Hot emotion burns at the back of my throat.
‘I know,’ I say.
Nina looks down at the letter, her thumb moving across her words.
‘There is so much I never said to her,’ she says.
‘You always think you have more time,’ I hear myself say.
Nina moves her eyes to look at me. Suddenly, I feel my face is wet. She reaches over and picks up a blank piece of paper. For a second, we just look at each other, a thousand words floating between us.
‘Do you want to write one?’
I stare back at her, my throat squeezing in pain.
‘I don’t think I can,’ I manage, giving a small laugh.
Nina squeezes my hand, her kind eyes locked on to mine. She turns away and folds her letter into an envelope. There is a small hole in her envelope, and she threads the string of the balloon through it.
I watch her, unable to speak, as she passes me a balloon.
‘You don’t have to write anything,’ she says, taking my hand back in hers, ‘you just need to feel it.’
I grip my balloon, which waves at me in the sharp December wind. Thousands of thoughts rip through my brain, hot flashes of emotion pierce my skin like daggers and fear wraps itself around my throat. But, as always, the loudest thought thumps through my brain.
She wasn’t supposed to die.
Nina gives my hand a tight squeeze and nods. Like a silent signal between us, both of our hands open, sending the balloons into the night. The red circles dance with each other as they are swept up in the wind and, slowly, they are swallowed up by the inky black sky. Nina curls her arm around mine, and as I move my eyes away from the sky, I notice a robin has landed at our feet, and for a second, I almost feel like she heard me.
I miss you, Mum.
*
I clutch a letter in one hand and raise the other up to Joy’s front door, which clicks open instantly. A thick smell of sugar wafts into the frosty morning air and she dusts her hands on her apron.
‘Oh,’ I say, ‘something smells nice! What are you making?’
Joy smiles at me. ‘Oh, just some muffins,’ she says. ‘Would you like some?’
My stomach aches.
I’d love some, but if I say yes then I’ll have to go inside and I don’t have time. I need to get to Sunfields before midday.
‘No, that’s okay,’ I smile. ‘But thank you. They smell lovely.’
Joy tucks her hands into each other. ‘Are Priya and Emma in today? I could bring some round for them.’
I glance over my shoulder at our dark house.
‘No, they’re both out.’
Emma is looking around flats with Margot, and Priya has gone to stay with her parents for a few days. Which is the best place for her. I’m still waiting for her to react properly to seeing Josh with another girl. She has barely said a word about it since the other day. If I didn’t have a yellow bruise on my knee from Priya yanking me to the pavement I’d think I made the whole thing up.
‘What are you up to today, then?’ Joy asks.
I drop the letter to my side as I feel the familiar warm glow filling my chest.
‘I’ve taken the day off work. I’m just going off to Sunfields, I visit them quite a lot.’
I see a brief frown flit across Joy’s face.
‘The residential home?’ she says.
I nod. ‘Yeah. I’ve been volunteering there. I’m actually spending Christmas with them. They weren’t going to have a Christmas dinner otherwise; none of their families could be with them.’
Joy looks at me, and for a second her smile slips.
‘Oh,’ she says, ‘how sad.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, my eyes flitting down to my watch.
9.07. My bus leaves in eight minutes.
‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘I wanted to say that I bought some stamps,’ I wave the letter about proudly, ‘so I wanted to offer to post some of your letters today, if you have any. There’s a postbox on the high street, right?’
A shadow passes over Joy’s face. She reaches forward and takes the letter from my hand.
‘That’s okay,’ she says, ‘I can post it for you. I need to send a last-minute Christmas parcel to Jenny anyway. I shouldn’t have left it so late, I can’t believe it is only a week away.’
Joy places the letter on her mantelpiece and then turns back to smile at me.
‘What would you like for tea later?’ she says. ‘I could make us a pie.’
I feel a cold thud in my chest as I look back at her.
It’s Thursday. I’d forgotten.
How could I have forgotten it’s Thursday?
‘Oh,’ I say, ‘Joy, I’m so sorry but I can’t do tonight. I promised I’d go to Sunfields.’
Joy places the letter on the mantelpiece behind her and looks back at me. ‘Oh,’ she says, ‘not to worry. We can always do next Thursday.’
I nod, glancing down at my watch.
‘Definitely,’ I say. ‘Well, I’d better go, my bus arrives soon.’
Joy leans out of the doorway as I walk down the path.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Have a nice day, Bea.’
‘You too.’
*
‘You want to write a story?’
Jakub drops two tea bags into the large china teapot and looks back at me.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘a news story. I’m a reporter, that’s what I do for a job.’
I feel a frisson of pride as I hear myself say these words out loud with such force. I usually mumble my job title if anybody asks me. I’m not embarrassed by it, obviously, I’ve just never felt like a real reporter.
Jakub looks over his shoulder and smiles at me.
‘I just feel,’ I say, taking two teacups from the shelf, ‘that if people knew what was going on here, they would do something about it. They would help. Like, this is their home.’
I place the teacups on the tray. Jakub shrugs.
‘Maybe,’ he says, ‘but the home closes in about two weeks now. I don’t think the council will change their mind.’
He gestures towards the door and I prop it open. He nods his head in thanks.
‘But they might,’ I say, following him out. ‘We won’t know if we don’t try.’
I push open the living-room door and angle my body to prop it open as Jakub gets closer to me. I hold the tray of mince pies awkwardly.
Argh, what am I doing? There is no way we’ll both fit through this tiny gap.
I look up at Jakub to acknowledge my stupidity, but to my alarm he starts to shimmy his way through the gap. As he shifts past me, I feel his chest graze against mine and I try to stop myself from blushing furiously.
My God! If he doesn’t hurry up and get past me my head is going to explode! Does he really need to be this close to me? Couldn’t he have waited until I’d moved? I mean, we’re practically having sex!
‘Oh, is that a cuppa?’
Gus’s chipper voice breaks through my thoughts and, suddenly, Jakub is through the door. I try to control my legs, which feel like they’re about to crumple to the floor, as I step away from the door. It swings back behind me as though nothing has happened.
Gus rustles his newspaper and Jakub smiles, carefully putting the tray down on the table.
‘It sure is,’ he says, ‘and Bea has bought us some mince pies.’
‘Oh, I say,’ Gus remarks.
Jakub goes to pour the tea and I find myself sticking my hand out to stop him.
‘Wait,’ I say, ‘you have to let the tea brew.’
Jakub raises his eyebrows at me and I can’t help but laugh as I hear Nina murmur her approval from her chair.
‘Is there anything good in the paper, Gus?’ I ask, taking the fat mince pies out of the packet and placing them on one of the patterned plates.
Gus smooths out the paper again. ‘Oh yes,’ he says, ‘there is a story in here all about a man who tried to rob the NatWest in Teddington. He ran in with a pair of tights over his head, but they h
ad a ladder in them! The idiot.’
I sit down in the chair next to Gus and look at the story he is showing me.
‘Did you write any of these stories?’ he asks. ‘I can’t see your name anywhere.’
I scan down, noticing Angela’s name printed at the bottom.
‘No,’ I say, ‘not any of those ones.’ I look up at Jakub, who is engrossed in conversation with Nina. ‘But I do want to. I want to write a story about this place, and how it’s closing.’
Gus raises his hooded eyes to look at me.
‘I wanted to ask if I could interview you, and Nina and Sylvia,’ I say.
Gus chuckles. ‘Me?’ he says. ‘In the paper?’
I nod.
‘Oh,’ Gus says, ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘Your son could read it,’ I say, ‘and your grandchildren.’
Gus looks back down at his paper.
‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I suppose so. Excuse me.’ He pulls himself to his feet and I watch as Gus slowly walks out of the living room.
I move my body round to face Sylvia, who is reading her book.
‘It’s such a shame that his family can’t come for Christmas,’ I say. ‘He’s such a great man.’
‘He’s a coward.’
I blink at Sylvia in shock.
What?
‘Gus?’ I say. ‘What do you mean?’
Sylvia looks up at me from her book. ‘He never asked them,’ she says. ‘He lost his nerve.’
I frown at Sylvia.
‘But why—’
‘Bea?’ Nina says, looking up from her conversation with Jakub. ‘You can pour the tea now.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I watch my computer screen impatiently as Facebook blinks back at me optimistically.
Come on, reply! Why aren’t you replying? What else are you doing? Everybody has Facebook on their phones these days. Surely he’s read the message.
‘Bea?’
I look up at Angela and feel a zap of emotion as she walks towards my desk. Her back is arched over and she rubs her eyes with the back of her hand as she leans on the side of my desk. My finger snaps on my mouse and my story fills my screen, I feel a swell of excitement.
I’ve been waiting for Angela to come and speak to me all day. I never like to bother her, she always has her head buried in her work, and the odd time I’ve tried to strike up a conversation she’s acted as if I’ve pulled her out of a trance.
‘Good morning, Angela,’ I say brightly, ‘how are you?’
Angela looks at me, a confused expression flitting across her face.
‘Oh,’ she says, ‘yes, I’m fine, thank you, Bea. I wanted to tell you that I’ve got a few press releases that I’ll be emailing over to you this afternoon that need to be typed up.’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Angela!’
Angela turns to leave my desk and stops.
‘I wanted to show you something. I’ve finished writing my story, I wanted to see what you think.’
Angela pauses and I look up at her hopefully.
She needs to read it. It’s a really good story, it’s the best one I’ve ever written. I managed to talk to Gus, Sylvia and Nina about Sunfields. I even managed to get a quote from Jakub. Nobody will be able to read it without wanting to help.
‘Oh, right,’ Angela says. ‘Has Duncan seen it?’
My eyes flit over to Duncan’s office. The grey blinds are pulled down over his windows and his office door is firmly shut. He hasn’t left the office all day.
‘Err . . . no,’ I say, ‘but he did say I should work on something.’
Angela nods.
‘Great,’ she says, ‘let’s show Duncan now. If we’re both happy with it then you’re in time to make this week’s edition.’
My heart turns over as I grab my printed story and follow Angela.
In this week’s edition?
‘Are you going to speak to Duncan?’ Faye’s blonde head clocks round as me and Angela walk past.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘to have a meeting about—’
‘Great,’ Faye springs to her feet, ‘I need to speak to him too.’
I feel my eyes roll as Faye totters after us.
Why does she have to be involved in everything?
We reach Duncan’s office door and Angela raps on it with her knuckles, pushing the door open before Duncan has the chance to answer. As the door swings open, I feel my eyes widen.
Duncan’s office is usually filled with coffee mugs and sweets, his desk empty of any real work, and all his windows are always flung open, letting in rays of natural light. My eyes squint at Duncan as if they are out of focus.
He jerks up, pulling his head from his hands and freeing his eyes from a sea of papers, all fanned across his desk and surrounded by an avalanche of biros. There is a large Starbucks cup at one end of his desk, and at the other end a paper bag is languishing, with tiny welts of grease swelling in patches. His tie is askew around his neck, and his face forces itself into a smile as soon as he sees us. The excitement brewing in my mind is replaced by a cold wash of emotion, and I suddenly want to leave.
‘Sorry, Duncan,’ Angela says absent-mindedly. ‘Is now a bad time?’
Duncan slaps his hands together, and then quickly tries to organise his desk.
‘No!’ he cries. ‘Never a bad time! My door is always open, remember? How can I help you ladies?’
I glance back at Faye, whose eyes are wide at the sight of Duncan.
‘Bea has finished writing her story,’ Angela says, striding towards Duncan and handing him the piece of paper. ‘I think we should read it, in the hope of including it in this week’s edition.’
Duncan fumbles the paper in his hands, his eyes widening and scrunching up again, as if he’s using them for the first time today.
‘Oh, right,’ he says, ‘of course. Well done, Bea. How exciting.’
He pushes his thumb and forefinger against his forehead as he squints down.
‘Remind me,’ he says, looking up at me. ‘What was this about?’
I look around, my mouth suddenly dry.
I’m back. I’m back in the same position I was in all those weeks ago. Duncan, Angela and Faye all here, ready to hear my pitch.
My hand curls into small fists and I take a deep breath.
‘It’s a story about a local care home, Sunfields, that is being shut down by the council. I want to raise awareness of what is happening in our community. They are kicking these people out of their home—’
I break off, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. Duncan is looking at me, his watery eyes sad.
‘That’s awful,’ he says softly, and then he quickly looks back down to the paper. ‘Terrible!’ he adds, his voice returning to his normal, cheerful manner.
‘Why do you want to raise awareness?’ Faye asks, scanning her eyes over the story.
Why is she so interested?
I look back at her defiantly.
‘Because I want to get them to change their mind.’
*
I race through the door, my heart thumping from charging down the street. I push my way into the living room and drop my shopping bag on the table with a large thud.
Gus gasps. ‘Bloody hell, Bea!’ He laughs. ‘Have you got a body in there?’
I grin as I hear Sylvia chuckle softly behind her book.
‘No,’ I say, ‘I’ve got us a turkey. I managed to get the last one in Tesco.’
And what an ordeal it was. Christ, I never thought it would be so hard to get a turkey. Christmas is two days away! I thought I had loads of time!
‘Oh, lovely,’ Nina says, walking across from the window. ‘That looks like a nice one.’
Sylvia pulls a face. ‘I hate raw meat.’
Jakub appears from the hallway. He spots the turkey and looks impressed.
‘Whoa,’ he says, ‘that’s huge.’
I shrug. ‘Well, we can have turkey sandwiches for the next few days.’
J
akub drops the turkey back into the shopping bag and carries it out towards the kitchen. Nina pulls up a chair next to me and smiles.
‘How did the story go down at work?’ she asks.
I smile.
‘Good!’ I say. ‘They really liked it! I just want to reread it myself a few times and make sure it’s definitely good to go.’ I smile at Gus and Sylvia who are watching me. ‘I think we might publish it next week!’
Sylvia dips her head at me. ‘How exciting,’ she says.
I open my mouth to reply when I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. Priya’s name pops up on the screen.
Where are you? Are you in tonight or are you staying at your boyfriend’s house?
I look down when she texts me again.
Whatever his name is.
I feel my face pinch as I push the phone into my bag.
‘So,’ I say, a grin spreading across my face, ‘is everyone excited for tomorrow?’
I turn to Sylvia as she starts talking, when my phone lights up again. I look down into my bag and my heart jolts.
Sam Thomas has messaged you.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I glance over my shoulder as I hear the front door click open. I press my back against my bedroom door and scan the letter one more time.
Dear B,
I can’t believe all that you are doing for Nina. I never knew you had it in you. I guess I never should have questioned it. It’s amazing that you’ve managed to get a local reporter to write about it. I didn’t know you read the paper, do you read it every day? They post so much, sometimes stories just disappear. I’m doing okay. It feels weird being in here at Christmas. I have made friends, but you’re the only one I’d want to spend Christmas with. It makes me miss Mum a lot. Hope you’re doing okay and you’re with your family for Christmas. Tell your parents I say hi, if they don’t hate me.
Love you always.
Nathan x
‘Bea?’ The door shakes behind my back. ‘Bea? Are you in there?’
My heart jolts as I quickly shove the letter under my bed and jump up. I pull the door open and look at Priya. Her eyes are wild and she’s blinking madly. Too much. Why is she blinking so much?
‘Hey,’ I say, ‘are you okay?’
‘Yeah!’ she says, her voice bouncing around the walls. ‘I’m good! I’m great, actually.’ Her eyes flit over my body, resting on my coat. ‘Are you going out?’
The Accidental Love Letter Page 21
