

  ‘So what he really needs is a kind, caring, intelligent, gorgeous woman to take his mind off all that and restore his faith in the female race.’

  ‘Well if I meet anyone like that, I’ll give them his number.’

  Carol looked exasperated. ‘Be serious, Lizzie. You’d be perfect for him!’

  Lizzie sighed. ‘Oh Carol, it’s lovely of you to think of me but I don’t think I’m the woman of Ben’s dreams any more than he’s the man of mine.’

  Carol looked disappointed. ‘Why ever not?’

  Lizzie smiled. She knew Carol had her best interests at heart and she was touched at her concern but a relationship was the last thing she needed, least of all with Ben. She liked him more than when she’d first met him but that was hardly saying anything given their awkward first encounters. She’d never considered him as boyfriend material, not that she even wanted a boyfriend at the moment. Her life was changing and hopefully for the better but she was slap bang in the middle of that change. She was still trying to order her thoughts and her mind was filled with thoughts of her mother, her past and Bea. Bea was always there; a source of comfort and sorrow. Even this morning, ‘Robert De Niro’s Waiting’ by Bananarama had come on the radio and Lizzie had found herself sobbing into her cornflakes as she remembered the routine she and Bea had performed to it in front of the mirror as kids. There was no room in her brain or her heart for anything else. Not yet. She couldn’t tell Carol this of course. ‘I just don’t fancy him. Sorry.’

  Carol looked appalled. ‘You need to get your eyes tested, Lovey. That’s all I’ll say. And I’ll tell you what, if I were thirty years younger, I’d be all over him like a rash.’ She cackled like a harpy. ‘Right, well I can’t stand here all day. I’ve got Zumba in twenty minutes. See you later, alligator,’ she trilled dashing out of the door

  Mrs Nussbaum appeared from the back room where she had been hiding during Carol’s visit. ‘Does that woman ever take a breath?’ she asked. She walked stiffly down the shop, Bambi trotting obediently alongside her.

  Lizzie laughed. ‘I don’t think she gets much of a response from her husband so it all comes out when she’s here.’

  ‘Poor man. Probably can’t get a word in edgeways.’

  ‘I think she’s a bit lonely,’ said Lizzie, picking up a handful of paperbacks ready to restock the fiction section.

  ‘Now that I understand,’ said Mrs Nussbaum, taking a seat on her stool behind the till. Bambi flopped down next to her and rested his head on his paws, although he kept one eye on his owner.

  Lizzie looked at her and felt a pang of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry Mrs N, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t think.’

  ‘Ach nein. It’s okay, Lizzie. I take no offence. Everyone gets lonely and Leonard was a wonderful man. I was lucky to have him for so long, although he could be sehr annoying at times of course but then who isn’t?’ Lizzie nodded and the old lady fixed her with a look. ‘I think you understand about loneliness too, don’t you, my dear?’

  Lizzie hesitated, sifting through the books she was holding. A few months ago she would have brushed away this question with some casual lies designed to reassure and dismiss concerns. However, Bea’s wishes were making her see that there were alternatives. Lizzie wasn’t about to take an ad out in the local paper but she was realising that there were people she could trust with her secrets. She could see that Mrs Nussbaum was one of those people. ‘I suppose I do or rather I didn’t realise that I was lonely until –’

  Mrs Nussbaum was watching her now, eyes twinkling with compassion. ‘Until?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘My sister died.’

  ‘Oh my dear. When?’

  ‘In August.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’

  Lizzie weighed this up. ‘I hadn’t seen my family for a long time. I used to see my sister but not my parents or her family. I found it difficult to talk about. I still do.’ This was the first time Lizzie had admitted this fact to anyone.

  If she had feared the judgement of others by voicing this, she was in for a surprise. Mrs Nussbaum’s face was clouded with sympathetic concern. ‘That must have been very hard for you.’

  Lizzie considered this. ‘Being here helped.’

  Mrs Nussbaum smiled. ‘We are lucky to have found one another aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, I think we are.’ Lizzie smiled at her friend for she recognised that this is what they had become. And she could see that it was always meant to be. It would be easy to dismiss Mrs Nussbaum’s assertion that Lizzie had been sent by some heavenly force. Lizzie wasn’t sure that she believed in that exactly, but she did get the sense that she was meant to be here. For the first time in a long time she had friends and she also had Bea’s letters. The past and the present were aligning somehow. There would no doubt be more pain and sadness to face but for now, things felt right.

  ‘And now?’ asked Mrs Nussbaum, echoing her thoughts.

  ‘Now I’m starting to see my family again. I like my nephew Sam and his dad. And I’ve seen my mum too.’

  ‘And?’

  One word. A single question. A million different answers. ‘It’s going to take time. A lot has happened between us.’

  ‘I understand. A work in progress you might say,’ said Mrs Nussbaum.

  Lizzie smiled. ‘Yes. I like that. A work in progress.’

  ‘Give it time, Lizzie my dear. Give it time. Family is important. Infuriating. But important.’ She picked up her spectacles from where they hung round her neck and rested
them on her nose. ‘Now, I might need your help with the crossword. I’ve already had a kleine peek and there are some tricky ones.’

  Lizzie turned back to the bookshelves with a sense of satisfaction. She knew that she had found the perfect confidante in Mrs Nussbaum. She would never pry or gossip but she would always listen and be ready with a snippet of sage advice. She would almost certainly need her wisdom over the coming months. Lizzie was already thinking about Bea’s next letter and had left it in the kitchen in readiness for later. The prospect was filling her with a mix of excitement and dread. She had no idea where her sister’s wishes would take her next but the newly discovered side of her wanted to find out.

  It was shortly before closing, as Lizzie was putting the day’s takings in the safe, that she heard the bell above the shop door signal a customer. It was unusual to get customers this near to closing on a weekday but Lizzie was so caught up with thoughts of Bea’s next letter that she carried on locking the safe without giving it a thought.

  She heard Mrs Nussbaum’s voice calling her. ‘Lizzie! You have a visitor!’

  Lizzie assumed it would be Susie and she pulled back the curtain, ready to greet her friend with a broad smile on her face. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted her mother.

  Mrs Nussbaum picked up on her obvious shock. ‘It is lovely to meet you, Mrs Harris. Lizzie is a credit to you. The customers love her and I would be lost without her,’ she said with obvious warmth.

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ said Stella, her eyes fixed on Lizzie. Her tone was light but there was something about her gait; a stiffness towards Mrs Nussbaum, that suggested a hint of jealousy for the easy relationship between them.

  Mrs Nussbaum noticed this too and immediately rose to her feet. ‘Well, I shall leave you to it. I am sure you have a lot to talk about. Come along, Bambi,’ she said. The dog leapt up at her words and followed her to the back of the shop. As she passed Lizzie, Mrs Nussbaum put out a hand and rested it on Lizzie’s arm, just for a second. It was a tiny gesture but Lizzie felt its warmth as if she had embraced her. It said, Courage Lizzie. ‘I will see you in the morning, my dear,’ she added.