Present day
Lilly hoped that everyone had received the messages she’d sent and that they were going to arrive promptly. It felt easier to say it to the group rather than repeat her plans to individuals over and over, less galling, less emotionally draining. She glanced at her watch: plenty of time.
‘Lilly?’
‘Yes, Apollo?’
She braced herself; the questions he liked to throw at her on their morning walk to school were as random as they were varied. It could be anything from something dinosaur-related to how many frogs were there in the world, which she could only answer with: a lot!
‘Are you my nan?’
‘Oh!’ It was one of those questions that had the power to floor her.
Something that curiously hadn’t properly occurred to her until middle age, that without becoming a mother, she was also denied a shot at being a granny.
In some ways, this caused her more distress.
She hadn’t backed herself to be a mother, even if, mechanically, it had been possible, largely on account of the fact that she hadn’t had her own mum around for long enough to learn from, but grannyhood?
It seemed to come with more of the fun and less of the responsibility, and was something she felt she could have picked up quite easily!
‘I am not, but maybe we should find out what it is that nans do, and I would quite happily do those things, if it’s okay with Mummy for me to assume some of those responsibilities!
’ This she trotted out, ignoring the stab in her heart at the prospect of losing out when he and Clodagh moved away, another thought that almost floored her.
‘’Kay.’ Apollo stared at her as if without the first clue what she was talking about. ‘Can you take my—’
‘Yes, of course.’ She cut him short as he handed her the rather large and unwieldy branch of a tree that had been today’s find, thinking that wherever she moved next, with a couple of apartments in Pimlico under consideration, they would need greater storage or space to accommodate what was turning into a small lumber yard in her hallway.
It made her smile all the way home, walking at an amble in her bright kimono and with an array of bangles on her wrist. She waved with enthusiasm to black-cat-on-wheelie-bin-lid owner, and he waved back.
It was a curious thing that since she had read the letters her parents exchanged, finished her painting and hung it on the wall, and following her visit to Derek Manners, Lilly’s thoughts had settled.
Her mind was no longer a jumble of frantic and intrusive thoughts, often dark memories, that left her riven with regret.
Anguish over the loss of her dad, stoking the pain in her gut at the way her mum had walked out, and of course, Wilkie and the rather cruel legacy his actions had bestowed upon her.
What was it Alfie had said: . . . people change, things change, you just have to figure out how to change with it! Give life a chance!
‘Maybe you’re right, Mr Portland,’ she spoke quietly to herself. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
It was as if she had found some kind of peace, understanding that her dad would have had his reasons for not doing more to allow her and Jeannie to form a deeper bond.
And that her mum, Wilkie too, were only human.
Flawed, imperfect, troubled, but human. It was a good lesson, understanding that it was possible to love these people in spite of their flaws, important to forgive them too, and most important of all, to let them go . . .
The gallery was ticking over and she considered for the first time giving it up, knowing she could finally, finally, let Bertie go too, knowing she had done her very best for the friend she had so loved, continuing his legacy; but the truth was she was tired.
Christopher, Bertie’s brother, the man who had played in the orchestra with her dad, had passed away nearly a decade ago, but he had a daughter, a midwife; Tanzie, who lived in Kent and who had two kids of her own.
Lilly didn’t know the woman, but they swapped Christmas cards and had met a couple of times.
It felt only right to pass it on to her, gifting it in the way dear Bertie had to her.
She’d get advice from Denzel Bashington on the best way to make the approach and handle the transfer.
It would then be Tanzie’s to keep or sell, but she hoped it would be as life-changing for the young woman as it had been for her.
It was as she put her key in the door that Clodagh came down the stairs.
‘How did he go in?’ she asked, as she stuffed her apron into her tote bag, ready for her later shift at the coffee shop.
‘Wonderfully, as usual. May I present today’s offering!’ Lilly lifted the large and unwieldy branch, which still had leaves attached.
‘Oh God, Lilly! It’s huge!’ Clodagh laughed, gripping the banister rail for support as she chuckled. ‘You can’t keep all of his sticks! You’d have to move out – even if you weren’t being forced to move out, there’s no room for you and all of his finds!’
‘He asked me today if I was his nan. Didn’t know what to say but thought it was a very sweet thing to say to an old woman like me.’
‘First, you are not old. You know you are not old!’
‘True, I do know this.’ Lilly smiled, remembering the woman only six years her senior with the walking frame.
‘And second, yes, yes, you are his nan, absolutely, one hundred per cent. And he can call you Nan if wants to and if you don’t mind?’
‘Mind?’ It was, Lilly thought, the most incredible privilege. She tried to respond, but couldn’t quite; the lump of emotion in her throat made it impossible. ‘Uh-huh,’ she managed.
‘I got your text: you never need to ask me twice if I fancy a coffee, you know this!’
‘Great!’ Lilly smiled as the front door buzzer went and none other than Joshua Vaughan came loping up the communal stairs. She watched the way Clodagh tucked her hair behind her ears, as if wanting to look her best.
‘There you are. Come on in.’
He looked behind as if confirming it was he that Lilly was talking to with such civility.
‘Morning, Miss Cooper, Miss Newman.’ He beamed at Clodagh, as if he had forgotten momentarily that he was the enemy.
Albeit one that Lilly was, in spite of his questionable associations, rather fond of.
‘You want me to come in?’ He pointed at Lilly’s front door, double-checking.
No doubt, like her, remembering the time she forced him to converse through the letterbox.
‘Yes, I think you’ll find it’s still my flat for the time being, Mr Vaughan, and I am inviting you in. We’re not to be turfed out just yet.’ She narrowed her eyes at him.
He swallowed and nodded, before following Clodagh into Lilly’s kitchen.
‘Clodagh, could you pop the kettle on?’
‘’Course!’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Joshua offered most gallantly.
It made Lilly smile as she sat in the window in the lounge, looking out at the view, her view.
It was strange not to feel the desire to go and paint it.
As if she’d completed a puzzle, finished a collection, read the final chapter, won.
She stared now at the painting of her mum by the river that hung in pride of place, feeling closer to her than she ever had.
As if she understood her a little more, a woman who had been judged, corralled, and who without support had struggled, until she had found love with the man who repaired TVs and lived in a flat on the Tottenham Court Road.
What was it her nan had said? Brazen, morally slack.
Awful, awful words that Lilly knew had more than likely also been applied to her by the self-righteous medics who had done little to help or support her when she had needed them most. Words that had made her doubt her own self-worth, her own feelings, even her ability to love, but not any more!
This was a new era, one where Lilly was not going to be defined by her past or the judgement of others. It was her time to start living!
‘I think we were probably more alike than I thought, Mum, and I shall forever regret not reaching out to you, not letting you in, not trying harder to understand and taking Dad’s side without question.
I understand now that there should have been no side to take.
’ She spoke to the woman with the red, red lipstick whose letters had given her the insight she had craved, the woman who had loved her!
The sound of Clodagh and Joshua laughing in the kitchen warmed her heart. She had a good feeling about the two of them. The young man who she was confident would show up; after all, Kennington wasn’t so very far away.
She rose to answer the knock at the door, and there he stood. The two stared at each other for a beat or two. The quiet was far from uncomfortable. It was instead as if a current of understanding ran through them, a long, lingering look that spoke of connection and attraction.
It was knowing.
It was forgiveness.
It was hope.
‘Alfie . . .’ No more than a whisper, yet to say his name was lovely, freeing and exciting all at once.
‘Thank you for coming over.’ It was so wonderful to see him.
She felt the girlish thrill of it, yet at the same time was more than a little worried about all the things she had said to him and the way she had said them.
Her truths, no doubt, yet still rather harshly delivered.
‘Miss Cooper. I was surprised to hear from you, delighted! But surprised.’ He gave a slow smile, seemingly very happy to see her too. She felt some of her anxiety fade.
‘Come in, come in!’ She stood back to allow him access, aware of the closeness of him, the delightful feeling as her body rippled in response to the proximity.
A visceral reaction to the man, the scent of him, the sound of him .
. . ‘Please come in.’ She guided him into the lounge, where he, of course, walked straight to the window.
‘Wow! I did not expect that!’ He shook his head at the wonder of it.
‘It’s really something, isn’t it?’ Her smile bittersweet, at the fact that there it was, the river. Old Mother Thames.