if I were you but I think that you should try. I am hoping that you now have people you can call on for support to help you face this.
So, go and see Mum, Lizzie. Talk to her, really talk to her. Tell her about the hurt you’ve been holding onto for so long. Listen to what she has to say and make her listen to you too. The thing is, you two are probably more similar than you realise or want to admit.
I don’t think I helped your relationship either but as I’m not around to get in the way any more, (see how I help you out by dying?) I think you can start to be honest with one another. There will be anger and there will be tears but I love you both very much and if you trust me, you will give it a try.
You need each other. You just don’t realise it yet.
Love you,
Bea x
Lizzie put down the letter. Her hands were shaking and she realised that this was due to a furious surge of anger which was coursing through her body like a volcano erupting having lain dormant for so many years. Her mind was racing. She wasn’t angry with Bea so much although she dearly wished that she could talk to her and question if this really had to be done. Lizzie wasn’t a fool though. She had guessed that Bea’s wishes might take her in this direction at some stage; however she also knew that Bea had understood her hurt and deep-rooted disappointment. On the few occasions that Bea had suggested Lizzie return to Smallchurch, she had been treated to a rare flash of anger from her sister. Bea had never pushed it and Lizzie always thought that this was because she understood there were barriers that could not be crossed. Even when their father was dying, Bea hadn’t pushed her; quite the opposite in fact.
So Lizzie was surprised and a little hurt by this wish. There was too much history, too much time past, too much ill feeling for any good to come of it. She had no great desire to talk to her mother and she was pretty sure Stella would feel the same; in fact her reaction at Bea’s funeral was proof of this fact. She threw the letter to one side. She couldn’t deal with this now. She went downstairs to open the shop, her good mood dissolved and a weight of expectation sitting heavily on her shoulders.
***
The day passed slowly. Lizzie was quiet as she wondered what to do. Bea probably meant for her to discuss this with her new friend but Lizzie wasn’t sure if she was ready to delve into that area of her past. Opening up to discuss memories of someone you loved was one thing but when it related to someone you hated. Hate. Such a strong word. So definitive and final. I hate you. Nothing more to say. That’s how Lizzie felt; as if there was nothing more to say. Later that afternoon, her mobile rang. She fished it out of her back pocket and was surprised to see Joe’s caller ID. She considered letting him leave a message but this felt mean.
‘Hi, Joe,’ she said breezily.
‘It’s Sam,’ said Sam.
This threw Lizzie momentarily and she walked towards the office, glancing over at Mrs Nussbaum, who was restocking the greetings cards. ‘Hey Sam,’ she said adopting a friendly tone. ‘How are you?’
‘Don’t you want to see us again?’ he demanded.
Lizzie felt cornered. ‘Of course I do, Sam. I really enjoyed meeting you at the zoo.’
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