The Secrets Between Sisters. Annie Lyons
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