me, eh sis? Obviously if I get the chance to come back and haunt you I shall, but there are no guarantees so pen and paper it is. I’ve been thinking for a long time about how I can help you, Lizzie Lou, and to be honest I think my dying is going to be the best thing that ever happens to you.
That probably sounds harsh so I shall do my best to explain. When you were born, I hated you – absolutely loathed the sight, sound and smell of you (particularly the smell). I know that’s normal for siblings and I was only four at the time so don’t feel the need to apologise. You were very annoying and turned my world upside down. I had gone from being, ‘Honey Bea’, the apple of everyone’s eye to, ‘Busy Lizzie’s’ sister and I was not impressed.
I remember one particular day when I had set up my dolls ready for a tea party. I’d written tiny invitations and laid out my dinky porcelain tea set with its pink polka dot design and matching satin napkins. You know me – I like everything just-so. It looked perfect until you bowled in, all chubby legs and cute dimples and upset the whole thing onto the floor. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry before or since, particularly as you were oblivious to the carnage around you. When Mum came in, all she was most worried about was the mess (you know what she’s like) and she didn’t even tell you off. I know you were a baby but I felt as if a great injustice had been done that day and I hated you with every fibre of my being.
It was also the day that Uncle Lawrence came to visit and I was very excited. Do you remember when he did his Donald Duck impressions? We loved him, although I know Mum was always irritated by the way he drifted in and out of our lives. Anyway, I loathed having to share him with you and I got into trouble because I tried to push in front of you when he came to the door. I got smacked for that and so by lunchtime, you were enemy number one.
After lunch, Mum took you upstairs for a change and I was going to have some precious time on my own with Uncle Lawrence. I went to fetch a book so that I could read to him and as I looked up from the hall, I could see you standing at the top of the stairs. I also noticed that Mum had left the stair-gate open. In that split second I could have cried out to warn you but something inside – my anger at having to share the world with you – prevented me I guess. I walked away. I found my book just as I heard the sound of you falling down the stairs. It was a strange sound, almost rhythmical and oddly unalarming. I can remember it so clearly, even now. The drama started when Mum screamed at the sight of you lying at the bottom of the stairs. I walked out of the playroom ready with my innocent face but as soon as I noticed that you weren’t moving, I felt sick. I hadn’t realised what might happen if you fell. I think I’d been watching too many Tom and Jerry cartoons, so I thought you’d bounce. I still remember it as one of the most frightening moments of my life and I can picture Uncle Lawrence and Mum standing over your motionless body, frozen with fear for a split second before they called an ambulance. As for me, it wasn’t so much the thought that I’d killed you (I thought I had) but more that at that second, seeing your tiny body lying still, I knew I had to take care of you until the day I died. I remember kneeling down next to you and vowing. ‘It’s okay, Lizzie. Bea is here. She will look after you forever.’
That’s what I tried to do throughout my life but my biggest regret is that I know you’re not happy, Lizzie, and I want, more than anything, for you to be as happy as I have been. And so, my dying wish is to try and show you how to be happy. You will find twelve letters in the envelope with this one. These contain the things I probably should have told you to do when I was alive but never quite had the courage. Yes, I know that sounds strange coming from me, fearless Bea. In truth Lizzie, I’m as scared as everyone else. I just chose not to show it but I really believe that I’m doing the right thing in leaving you these letters. I think it’s time to be honest and for you to face a past that has been locked away for too long.
But, and this is an important but, I don’t want you ripping them all open like presents on Christmas morning. You won’t be surprised to know that as soon as I knew I was dying, I decided to put all my affairs in order. Once I knew there was no hope, I didn’t see any point in hanging around upsetting everyone. I’ve put a month on each letter so that you can read them once a month for the next year. Everything I’m asking should be possible in that time. I like to think of them as my final wishes, my final wishes for you, lovely Lizzie.
You should know that it’s not going to be easy but I think it’s important for both of us. So this is your older sister bossing you from beyond the grave. Do as I ask or I will come and haunt you (and not in a good way – I’ll make sure I’m carrying my head under my arm or something).
There you have it, my darling sister. Do these things for me and I think you’ll find the real Lizzie Harris and learn to love her as I do.
All my love,
Bea xxx
Lizzie read the letter again and again, hearing her sister’s voice in her head and the painful truth in her words. She realised that she had finished her wine and, pouring herself another glass, made her way over to the sofa. She sat down and clutched the letter to her chest as great heaving sobs washed over her. ‘I miss you, Bea,’ she whispered. ‘I miss you so much.’
It was at this point that the enormity of her situation hit Lizzie. She had thought that the parcel would offer some sort of comfort, that it would be like having her sister back, but she saw now how naive she had been. Bea was gone. Her letters remained but that was all. Lizzie had to face her future alone and she wasn’t sure if she had the strength. She lay down on the sofa and closed her eyes. She felt so very tired.
It was dark when she woke a few hours later, roused by late-night revellers shouting in the street. She rolled to a seated position and rubbed her eyes before standing and moving towards the window. The letter, which she had been holding as she fell asleep, slipped to the floor and Lizzie snatched it up as she remembered its contents. She walked to the window and, clutching it to her chest, let out a deep sigh. On the one hand she felt that the letters might offer her guidance and comfort, as if Bea were still there helping her, showing her the way. On the other hand, she dreaded where they might lead her. She scanned the words again: ‘… it’s time to be honest and for you to face a past that has been locked away for too long.’ The mere mention of the past sent a chill through her. Surely the past was best left where it was? Lizzie was fine. Fine was good. Fine could last a lifetime. Then she thought about her sister’s other concern: ‘…my biggest regret is that I know you’re not happy, Lizzie.’ Lizzie thought about this. Was she happy? Was she truly happy? She brushed away the tears as she thought about the answer. She was lonely, she knew that, and now that Bea was gone, she was alone.
Closing the window Lizzie pulled the curtains before making her way over to the kitchen counter. She sifted through the pile of envelopes and found the first one. She carried it with her to the bedroom and placed it on her bedside table, ready for the morning. For the love of her sister and for the sake of herself, she would do her best to fulfil Bea’s wishes.
The Next Day
Lizzie slept fitfully that night. She had a troubling dream, in which she could hear Bea calling, but for some reason she couldn’t reach her. It was dark and foggy and she was alone on a heath. She could barely see her hand in front of her face but she kept walking towards Bea’s voice.
‘Lizzie? Can you hear me? Lizzie?’
Bea didn’t sound panicked or in distress but try as Lizzie might, she couldn’t find her sister. She woke at around six feeling clammy and exhausted. Sitting
