The Secrets Between Sisters

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?’

Lizzie cleared her throat and stared at her hands. Go on, ask her you fool. ‘I just wondered – ’ she began, ‘if you – ’ Susie was smiling at her with encouragement. ‘– had any more of that delicious Millionaire’s Shortbread left?’

‘Sure,’ she grinned at Lizzie. ‘Two pieces is it?’ Lizzie nodded, feeling a sense of encroaching disappointment. She was going to fail on her mission. ‘Actually,’ continued Susie,’ I was going to ask you if you fancied coming out for a drink some time. I know you were busy when I asked before so do you fancy it? I could do with getting out of the flat away from mopey Ben if I’m being brutally honest, but I reckon we should get to know each other, seeing as we’re shop neighbours.’

Lizzie almost stuttered over her words. ‘That would be great. I would love that. Really.’ Her heart surged with joy. She had done what Bea had asked or rather she was on her way to achieving it. She would go home tonight feeling rather proud of herself.

‘Great. How about this evening?’ suggested Susie.

Lizzie faltered. She hadn’t expected this. Of course she had realised that becoming friends with someone would involve actually spending time with that person but she had assumed that she might have a little more time to get used to the idea. Susie was looking at her expectantly now and Lizzie knew that if she hesitated, all would be lost. ‘Lovely,’ she found herself saying in a voice that didn’t really sound like her own.

‘Brilliant. How about The Coach and Horses around eight? It’s a bit less spit and sawdust than some of the other pubs around here.’

‘Lovely,’ repeated Lizzie because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She had to do this now. She had no choice.

‘Perfect. Looking forward to it,’ said Susie. ‘See you later.’

Lizzie nodded and made her way back to the bookshop.

‘Ach Lizzie, I thought you had been abducted by aliens,’ smiled Mrs Nussbaum as she entered the shop. ‘And did you forget something?’ she added. Lizzie looked down at her hands and realised that they were empty. Mrs Nussbaum patted Lizzie on the arm on the way past. ‘I will go, my dear. You do not quite seem yourself today. You seem a little different. Are you all right?’

‘Sorry. Yes I’m fine,’ she said. Mrs Nussbaum nodded and disappeared next door. Lizzie smiled to herself. She was feeling different, as if the ground beneath her feet was starting to shift. They were only tiny movements; small tremors in the grand scheme of things, but still the ripples could have a profound effect. They might even change her life forever.

Chapter Six

Early October

Lizzie had a new friend and her name was Susie. Their first evening out had been a success and Lizzie had found herself enjoying Susie’s company in a way that she hadn’t enjoyed a person’s company for a long time. It was different to spending time with Bea. She had enthusiasm and warmth like Bea, but none of that shared history of course. At first, Lizzie thought she might find this a problem but in many ways it was liberating. She didn’t need to be Lizzie with the troubled past and emotional baggage. She didn’t have to be anyone really. She could almost start from scratch; be whoever she wanted to be. Susie wasn’t to know. And Lizzie’s hunch had been correct. Susie liked to talk but she listened too. She was more the instigator of topics but she always wanted to know what Lizzie thought. This also felt a little different to conversations with Bea. In the inevitable family hierarchy, Bea was Queen Bea (their father had even given her this nickname). Lizzie never minded. She idolised her sister and Bea never used her position to lord it over her. However, it meant that over the years her conversations with Bea had usually involved Lizzie going to her with a problem and Bea offering a solution. Lizzie was pretty sure she could go to Susie for advice if she needed to but their emerging friendship was about more than that. It was more even somehow and that felt surprisingly good.

During the first evening in the pub, Lizzie had been relieved that the conversation hadn’t veered towards questions of the past or her family. They talked about the day to day, about the bookshop, Mrs Nussbaum and then the coffee shop. Susie had talked about Ben, about how responsible she felt for him, about how angry she had been when his ex-wife had cheated on him and finally left him. Lizzie found herself liking Susie even more for her sibling loyalty but she also found her own attitude towards Ben softening somewhat. She could see that perhaps she’d been an easy target for his anger. Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Lizzie understood this more than most.

They had left the pub late and to Lizzie’s surprise, she felt a little tipsy as the evening air filled her lungs. She had wobbled on her feet and Susie had put out an arm to steady her and then linked her arm through Lizzie’s as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Lizzie felt a moment of pure happiness right then, partly induced by the alcohol, but partly because there was someone who cared about her; someone other than Bea.

They had made these excursions a weekly event after that and Lizzie found herself looking forward to the evening, to enjoying the ritual of picking out something to wear and applying a little make-up before she went to meet Susie. It was just an evening in the pub and she knew she didn’t need to make an effort. When she wondered who she was doing it for, she realised that she was doing it for herself and that felt right and long overdue.

On their third night out, Susie had arrived late as usual (Lizzie even relished this novelty as she had usually been the one to arrive late to meet her religiously punctual sister). As she burst through the door with customary vim, she spotted Lizzie and waved. Lizzie smiled and waved back at her friend. Her friend. Just the thought of it cheered her.

‘I’ve had an idea!’ cried Susie, rushing over and placing a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. Lizzie had discovered that Susie was a very tactile person. It had taken her a while to get used to her easy affection but it was another thing she was starting to like. Lizzie raised her eyebrows ready for her friend’s announcement. Susie gave the coy look of a person with a secret. ‘You should start a book group!’ she cried triumphantly.

‘A book group?’ said Lizzie uncertainly.

‘Yesss! And you should hold it at the coffee shop.’

Lizzie looked even less certain. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Oh yes. I’ve told Ben and he thinks it’s a great idea.’

‘Did he use those exact words?’

Susie grimaced and swayed her head from side to side as if trying to think of the best response. ‘Not those exact words.’

‘I don’t think we should do it if he’s not keen.’

Susie batted her protestations away with a flick of her hand. ‘Pfff! He’s not keen on anything at the moment. Don’t worry. I’ll make him see sense. It could work so well. A big space for the group. Free publicity for us. It’s just what this community needs!’

‘But who’s going to run it?’

Susie looked at her in astonishment. ‘Why you, dear Lizzie!’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know what to say.’

Susie gave her a look of mock sternness. ‘Now we’re having none of that self-doubt nonsense. You know everything about books. You’ll be brilliant.’ Susie uttered this with such finality and Lizzie was suddenly struck by how like Bea she sounded. She had always done her best to banish Lizzie’s cloud of self-doubt. It hadn’t worked that well but she had tried. Susie was staring at her now, energy and enthusiasm radiating from every pore. ‘I’ll be there. I’ll help you. We’ll put up posters in the coffee shop and bookshop, maybe a small ad in the local newspaper. Then we’ll get in some wine and nibbles. It will be great.’ Her face was so open and sincere.

‘Do you really think I could do it?’

Susie gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Of course. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t tell you to do something you couldn’t.’

Lizzie looked at her and felt overwhelmed by her simple words. They reached out to her and she couldn’t ignore them. She took a deep breath. ‘Why not?’

‘That’s the spirit. Right, now I need a drink. Is that the Rioja?’ Lizzie nodded. ‘I’ll just get a bottle shall I? Oh and by the way, Ben has actually shown himself to be quite useful by suggesting a book.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Lizzie intrigued.

‘Yes. It’s Toast by Nigel Slater. Do you know it?’

‘Er, yes,’ said Lizzie feeling wrong-footed all of a sudden.

‘Back in a sec,’ said Susie, heading to the bar.

Lizzie couldn’t believe that Ben, of all people, had actually chosen one of Bea’s favourite books. It took her a second to compute this fact and it made her think about one of the rare occasions when Bea had visited Lizzie at her flat. It had been during the middle stages of Bea’s illness when she was still able to drive. Bea had phoned out of the blue and said that she needed to escape for the night. It was one of the few times when Lizzie had felt that she was caring for her sister and it also made her realise just how sick she actually was.

Lizzie had cooked spaghetti Bolognese, which had been a childhood favourite and they had sat on the sofa watching Nigel Slater on the television.

‘Sit down, Nigel!’ Bea had cried as he ate another dish standing up. ‘I love that man,’ she declared. ‘I know we’d be best friends if we met.’ Lizzie noticed that her sister hardly ate anything. She had always been slim but she was starting to lose weight around her face now too.

By nine o’clock Bea was looking tired and Lizzie had suggested that they turn in. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ she said.

Bea shook her head. ‘No. We can share your bed, like old times at Granny’s.’

Lizzie had smiled. They had snuggled down together and Lizzie could see Bea’s eyes starting to close. ‘No kicking or stealing the duvet,’ said Bea sleepily. ‘I remember what you were like.’ Lizzie had watched her sister as she fell asleep and felt utterly helpless. It was the first time she had realised that she might not always be there for her. She had moved down the bed and nestled alongside Bea feeling the warmth of her sister’s body beside her and wishing that she could hold onto this moment forever.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Susie as she returned with the wine and another glass.

Lizzie looked up at her and realised that there were fat tears rolling down her cheeks onto the beer-stained table. There were too many tears to blame it on hay-fever. Susie was staring at her with such concern that before Lizzie could stop herself, she said, ‘I was just thinking about my sister. Toast was one of her favourite books.’

Lizzie stared down at her hands and Susie reached out and took hold of one of them. ‘What happened, Lizzie?’ She said it so gently and softly that Lizzie didn’t want to hold back the truth any longer. And so she told her new friend all about Bea; about how funny, wonderful and clever she was. Lizzie told her how much she loved her sister and how, since the day Bea died, it had felt as if a significant part of her heart was missing.

Susie listened in rapt silence and when Lizzie had finished she had said simply, ‘I wish I could have met her. She sounds amazing.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘She was. You would have got on very well, I think.’

Susie gave her a searching look. ‘I thought you were carrying around something sad. I’m touched that you’ve talked to me about it.’

Lizzie realised how good it felt to be talking about her sister. She liked remembering her. It felt important. ‘I’m glad to have you to talk to,’ she said.

Susie smiled and lifted her glass. ‘To Bea,’ she said.

Lizzie tapped her glass against Susie’s. ‘To Bea.’

After that evening, something in Lizzie changed. It was a small change, nothing major but a change nonetheless. She felt lighter in her being somehow, as if someone was there to support her. She had someone to turn to.

So the plans for the book group moved on apace. Lizzie realised that when Susie said she would do something, she meant it. Lizzie found this reassuring too. She wasn’t given the chance to let self-doubt take hold. They put up posters inviting people to pop into the bookshop to buy a copy of the book and receive a voucher for a discounted coffee. It worked a treat and Lizzie had one or two interested customers calling in every day.

One of them was a blousy fifty-something lady with an impressive bosom and a penchant for leopard print. She introduced herself as Carol and confided that, ‘I’m more of a Jackie Collins sort of girl but if it gets me out of the house away from my couch-potato husband, I’ll give anything a go!’ she had declared, slapping the book on the counter.

Her declaration was met with wrinkled-nosed disdain by the serious, moley looking man behind her in the queue. After Carol had gone, he made his way forwards to pay and addressed Lizzie as one might address the UN.

‘I hope that we’ll be able to explore some more heavyweight material?’ he said sniffily. ‘The Russian novels perhaps?’

Lizzie felt a little out of her depth but did her best to reassure him. ‘We’re going to let each member have a chance to choose.’

The man nodded and seemed satisfied. ‘I’m Brian by the way.’

By the day of the first book group meeting, Lizzie was experiencing a mixture of nerves and excitement. She had read the book again, done some research, made some notes, and felt as ready as she could be. Susie had sorted the refreshments and there promised to be eight people attending that evening. Susie had told her that Ben was planning to come along and Lizzie had been surprised. She hadn’t thought it would be his scene. Susie had obviously picked up on her reaction.

‘He loves that book. I think he sort of thinks he owns it really so he probably wants to come along to make sure no one’s disrespectful,’ Susie joked.

Lizzie couldn’t say she was delighted at the prospect but he couldn’t be all bad if he shared favourites with her sister.