Lottie eyed him suspiciously. ‘It’s in her bedroom. If you give me five minutes, I’ll come up with you.’
‘I can go,’ he said.
‘Actually, I’ve not been in her room since …’
Lottie felt foolish, but ever since Nana had died, she couldn’t bring herself to go into her bedroom. It felt like she was intruding, which was silly, but it was the thought of all her things still being there and her not.
‘I understand. Of course we can go together.’ He gave her arm a squeeze. She loved her brother and she knew he loved her too. They had been through a lot and had always been there for each other. Now that Nana had gone, he was the one person she knew she could rely on.
Lottie followed Zach upstairs and they paused outside Nana’s bedroom door. ‘You ready?’ he asked, and Lottie nodded. She took a moment to compose herself; it was just a bedroom, there was nothing to fear, and yet all the times she’d thought about going in she’d found a good reason not to. Zach gave her a reassuring smile and opened the door. It was dark and he flicked on the light switch. They peered inside. This was the biggest bedroom: the walls were papered with tiny pink flowers dotted abouton a fresh white background, and there was a large antique sleigh bed in the middle of the far wall, a painted blanket box at its foot. The bed covers were ruffled as if Nana had just got up and was maybe pottering about the kitchen in her dressing gown.
Whilst Lottie viewed the room from the safety of the doorway, Zach strode over to the dressing table. Lottie reckoned Nana was one of the few people still to have one and actually use it. A walnut jewellery box sat on top with a bottle of Samsara next to it – Nana’s favourite perfume. Zach opened a drawer and chuckled. He held up four pots of Nivea face cream.
‘Do you think she was expecting a siege?’
‘More likely they were on two for one,’ said Lottie. Nana loved a bargain.
Zach started opening and closing the drawers either side of the dressing table. Lottie didn’t like the sensation it gave her. She felt like a grave robber. These were Nana’s things – her private things.
She stepped into the room. ‘Stop.’
Zach saw her expression and paused. ‘I know this is tough, but someone needs to go through everything. And when we finally find a buyer we’ll need to get the whole place emptied.’
Lottie felt like crying. This was all horrid. The world, and most notably her family, moved on regardless, and it shocked her. The sad thing was that she knew Zach was right – and after Christmas she’d be left to sort it all out on her own. She should be seizing the opportunity for some help. Zach went back to checking the drawers.
What would Nana say? ‘You’ve got a backbone – so let’s see it.’ Lottie straightened her shoulders. ‘Will you give me a hand with these bed covers?’ She marched over andbegan taking off the pillowcases. She should have stripped the bed weeks ago.
‘Yeah,’ he said, sounding distracted. ‘Looks like Nana did her Christmas cards early.’ Zach held up a wodge of envelopes. He joined Lottie at the bed and flopped down on it, sorting through the pile. ‘Here you go,’ he said, handing her an envelope with her name on.
Lottie took the envelope and studied the handwriting. Nana’s tiny perfect lettering stared back at her. It was the sort of writing that people often commented on – neat and uniform, but with a distinct style, very like Nana herself.
Zach found his envelope and ripped it open. He didn’t look at the front of the card, which Lottie knew Nana would have carefully chosen. He read the inside and she saw him jolt like he’d driven over a speed bump too fast.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
Zach looked at his sister. ‘You’d better open yours.’
Chapter Seven
Lottie stared at the front of the pretty card for a moment before she opened it. She was surprised to see the inside cover filled with Nana’s writing.
My dear, dear Lottie,
There is no easy way to tell you this, hence I have taken the coward’s approach and decided to write it in this card. I am sorry to tell you that I don’t have long left to live. I have cancer and the doctors have told me that I have about three months. That is very hard for me to write and would be even harder for me to say to your face.
I don’t want to dwell on my health. I can’t stand it when old people constantly go on about what’s wrong with them. If I get like that you have my permission to shoot me.
I have loved having you home for the last few weeks but I don’t want to be a burden to you, so when the time comes I will be going into a hospice – please don’t challenge me on this. I have my pride.
There is also something I want you to do for me – talk to Joe Broomfield. Life isn’t easy and we make thedecisions we do with the best of our knowledge and with the best of intentions, but keeping secrets is like a cancer and if you don’t sort it out it will eat away at you.
I intend to make this Christmas a very special one. Here’s to a happy family Christmas and a prosperous New Year for us all.
With love,
Nana
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