The Secrets of Sunshine

by Phaedra Patrick

  He knew he’d been broken, but she had helped to make him feel more whole again.

  He wanted her to be part of his future, and Poppy’s, too. Not just as a friend.

  Maybe they needed each other, and each other’s families. It might all be too late for this, or she might not be interested, but he was determined to try.

  ‘If I write the letter now, I could go to her house tonight to deliver it. Will you come with me?’ he asked.

  Poppy broke into a grin. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘I’d love that. But what about Graham?’

  Mitchell took a pen from his pocket and thought about his friend’s new romantic nature. ‘I’m sure he’ll understand.’

  He unfolded the letter he’d started to Liza and stared at his first few words at the top. Then he nodded to assure himself and allowed his feelings for her to flow onto the page.

  Once he finished writing, he and Poppy found Graham and Rosie feeding each other wedding cake with their fingers. ‘I’m so sorry, but we have to dash away for a while,’ Mitchell said. ‘We’ll be back as quick as we can.’

  Graham raised an eyebrow. ‘Liza?’

  Mitchell touched his pocket where he’d placed his letter to her in an envelope. ‘How do you know? You’ve never even met her.’

  ‘I saw it written all over your face when you were twirling on the tyre in my garden. Any man who uses up a lifelong favour to retrieve a padlock for a woman must be smitten. Knew you were a goner before you knew it yourself.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’d love you to be back for our last dance, though. Don’t want my best man to miss that.’

  ‘What time will that be?’

  ‘Midnight. Rosie wants to do it to the twelve chimes of Upchester cathedral. You’ve got just over an hour.’

  Mitchell shot out his hand and Poppy placed hers in his. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘Are your new shoes good for running in?’

  She looked down at her feet. ‘Yep.’

  Graham shook Mitchell’s hand. ‘Good luck, Mitchy Boy.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll need it.’

  Mitchell and Poppy walked quickly through the ballroom, making their way around people dancing. They burst out onto the street and then started to sprint across the city together.

  33

  Liza’s Letter

  As Mitchell jogged across the city with Poppy, he looked out for a cab to hail on the way. However, at almost 11.00 p.m. on a Saturday evening, all the taxis were occupied. If he phoned for one, it might take half an hour to arrive.

  When he and Poppy ran across Redford, Mitchell didn’t think about Yvette’s yellow dress or where she hung her heart-shaped padlock. He didn’t picture anything in his mind other than Liza.

  At the end of the bridge, they stopped for a short while, panting together as they caught their breath. Then their feet were busy again, beating rhythmically against the pavement.

  They passed late-night café bars where friends lounged around small plastic tables, drinking coffees and beers. They traversed around the street cleaners who were already tackling the day’s rubbish on the pavements. A queue of people snaked from a crepe van, and the sharp smell of lemon contrasted with the warm smell of melting sugar. On another night, Mitchell would have stopped and bought Poppy a sweet treat. But for now, they had to concentrate on their mission.

  When they eventually reached Liza’s house, Mitchell marvelled at how Poppy managed to look so calm and collected while he wheezed like an old man.

  The lights were on both downstairs and up, and he saw a TV flickering in the sitting room that told him someone was home. There were no cars parked on the street to indicate that Sheila or Naomi might be visiting.

  Mitchell took a moment to compose himself. He smoothed down his lapels and fastened a button on his suit jacket that had come undone. He made sure the white rose in his buttonhole was neat and tidy. Only then did he reach inside his breast pocket and take out the letter to Liza.

  Mitchell’s heart thumped as he rang her doorbell. He listened for her footsteps in the hallway, or a jingle of her keys in the lock, but no one came to the door. There was a small thud from inside the house and Sasha jumped up onto the windowsill to stare at him, her breath fogging up the pane of glass as she made a wet smear with her nose.

  Mitchell could see the expectation and hope etched upon Poppy’s face, and he felt it, too. He yearned for Liza to answer the door with a ‘Hey,’ and a smile.

  He pressed the doorbell again. A curtain twitched at the upstairs window, but after a few more minutes, Liza still hadn’t answered.

  ‘I don’t think she’s home,’ Poppy said, trying to sound chirpy, though he could tell she didn’t believe her own words.

  Mitchell wanted to ring the doorbell again, but he didn’t want to harass her if she wasn’t ready, or interested in seeing him again.

  ‘Are you going to post her letter instead?’

  He nodded glumly. ‘It’s the only option.’

  Mitchell took a pen out of his jacket pocket and rested the letter flat against the wall. He wrote an additional note to Liza on the envelope.

  Dearest Liza,

  Poppy and I called for you at 11.30 p.m. tonight. We’d hang around but I promised Graham we’d be back to the Jupiter Hotel by midnight, for his last wedding dance.

  I hope to see you soon, and Poppy says hello, too.

  Mitchell

  He read over his note then inserted a small arrow on the line above his name. In very small letters, he added the word Love.

  Then he posted the letter through her door.

  When he looked back at Poppy, she looked smaller, standing in the shadows. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Liza can read what I’ve written and take time to think about things.’

  ‘I know. It’s just… Well, I miss her.’

  He pursed his lips, understanding. ‘I know. And I do, too.’

  He placed his arm around her shoulder and they walked back along the street together and onto a main road. Their footsteps were slower, more forlorn, and Mitchell glanced back intermittently at Liza’s house.

  Poppy tugged his sleeve. ‘Come on, Dad. There’s nothing you can do. We need to get back for Graham’s dance.’

  He glanced at his watch and his eyes widened. ‘We only have twenty minutes. We can’t make it on foot. I’ll have to try to hail a cab.’

  Poppy looked around her doubtfully.

  The traffic was busy and Mitchell felt as if he’d been dropped inside a computer game as cars shifted past him at speed. He lifted his head, up and down, to try to locate a taxi with its light on. He’d always meant to download Uber, but he and Poppy usually got around the city on the bus just fine.

  ‘What are we going to do, Dad?’

  Mitchell performed some calculations in his head. If they caught a bus in the next couple of minutes, they might just about make it. He held Poppy’s hand tightly. ‘Let’s hurry along to the bus stop.’

  As they sped towards it, three beeps pierced the air above the noise of the other traffic. A car pulled up alongside them and the window wound down. Liza leaned over towards them. ‘Hop in,’ she said.

  Mitchell stared at her as if he’d seen an angel. ‘You’re here.’

  ‘Yes. You’re not hallucinating.’

  Poppy opened the rear door and slid into the car without question. Mitchell was slower at joining Liza in the passenger seat, still surprised she was here.

  ‘We called at your house,’ he said.

  ‘I know. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see you at first. I hid upstairs, but then I heard my letter box rattle – and I read you have to get somewhere very quickly. I can take you there.’

  He swallowed nervously. ‘Have you read my full letter?’

  ‘Yes. And we have lots to talk about. But for now, fasten your seat belt.’ She beeped and deftly pulled out, leaning forward in her seat so her nose wasn’t far from the windscreen. Rousing classical music played on the car radio. ‘This is a fantastic tune to drive along to.’
r />   ‘Just so you know – I meant every word in my letter,’ Mitchell said.

  She didn’t reply, but gave him a quick smile that he couldn’t decipher. ‘Sorry I took a while to get to you. I mean, a girl needs time to choose her shoes, even in a rush. I went for the fuchsia-pink ones.’

  ‘Good choice,’ Poppy said from the back.

  ‘Thank you, kind miss.’

  They drove past the five bridges, which looked so different at night, each lit up and seeming like they were floating above the river that flowed black, unseen, beneath them.

  Liza glanced over at Redford. ‘I can see the appeal of that redbrick bridge more now,’ she said. ‘Never noticed it before. It looks rather solid and handsome.’

  ‘I’m getting to appreciate the new white Yacht one,’ Mitchell said. ‘It’s different but stunning.’

  In the back of the car, Poppy sighed. ‘Please don’t tell us about the concrete one again, Dad.’

  Mitchell grinned. ‘I’ll try not to.’

  He found himself gripping his seat as Liza took a sharp bend in the road. She finally pulled into the Jupiter Hotel’s car park with a screech.

  Mitchell and Poppy unbuckled their seat belts and opened the doors. They both clambered out quickly.

  However, Liza stayed put.

  Mitchell placed his hand on the car roof and bent down to speak to her. ‘Are you going to join us?’

  She bit her bottom lip. ‘I’m not sure, Mitchell. It’s late and I’m giving a lesson tomorrow. I dashed out of the house and Sasha will wonder where I’ve gone to…’

  He gave her time to think.

  The music on the radio ended and the presenter started to drone on in a sleep-inducing voice.

  Poppy ducked her head around Mitchell’s arm to speak to Liza. ‘Rosie made Graham a tapestry, a family crest,’ she said. ‘It’s got a unicorn and a donkey on it. Because they’re so different. You should come see that, at least.’

  Mitchell and Liza shared a smile, before she paused a few beats. The anticipation of her reply made his chest feel tight.

  ‘Well, that sounds most interesting,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I should take a closer look.’

  Mitchell beamed. ‘It’s 11.58,’ he said.

  Liza flung her car door open and jumped out. The three of them ran across the car park into the hotel and shoved open the doors to the ballroom.

  Graham and Rosie stood together on the dance floor. No music played as Mitchell, Liza and Poppy approached them.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mitchy Boy. Talk about cutting it fine,’ Graham said. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘My fault.’ Liza pointed down at her feet. ‘I had to find shoes to wear. One was under my bed and it took a while to locate it.’

  Rosie broke into a smile. ‘I love those. Pregnancy has made my feet swell so I had to wear these.’ She hitched up her wedding dress to display a pair of purple Nike trainers.

  ‘They’re so cool,’ Liza said. ‘That look really suits you.’

  ‘I didn’t know about that,’ Graham laughed.

  ‘We can tell each other all our secrets, now we’re married,’ Rosie said, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  The first stroke of midnight sounded faintly from the Upchester cathedral clock.

  ‘This is it,’ Graham said. He raised a hand and waved at Brock, who had also taken on DJ duties.

  The opening bars of ‘Crazy For You’ by Madonna started to play. Graham and Rosie held each other close and swayed side by side. Other couples filtered onto the dance floor to join them.

  Poppy stood there stiffly. ‘I don’t know this one,’ she said. ‘I might join the kids under the table.’

  ‘Go and play,’ Mitchell said. ‘Have fun.’

  She sidled away self-consciously, then broke into a skip.

  ‘Shall we… um, get a drink? I’m in the mood for a glass of Chardonnay, or do you fancy a nice red?’ Liza gestured towards the bar. ‘Or you can show me the tapestry.’

  Mitchell followed her gaze. After running across the city, he could really do with a glass of cider. But there was something he wanted more. He positioned his arms as if ballroom dancing with an invisible partner. ‘I know I’m not perfect – far from it. But I’d really like to ask you to dance, Miss Bradfield.’

  She paused for a while, so he wasn’t sure what her answer would be. Her eyes flicked away from his before she gave him a short nod. She took hold of her skirt and curtsied. ‘That’s a nice proposition. Not something I’ve been asked before. I don’t mind if I do, Mr Fisher.’

  They stepped closer together and he wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand. When she placed her hand lightly on the back of his jacket, he felt light-headed, in a good way. Her perfume had a hint of coconut and it reminded him of holidays and sunshine. And he knew he liked it. Very much indeed.

  From beneath a table at the edge of the dance floor, among a line of other children, Poppy stuck her thumbs up at him.

  34

  The New Bridge

  Two days later

  Mitchell and Poppy walked along the main road in Upchester, past the Slab, Vicky, Archie and Redford, towards the new Yacht bridge. The river ran beside them, a shimmer of smooth grey satin. Mitchell enjoyed being in the city with the sun warming his cheeks. It brought out a happiness in people, a bonhomie that didn’t exist in duller weather.

  There was an energy in the air, an infectious buzz about today’s centenary celebrations and the opening of the new bridge. Families and friends waved flags and held on to bobbing balloons as they teemed towards it. Mitchell felt genuinely happy for the lovers who held hands and looked into each other’s eyes as they walked along.

  It was something he’d once had for himself, and perhaps he could have again.

  When he saw a swish of a red jacket among the crowds, Mitchell let it slip away, knowing it could never be Anita. He focused on what was ahead of him instead. He’d arranged to meet Liza and her family in the middle of the bridge, next to one of its huge masts.

  Mitchell wondered if any of the people surrounding him might have written a letter to him, and received his own in reply. It made him feel a stronger connection to the city and everyone who lived in it, as if there were invisible threads binding them all together.

  When he and Poppy approached the mouth of the bridge, Mitchell saw the barriers had been removed and food stalls and vans now lined its pavements. The smell of hot dogs made him feel hungry. Other vendors sold hats, T-shirts and commemorative posters with Jasmine Trencher’s bridge design on them, and he could see how his own original plan had been steeped in the past. The new white structure that towered in front of him was majestic and beautiful.

  At the far end of the bridge, a big Word Up logo spun around on a large screen above the stage.

  Mitchell spied Liza with her back to him several metres away. She wore her white shirt with rows of dogs on it, and the purple highlights in her hair had a dragonfly-like iridescence. When she turned and they caught each other’s eye, something bubbled gently and hopefully inside him.

  A group of excited toddlers milled around Mitchell and Poppy, their parents trying to gather them all together in one place. When Mitchell halted to let them pass by, he felt a hand stroke down his arm, as if he was a cat.

  Spinning around in surprise, he saw a flash of platinum blond hair and slash of scarlet.

  ‘Mitchell. Salutations,’ Jasmine Trencher said with a smile that showed a smudge of lipstick on her front tooth. ‘So fantastic to see you. I wondered if you’d be here for the celebrations.’

  His mouth gaped and the colour seeped from his face. He instantly started to sift through all the words he had screamed at her in his own head over the last couple of years to find ones that were suitable in front of Poppy.

  His daughter squeezed his hand. ‘Dad?’

  Mitchell swallowed the words down thickly. He ordered himself to think properly before he spoke t
o Jasmine. ‘It’s okay, Pops,’ he said gently. ‘You go and see Liza, if you like?’

  She nodded and skipped off, and he watched as the Bradfields embraced her, as if she was one of their own family.

  Yvette wore a black sundress and cradled Connor in a white sling, lowering him so Poppy could take a peek. Naomi crouched down to wipe ice cream from her kids’ mouths and Sheila enjoyed the attention of a street performer who played the guitar and sang to her. When they noticed Mitchell looking over, they each gave him a wave.

  He raised his hand back, and a feeling of belonging rose within him. When he returned his focus to Jasmine, he found a calmness in his breathing. His smile didn’t feel too forced. ‘The bridge looks beautiful. It’s amazing to see everyone using it. You must feel very proud.’

  Jasmine pressed her lips together, looking bewildered at his generous words. ‘Yes, totally. A couple of years’ hard work, but worth it. I mean, it’s really magnificent, huh? I admired your original design, but it just wasn’t…’

  He held up his hand to stop her. ‘You were right, Jas. Okay? Your design is more fitting for the city. You just went about introducing it in the wrong way. But it’s all water under the bridge,’ he said, not intending to make a pun. ‘I’ve made peace with it, and a lot of other things, too.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, taking this in. ‘Good. I mean, no hard feelings, right?’

  He couldn’t grant her that much, and he looked around him. ‘Are you here with anyone to celebrate your achievement?’

  Her shoulders dropped and he noticed. ‘I, um, well… no, actually. Things are totally awkward at Foster and Hardman at the moment. Someone complained I pilfered a design from them. I mean, as if I’d ever need to do that. Why would I? It’s ridiculous. I keep trying to grab Don for a coffee to explain, but…’ She flicked her eyes away. ‘Um, are you still in touch with him, Mitchell? Perhaps you could…’

  Mitchell cleared his throat. ‘I’m no longer part of that world. I’ve moved on.’