Maybe that accounted for some of her dare-devilishness. Maybe it was something else. I suppose we’ll never know so I’ve decided to put it down to Dad and his weather stories.
I’m having to rush the end of this because some brave person’s heading into town and it’s the only chance to get it posted for the next few days.
Love,
Iris
One Year Anniversary
Dear Iris,
I suspect our letters will cross as I think we’ll both be putting pen to paper today.
It’s a year since Ivy died.
I prefer to use those words rather than passed away or a euphemism such as left our lives because that doesn’t seem correct. She died. It was quick and painless and she died.
Today in Puffin Bay the weather is glorious. The sun is out although it isn’t warm. The wind has a chill factor of minus something, although I know it’ll be colder where you are. The sea isn’t as wild as it can be and the daffodils, despite the wind, are out and standing tall. We’re forecast a mild spring, which’ll please everyone. It means the tourists will be out sooner, so the town will have earlier bookings and the pubs and restaurants will be busier earlier, which is good for people’s pockets and their moods.
I’m heading up to Ivy’s grave today. I don’t think for one minute I’ll be doing that on my own. Finn and Roe haven’t forgotten, although they haven’t said anything. I’ve seen the looks they throw each other when they’re trying to work out if I’m okay or not. I am okay. I haven’t told them that in those words because then I want to ask how I can be okay when Ivy’s not here, but I am. She wouldn’t want anyone mourning her like a Victorian widow, she’d want something crazy done in her memory, not for anyone’s life to stop still and wither.
After I’ve been to her grave, I’m starting work on a completely new project. Your last letter gave me the idea for it and I kind of need to check some things out with you – so it would be good to talk when you’ve got time and reception. I’verun the idea past my agent and the publisher I think would be interested in this and it’s a goer with them, so today’s the first day I’ll be dabbling in it.
I’m still working on the next book in the Hector series – that’s the one that’s being made for TV currently. The casting’s done now and I’ve been sent the first script for my approval, which doesn’t mean much because if I do suggest any changes, the chances are they’ll have a reason why they can’t change it. Those were my agent’s words.
Tonight there’s a gathering at the Puffin Inn. There was the night Ivy died, the storm was battering and when that happens, it’s usual for a lot of the town’s residents to come together there for warmth and to know that everyone's okay. It isn't official, as in there’s nothing on social media or anything written, but we all know we’re coming together to remember her. There will be food and drink and singing. The male voice choir have an unofficial rehearsal but there’s a reason they chose tonight.
I’ll be there, however much I don’t want to go.
I’m off to her grave now. I’ll take some pictures to send you.
I saved writing goodbye until after the rest of the day. I went to Ivy’s grave. There were already flowers there, mainly daffodils and someone had planted some ivy. Finn and Roe turned up just after I got there and we talked. Finn and Ruby had the first scan for the baby yesterday, so he showed us the pictures although it looks like a jelly blob right now. Finn’s prouder than a peacock with two tails though which is kinda sweet. Roe’s still trying to get Freya to move in with him, but she’s definitely wavering on that.
We didn’t really talk about Ivy while we were there. It was a catch up, even though we see each other most days. But there wasn’t any piss-taking or winding up, so it was probably the realist conversation we’ll have with each other this year.
It was quiet up there. The wind was wild and the seagulls were yelling, but there was no church service going on today, although it was open. I did go inside before my brothers got there and looked around. No one was about, but someone had left a daffodil at the front.
I don’t know who that would’ve been.
This afternoon I stayed at the Puffin Inn with Amelie and Clover and started to write on the new project. I’m focusing on just that for one day each week. The outline’s already done – I forgot to mention that earlier.
Tonight the pub was packed. Amelie put a buffet on – hot food, lasagne and a fish stew and some cold bits. We sang. I played guitar. Her dog spent the night sat on my feet, which was great because I didn’t have to get up to go to the bar all evening, but somehow still picked up the tab for my brothers.
I thought of you and I wished you were with us. Maybe next year you will be.
I’ll update you on other things another time.
Love,
Gully
Dear Iris,
I haven’t received your letter yet, but I know from your social media you’re in Alaska now. I’ve sent this to the address of the production company to forward onto you so hopefully you’ll have it soon.
Spring’s properly started here now. Earlier than last year, or maybe that’s because last year everything felt grey. I’ve had a couple of days where I’ve been able to sit outside for an hour and write, mainly on this new project, which isn’t feeling new anymore. It turns out I’m pretty okay at writing children’sstories – the first seven are now with the publisher and they’ve already commissioned an illustrator. As it is with these things, I don’t get much of a say, but the person they’ve gone with is someone I’ve met before and get on well with, so it’s probably who I’d have chosen.
I’ve emailed one of the stories to you to have a read through and see what you think. The proceeds will go to the charity we talked about when we called, the adventure scheme for children who are seriously or terminally ill. I have a meeting with the trustees in London around it in a couple of weeks so you’ll be receiving documents via email too.
