The Beach Book Bundle: 3 Novels for Summer Reading: Breathing Lessons, The Alphabet Sisters, Firefly Summer (80 page)

“I just want her back, Lola.”

“We all want her back, darling. All of us.”

Bett cried then as if it was the first time since Anna died, until her body hurt from it. Lola held her tight until it passed, until Bett’s breathing calmed, the shaking stopped. She spoke again, her head buried against Lola’s chest, her face wet with tears. “I’m so sorry, Lola.”

“It’s all right.” She kissed Bett’s forehead, tucked a lock of hair behind one of her ears.

“I would never have stopped talking to you.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have let you.”

“And I won’t tell Dad or Mum or Carrie. It’s not for me to tell them any of this.”

“You can if you want to. It’s up to you. I can’t stop you.”

“What good would it do?” Bett hesitated. “Are you going to write back to Edward’s sister?”

Lola shook her head. “There’s no point. I think it’s best that I don’t.”

“But is it wrong for me to have a secret from the rest of my family? That you and I know, and the others don’t?”

“A family without secrets is a very boring family. And I don’t think we want to be a boring family, do we?”

Bett shook her head.

“Come here to me.” She took Bett’s face between her two hands. “I’m sorry I hurt you, too. Because you are very precious to me. I want you to know that. And I’m glad you know. I’m glad it’s you who found out.”

Bett mirrored the action, her hands against Lola’s soft, powdered skin. “I’m glad it was me, too.” She stared at the older woman’s face, the blush, the lipstick. “But you’ve been very bold, you know that.”

“Very bold, yes. But what else am I?”

“You’re my darling.”

“That’s right. Now go to bed, Bett.”

“No.”

“You’re disobeying me?”

“Yes. I want you to talk to me about it. I want to hear everything. About what it was like for you. How you found the first guesthouse to manage.”

“It was an ad in the newspaper.”

“How you managed to buy that first one.”

“I saved. I saved and scrimped until I had enough.”

“And were you ever frightened? Did you ever think you’d done the wrong thing?”

“Many times. I cried myself to sleep many nights. But I kept telling myself that it could only get better. That it was better than what I’d had before. And that I would get through, for Jim’s sake and for my sake, too.”

“But even though you were scared and it was hard and there were bad times, it worked out in the end for you, didn’t it?”

“In most ways, yes.”

“I need to hear that, Lola. I need to hear that things can be bad but they can also get better.”

“I promise you.”

“You never saw your parents again, did you?”

“I didn’t, no. I wrote for a while, but then it got harder to make it up, to explain why I never mentioned Edward. So I wrote less often, until—”

“You lost contact.”

“It wasn’t unusual in those days. Letters took a long time to arrive. People didn’t expect to see their sons or daughters again after they went to Australia.”

“Did you miss them?”

“To begin with. But things were different back then. We didn’t expect to be close to our parents.” They exchanged a look.

Bett sat on the bed beside Lola’s armchair, picked up her hand, and started turning the ring. “This isn’t from Edward, either, is it?”

“No. I bought it for myself.”

“I want to hear where. I want to know why you bought that particular one.”

“Why do you want to know all that?”

“I just do. I want to hear all your stories. The real ones.”

Lola smiled. “You sounded just like your niece then, do you know that? Can I get my gin and tonic first?”

“Will you get me one as well?”

“At last. A drinking partner. I’ve been waiting for the day. Would you like ice? Lemon?”

“Yes, please.”

Lola was nearly at the door when she turned. “It’s going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

“I hope so,” Bett said.

“Shall I fetch the whole bottle?”

Bett smiled at her grandmother. “I think you may as well.”

Epilogue

A
nna’s grave was on the high side of the cemetery, overlooking a sweep of vineyards curving in lines along the contours of the hills, tracing the edge of the dam. It was a cool, crisp May day, the sky blue and gray, the air fresh. They parked their cars at the bottom of the hill, walked up past the other graves, gravel and fallen gum leaves crunching under their feet. They had been preparing for two days, working from the detailed list. Everything they needed was now packed neatly into two baskets.

Glenn, Matthew, and Jim carried the chairs, arranging them around the gravestone, looking out over the hills. Geraldine and Bett laid the fold-up table with a linen tablecloth, champagne glasses, and the plates of food. “And orange juice for Ellen. Did we bring the orange juice?”

Ellen held it up. “It’s here, Lola.”

“Good girl.”

Once everything was organized, Lola stood up. “Now, we have to do exactly as she says. Just a moment, I can’t read my own writing. Oh, well done, Anna. What a perfect way to begin.” Leaning on her stick, she started reading aloud from a piece of paper, written in her own hand. Anna had dictated the words to her three weeks before she died.

“ ‘First of all, pour champagne and orange juice and drink a toast to each other and to me.’ The champagne is a gift from Richard, by the way. The finest French, he told me.” Richard wrote to Lola every month or so. He was still at the newspaper in London, but he’d started working on the novel again, he’d told her. Lola shook her head, laughing softly. “Do you know Anna even dictated stage directions? ‘You are all to lift your glasses into the air—joyfully.’ Not too joyfully, everyone, or you’ll spill it.”

Anna had left exact instructions on how they were to mark the first anniversary of her death. Carrie had laughed as she read through it several days before. It was like a mini play, filled with stage directions, a cast list (“my family”), what props they’d need, and the setting: her graveside at lunchtime.

“Is this joyful?” Ellen asked, moving her glass of juice vigorously from side to side.

“I’d say that’s more enthusiastic than joyful,” Bett said, stepping out of the way as drops of juice flew through the air. “Slow it down a little. That’s it, Ellie, perfect.” She turned in time to see Carrie juggling her baby daughter on one hip, a bottle in one hand, a glass in the other. “Carrie, are you okay there? Do you want me to take her?”

She pulled a face. “Would you, Bett? Just for a second? Until I grow another arm?”

Bett took her five-month-old niece, moving her head back as a little hand made a grab for one of her earrings. She’d been christened Delia Anna three months earlier. “Her name had to start with the letter D, didn’t it?” Carrie had said. “We had A for Anna, B for Bett, C for Carrie and then a jump to E for Ellen. This way she’s a bridge between us. She joins us all up again.”

“Ready, everyone? You all have your glasses?” Lola called out the toast. “To us and to Anna.”

“To us and to Anna,” they echoed. The clinking of glasses was loud in the clear air.

“And now to the food,” Lola said gloomily. They all stared down at the array of dishes on the table. No one moved.

“It’s a bit hard to know where to start, isn’t it?” Jim said.

“I just wish I hadn’t been pregnant when Anna asked me what my favorite food was,” Carrie said, looking balefully at her plate piled high with sardines.

“I certainly wouldn’t have said mashed potatoes if I’d known what she was up to,” Geraldine said, looking just as bleakly at the large bowl. “Bett, will you share your chocolate pudding?”

“Only when you’ve finished your potatoes. You know the rules, Mum. No dessert until your plate is clean.”

Jim squeezed Geraldine’s hand. “You can have some of my cake, love.”

Glenn took a tiny spoonful of Beluga caviar and said nothing. Ellen was also perfectly happy with her plate of doughnuts. Matthew was already halfway through his ham and pineapple pizza.

“Are we allowed to top up the glasses, Lola?” Glenn asked. Lola checked Anna’s instructions. “She didn’t say, but as the matriarch, I’ll make the decision. Of course you can. Have as much as you like.”

“Shall I give Mum a glass of champagne?” Ellen asked. “She liked champagne, Dad, didn’t she?”

“She sure did.” He poured a glass and they watched as Ellen balanced it on the gravestone.

“I was talking to her last night,” Ellen said as she came back and settled herself on her father’s knee. “I asked her how things were and told her about the flight from Singapore and how Dad and I are going to Disneyland next week.”

“And did she say anything back?” Bett asked, keeping her tone light.

Ellen gave her a pitying look. “No, of course not. I say her bits for her. Like when we do plays at school, and I play more than one part. So I told Mum that we were going to Disneyland and she said, ‘That’s wonderful, Ellen.’ ” Ellen lowered her voice and for a minute sounded very like Anna. “ ‘Have lots of fun, won’t you? But don’t eat too much ice cream before you go on the rides or you’ll be sick.’ ”

Lola peered up into the sky. The blue was nearly gone, darker clouds coming in their direction. “I think we should move on to the entertainment section of the afternoon. You’ve all been rehearsing, I hope? Bett, we’ll start with you.”

Bett stood up and took a sheet of lyrics from her bag, remembering the moment she had unknowingly chosen her song. She had been sitting beside Anna’s bed, answering her soft-voiced questions about her days in London, when, midway, Anna had stopped her and said, “Name a song, Bett, quick. The first one that comes to mind.”

“ ‘London Calling’ by The Clash,” Bett had answered, surprised. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Go on, you were telling me about your boss Karl and the punk bands …”

Bett finished her song and took a bow. Carrie was next, with a stirring version of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” Anna had asked her to name a song while she was searching through the pile of magazines on Anna’s bedside. Ellen sang “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree.” Lola, Bett, and Carrie joined in on the chorus. Geraldine followed her with “Sadie the Cleaning Lady.” She’d been washing the windows in Anna’s room. Glenn had been at the airport when Anna phoned and asked him. He did a very enthusiastic version of “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” They all laughed as Jim sang “Bob the Builder.” He had been looking out at the house being built on the hill opposite the motel when Anna asked him. Lola sang “Lola”—she and Anna had been reminiscing about the eightieth birthday party. Matthew sang “Baa Baa Black Sheep,” doing his best through everyone’s teasing. “I’d just come from work when I visited her. What did you expect me to say? Nellie the Elephant?”

Lola applauded. “Beautiful, everyone. You should be proud of yourselves. And now, another message for all of us.” She unfolded the last piece of paper and started reading, her voice strong and clear in the afternoon air.

To my darling family,

If it is possible for me to be watching you today, I promise you I will be. If you notice some champagne missing from your glasses, that will be me who has taken it, too. This note won’t be the Gettysburg Address, and I can’t think of anything as memorable as General MacArthur’s “I shall return.” All I want to say is that I love you all very much, and thank you for all you did for me and for my beautiful Ellen, during my life. I have been very, very lucky. Thank you for being so obedient today and don’t worry, I’m not going to make you come back here year after year. It’s up to each of you how you remember me from now on, but please keep eating your favorite things, drinking champagne, talking to one another, and singing good and bad songs, even if I’m not there to boss you around.

With all my love,

Anna

Lola held up her glass. “Another toast, I think. Just to Anna.”

“Just to Anna,” they all echoed.

E
verything was packed up into the baskets again and the chairs folded by the time the first spatters of rain started falling. Geraldine, Jim, Glenn, Carrie, and Matthew walked ahead, Delia in Matthew’s arms. Behind them, a little more slowly, came Lola, Bett, and Ellen.

“I miss my mum every single day,” Ellen said.

Bett squeezed her hand. “I do, too, Ellie.”

They reached the bottom of the hill and started walking to the wrought-iron gate at the entrance.

“What would Mum have done if we hadn’t been obedient today?” Ellen asked as they reached it.

“Haunt us, probably,” Lola said.

“What’s haunt?”

“It’s when someone keeps appearing all the time to keep an eye on you, making sure you’re okay,” Lola explained.

“Like Daniel does with Bett, you mean?” Ellen said.

Lola smiled at Bett. “A bit like that.”

Arm in arm, the three of them walked back to the carpark where Daniel was waiting for them.

ONE YEAR LATER

Bett looked up as the screen door snapped shut. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine,” Daniel said. “She just rang to say they’re running a bit late. Mum’s insisting on wearing something pink, apparently, and Christine said she couldn’t decide between the dark pink or the light pink. They’ll be here soon, though.”

“That’s great. There’s no rush, anyway.” It wasn’t a formal lunch, just a barbecue and some salads. Everything was ready to go, the barbecue coals heating, the table already set in the garden. They’d been lucky with the weather, blue and clear, with no sign of the rain they’d had the previous year. It was just as well. It would have been very crowded in their small living room. Bett checked the time. There was still an hour before Ellen was going to ring from Singapore. Everyone was sure to be there by then. Bett had promised Ellen, and Glenn, that she would be able to say hello to them all, even if she wasn’t with them on the actual date of Anna’s second anniversary.

Two years on, Bett had realized that it wasn’t the date that made them think of Anna, in any case. Thoughts of her flowed freely between all of them, no matter where they were or when it was. There were memories and conversations that made them sad, memories that made them laugh. It helped them all when Ellen came to stay, or when they went to visit her and Glenn in Singapore. Ellen was so like Anna physically it still surprised them to see her each time, yet they could see her own personality getting stronger. Sometimes they would share their thoughts of Anna with her or with one another. Other times the memories were more personal, private. It was as Lola had said. Anna’s life and Anna’s death had become a part of them all.

Bett shifted up a little so Daniel could sit on the high-backed swing seat beside her. They both put their feet up on the veranda rail. Daniel went back to the book he’d been reading when the phone had rung. She returned to the last few pages of hers.

They had moved into this house together nearly a year before. It was a stone cottage in the hills behind the motel, right on the northern edge of Clare. The town was on one side, gum trees, bare paddocks, and vineyards on the other. The intention had been to renovate the house themselves, but they’d been rapidly losing interest. Reading was much more fun than scraping paint, they’d discovered.

“Bett?”

“Mmm.”

“What about Fred?”

Bett gave it some thought. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Florence?”

“No.”

“Flossy?”

“If we have a pony instead of a baby, sure.” She turned. “Daniel, the name doesn’t really have to start with an F.”

“Yes, it does. I love the idea of it.” He put down the battered copy of
1001 Names for Your Baby.
“And we have to get in quick, before Carrie and Matthew have another one, and we get stuck with G.”

Bett laughed. “Can we get the wedding out of the way before we worry about the baby’s name? I’m not even pregnant.”

“Not for want of trying. Have we got a few minutes now to give it another go, before the others arrive?”

“No, we haven’t. Anyway, what if we can’t have children?”

“Then we’ll get lots of pets and treat them like our children.”

She smiled and went back to her book. She was on the second to last page when he spoke again.

“Bett, how do you feel about having eleven children? Or eleven pets?”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve just worked it out mathematically. If you and Carrie spend the next eleven years having a baby a year, you and I will end up with Z. Isn’t that great? I’ve always liked the name Zelda, or Zephaniah if it’s a boy. Or we could try for quadruplets. That would speed it up a bit. But maybe that’s asking a bit much. What about going as far as Yvonne?”

“That’s a lovely offer, Dan, but no, I don’t think so.” Bett stood up as Carrie and Matthew’s car turned off the main road and started up the dirt road to their cottage. She could already see Lola waving majestically from the backseat. Not far behind them she saw her parents’ car.

Daniel stood beside her, his arm across her back. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. “Xanthes?”

She shook her head.

He lowered his voice even more. “Wilhelmina?”

She started to laugh. “No, Dan.”

“Violet? Ursula? Thomasina? Please, Bett, can’t we have a Thomasina? You’d grow to love her, I know you would. And Saxon. And Rhiannon. As for Quincy, and Peony …”

She turned in his arms. “All this time we’ve known each other and I never realized you knew your alphabet backward.”

“I can juggle a bit, too. I could teach the children. We could go on the road, pick up where the Alphabet Sisters left off. All of us juggling together. Little Olaf, and Nero, and Magenta. Leopold. Klaus …”

Carrie and Matthew’s car came to a halt at the end of their garden.

Bett looked up at Daniel and smiled. “Have you finished?”

“Nearly,” he said, a sparkle in his eye. “Jefferson. Indigo …”

She was laughing again as she walked down the steps to greet her family.