Beneath the Watchful Ginkgoes

She fought down a sob, and found the strength to carry on.

"We'd have tickle fights. He'd follow me everywhere, always wanting to know what his big sister was doing. My friends loved him. He was always... surrounded by girls who loved him. He was always surrounded by love."

Her lip quivered, and she scrubbed furiously at her face.

I sighed, and let her walk in silence for a while before I asked.

"What happened to him, Astrid?"

"His heart," she whispered. "It was... never very good. His medicines stopped working as well as they had, and... and everything started going wrong for him. He was eleven. He'd just turned eleven. He'd barely got to live..."

She stumbled to a halt and fought for control.

And I simply took her in my arms and held her.

"I miss him so much," she whispered at last. "There's a black hole inside me and it won't go away. I should have spent more time with him. But... but I got a job and... and..."

"Life happens, honey. He knew you loved him. Kids are smart that way. He sounds adorable."

She made a small noise and slumped in against me, and I held her and rubbed her back until she could stand unaided again.

And then I simply walked beside her, listening to her as she told me about him, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing through her tears.

And I walked beside her to the cemetery gates, and from there I walked beside her until she reached the market where she was working as a cashier.

I hugged her farewell.

"I'm generally there on Fridays," I said softly, staring up at her. "So she doesn't get lonely over the weekend. Come find me; we'll talk some more."

"Thank you for... being there," she said, not meeting my gaze.

"Take care of yourself, Astrid. It takes time, if it happens at all. See you around, maybe, I hope," I breathed.

V

Snow had fallen overnight - just a dusting, but it had softened the stones and rimed the plants' scruffy nakedness. The Cedars of Lebanon stood like two elderly kings, their sable mantles brushed with ermine and glittering jewels.

I exhaled; my breath created a small cloud. The air was still bitterly cold, and Astrid was huddled into a tattered military-surplus parka that was several sizes too large for her.

"Do you always bring her flowers?" she said, curious.

I glanced up at her, then down at the bouquet of bright, multicoloured hothouse blooms that I clutched in my hands.

"Yeah, I try to bring her something different each time so she doesn't get bored."

"You're really devoted to her."

"As in life, so too in death."

She blenched.

"You sound so... distant, when you say that, Becca."

"The best half of me is already gone. The rest... well, there's not much worth keeping around, is there."

"Don't say that," she said. She reached out and caught my arm so that she could lever me around to face her. "Don't... don't diminish yourself. I know your heart is broken. But... is that what Elizabeth would want you to be saying?"

A tiny spark of anger flared deep within me... then flickered out.

I sighed.

"No. No, you're right. She'd scold me for wallowing."

The corner of her lip twitched; a smile died before it could take root.

She turned away and stared at a raven who was pecking at something or other.

"David liked ravens," she said softly. "He always used to caw at them. There was one - an older one, I think, who was almost a friend. He'd sit on the other side of the window and caw back at David; Davey would laugh until he had a coughing fit."

"They're bright birds. I've heard people say that they make good companions. Very playful, but very mischievous as well."

I busied myself with removing the frozen remnants of Elizabeth's old bouquet; I placed the new flowers carefully into their cradle. I brushed the snow out of her name, but left that which crusted the top of her gravestone alone.

"You look all sparkly today, gorgeous," I told her. "You always did love the snow."

Astrid watched me from a respectful distance.

"I can go if you like," she offered. "So you can... chat."

"I know that she's dead."

The silence stretched out between us.

She shook her head.

"That's not what I..."

"I know I probably seem absolutely crackers. I know I'm... a wreck. I know that she's dead. I live and eat and breathe that reality every day. I know I'm not really talking to her. But... but it helps me... to pretend that... she's listening... like she used... to..."

My vision had blurred; my chest felt like a red hot piece of metal had been clamped across it. I gasped once, and then again...

And then her arms were around me.

"Oh, God, Rebecca... I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry! I should have just shut my fucking mouth and..."

I shook my head violently, furious with myself.

A breath. Another panting breath. The storm surge of grief, roaring onwards towards the horizon, carrying all the fresh wreckage along with it...

"No. No. This isn't on you. This is all me," I rasped. "I was too late. I was too late to see her before they put her under. I thought I had time. I thought I had enough time. But there's never enough time. So it's all my fault, and it's all on me. Not her, not you. All... me..."

I stood, and let her hold me as I breathed, as I reached the point of no longer feeling like I was about to throw up.

Then I shrugged my way free of her and wiped at my eyes. She tucked her hands into her pockets, then pulled one out again to brush a sleeve across her own face.

"Sorry," we both said. And I laughed - a humourless little "hah" that escaped before I could bite it back.

I couldn't bear the pain her eyes; I looked down at my feet and sighed.

"God, I could really use a glass of wine."

"I know," she said. "But... it's probably not the best idea, is it?"

"No. It's an absolutely terrible idea. Tea is a better idea. There's a cafe on the way back to the office. I'll... get something there. It will do."

"Can I... buy it for you?"

Her voice was soft, hesitant, as if she were scared of offending me.

I stared up at her.

"Please?" she added.

"Okay," I said, after I'd thought about it. "But only if you let me buy the cake that I'm going to feed you in return. I'm sorry. For snapping at you, I mean. You didn't deserve that. You've been nothing but lovely to me. Thank you for... for always being there, no matter what."

"Apology accepted," she said. "I'm... glad I get to be the one who's here for you. Just like you always are for me," she added softly.

She linked arms with me, and I was unspeakably grateful for the warmth of her hip and thigh against me as I stared down at what had once been all my hopes and dreams.

VI

"Oh Christ almighty, it's cold," I grumbled.

We took twenty steps; the only noise the soft sound of my breath and the crisp crunch of the fresh snow.

Fresh flakes dotted her woollen hood and scarf and the shoulders of her unflattering and tatty parka. She had a dancer's figure, and it always amused me at how unaware she seemed of that fact.

She sniffed and wiped her nose.

I stared at her for a moment, then closed right in against her.

Something was wrong. Something new.

"Astrid? Astrid, honey, what is it?"

"Did I ever tell you what day today is?" she asked, hoarsely.

"No. What day is it?"

"My birthday."

"Oh my God, Astrid! Why didn't you tell me!"

"I turned twenty-one today," she whispered. "Mum and dad didn't remember. Or maybe they just didn't care; I don't really know, it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins any more..."

"Oh my God. Oh, sweetheart... I'm so sorry. Neither of them did anything at all? That's... that's horrid."

She shrugged.

"It's... hard to find anything to be happy about these days. So... Unhappy birthday to me, unhappy birthday to me, unhappy..."

Aghast, I pulled her in against me; she bit down the moan but couldn't quite manage to still the shaking.

I ran my hands up and down her back, trying to let the deep, personal, consuming affection I felt for her overflow from my soul into hers. And slowly she quietened. Slowly, the helpless shivers eased.

She sniffed again.

"Fuck it all," she whispered. "I'm so very tired, Becca."

"I know, sweetie. I know. Oh God, I'm so sorry. What a shitty way to turn twenty one. You should have told me. I'd never forget something so important. But tell you what; I'll make it better. I'll buy you some cake and a cup of tea, okay? It's not much, but it's something at least..."

She made a noise; I could tell she was trying not to start crying again.

"I'd think that I'd like that," she whispered at last. "You... you always know how to make me smile, no matter how bleak everything is."

I squeezed her until I squeaked; she refused to let go for quite some time, and I stood there, quiescent, gently stroking my hands back and forth over her angular shoulders.

I loved hugging her. I loved being close to her, no matter the circumstances. Over the slow, sad months we'd been meeting like this, she'd become my warm if slightly bony rock.

She always calmed me. And it seemed I had the same effect on her. I could no longer imagine trying to cope without her within hand's reach...

"Come on then," I said at last. "Let's go say hello to them, then we can be on our way. Davey first?"

She wiped her eyes.

"Let's go to Elizabeth," she said hoarsely. "Davey won't mind waiting. He never minded waiting for me."

"Okay, pet."

"No... flowers for Elizabeth today, Becca?"

"No. It's too cold; Lizzy never liked the cold."

"Davey loved the snow," she whispered. She sniffed again.

"Oh, she loved the snow, just not the cold. I know, she was weird."

"That's probably why you loved her so much," she said, softly.

"Well... it was one of the reasons, anyway."

"What were the others?"

"Oh... she was tall, and beautiful - like you - and she had this smile - a lot like yours, really - that just went right down inside me and turned on everything along the way. She loved puns, and cats, and a really horrendous shade of magenta that I used to call sexually frustrated purple..."

And I sighed.

Astrid shifted beside me. She took a slow breath.

"I... wish I had someone like her. But nobody ever looks at me that way. Nobody that I'd want, anyway."

I squeezed her arm.

"They will. Take my word on it. You'll meet them," I said. "Somehow, sometime, somewhere along the way, and probably sooner than later. You're a beautiful girl, Astrid. You're an absolute treasure - kind and warm and lovely. Far too lovely to be alone for very much longer - someone out there will find you soon and... snatch you away from me," I added, grinning up at her despite the pain the thought caused me. "It happened to me. Just be patient, and don't settle for anything less than you deserve. You're worth everything, hon. Everything."

"Snatch me away, is it?" she whispered.

"Yeah. But maybe I'll fight them for you," I added, only half-joking.

She'd flushed pink, but she said nothing more. She looped her arm through mine in the way we'd become so accustomed to doing, and we made our way slowly down the path beneath the bare arms of the sleeping trees.

Then, once we were done visiting our loved ones, I towed her after me and delivered her from the cold winter air into the warmth of our favourite cafe. I bought her a slice of Victoria Sponge cake, and bullied the lovely and long-suffering man behind the counter to put a little candle on it for her.

Astrid stared at me, pink and mortified, as I carried it to her.

Then she squeaked and hid her face as I began to sing. My voice was creaky these days, awful and crowish, and I couldn't hold a note very well any more - not like when I'd been a young, honey-smooth alto with my instrument not yet ruined by alcohol, grief and neglect.

I grinned in manic joy at the wonderful absurdity of the moment as I cawed her happy birthday for her.

Around us, pensioners and yummy mummies sat grinning at us - some even clapped for us both when I was done.

"Make a wish, sweetheart," I whispered, when she'd dared to peek out from behind her fingers.

She blew out her candle, then bit her lip and turned away to hide the tears.

I took her hand and held it until she was done.

I didn't have to ask what her wish was; I knew mine would be the same.

VII

My phone bleeped at me.

I paused, turned away from my laptop and stared down at it. Then I smiled. Astrid had texted me. We chatted with one-another constantly these days, and her messages were bright little raindrops that I loved to have fall into my life. I'd fallen out of contact with most of my friends after I'd lost Elizabeth... so Astrid's little gifts were unutterably precious to me.

This one, however, was different - no emojis, no puns...

Just a single sentence.

i have a favour to ask you

How strange. I scrabbled my phone up.

anything so long as it doesn't involve asparagus I sent in response.

:P no, seriously, it's serious :P

I glanced around, then stood and made my way to the office kitchen while I waited for her to pick up my call.

"Hey," she said, her voice low and guarded. "I can't talk long, sorry..."

"Neither can I. What's the favour?"

"I'm... my... oh for fuck sakes, Astrid, get it together. Right. Becca? My idiot best friend has decided that I need a belated birthday party. I actually need one like a hole in the head. But apparently I don't get a choice. So... it's this Friday evening. And..."

"And?" I said, softly.

A heartbeat's silence, then a second...

"Oh God, Becca, please will you come?" she begged.

I sighed.

"I... I don't know if that's a good idea, Astrid... I'm not... I'm really not made for parties any more."

"And I am? I need you there. Please, Becca. You're..."

"I'm what, honey?"

"You're the only one who gets me," she said softly. "You're the only one who knows what it's like for... for us. I don't want to be there alone."

"You won't be - your friends will be there..."

"But you won't," she said. "And... and that's not the celebration I want, Becca. Please?"

I stared at the bright and asinine motivational posters on our kitchen wall.

"What time?" I said, at last.

She sighed, obviously relieved. "Seven. There will be booze and food; Ursula's going all out for me. She was mad as a snake that my mum and dad forgot. She doesn't get what it's like, Becca. I'll send you the address."

"Okay. I'll... I'll be there, despite my better instincts. Any dress code I need to worry about?"

"Just come as you. How you are has always been... um... perfect for me."

A sharp ache under my ribs. I sighed.

"You'll owe me," I said. "I'll claim a movie night or... maybe a musical. If you're up for it."

"If it's with you, totally up for it. Okay. I've got to go. It's rush hour here and I'll get in trouble. Thank you. You're my angel."

"Okay. See you on Friday, then. Love you, Astrid," I said without thinking. Then I swallowed hard, horrified by what I'd just let slip.

"... Love you too... Becca," she said, with a strange pause.

She broke the connection.

And I slumped back against the kitchen table.

"Fuck," I whispered.

I didn't want to go. Everything about it screamed Bad Idea. I knew I was starting to feel complicated things for her... about her... and I knew that a social setting with alcohol and her in proximity was a recipe for doom...

But I liked her. I loved spending time with her. And...

I'd promised. Lizzy would never forgive me if I broke a promise. Promises were oaths, she'd always said. Better never to make them if you weren't going to keep them.

So now I had no choice. I could go for a bit, hang out with all the young, pretty people... and then beg off, run away to lick my wounds...

"Oh well, I guess I can be the token well-behaved grown-up," I said. "What do you think, Lizzy? One more party for old time's sake?"

She was silent, of course. Sitting there at the kitchen table, backlit by the pale morning light through the window, watching me with those dolorous green-grey eyes and that heart-stopping smile...

I blinked.

"Shit," I whispered. "Oh, fuck me."

She'd been so real for just a moment.

I needed more sleep. I was running on fumes, and it was starting to show.

I made myself a cup of tea with shaking hands and made my cautious way back to my desk.

My phone pinged just as I sat down. It was Astrid again; a simple thank you ♥

I stared down at the little blue heart and tried to work out why I suddenly felt so very tired of it all.

VIII

I stood, shifting from foot to foot as I waited for the doorbell to stop chiming. I could hear music leaking from the interior of the large, white, free-standing house; someone had hung strings of fairy lights on the windows and put tea-light candles out on the various flat surfaces in the garden. Rainbow-coloured bunches of balloons bobbed and danced on strings tied to the wall - whoever had arranged Astrid's party had put a lot of effort in.

I heard footsteps; I straightened, swallowed nervously, tucked a strand of my straw-coloured mop back behind an ear. Then I once again smoothed the fabric of my plain but serviceable little black dress over my thighs.

I felt ill. If it weren't for my promise...

"Be brave," I told myself.

An absolutely gorgeous blonde opened the door and peered at me.

"Rebecca?" she said, uncertainly. "It is you, isn't it?"

"Um... yes?"

Her smile blossomed like sunrise.

"Oh, at last! Hi. I'm Ursula. You look almost exactly how she described you. Thank God you're finally here, she's been completely unbearable." She grinned. "Let me get your coat, and then you can rescue her - and us, from her."

"Oh... um... thank you?"

She laughed.

"She's in the kitchen. I'll show you through. Now that you're here I'm hoping she'll finally unwind enough to at least look like she's having fun. I've never seen her this keyed up."

She eyed me, a quick down and up flick of her gaze that left me feeling uncomfortably naked.

"Though I think I understand why now, as well," she added, mischievously.

"I'm sorry... um..."

She grinned again. "Well, now that I've put you on the spot - can I get you something to drink? We have fruit juice and soft drinks as well, if you need to stay dry... but wet would be so much better for everyone involved."

I stared at her, trying to work out to what degree she was fucking with me. She smiled back, her expression as innocent as fresh-fallen snow.

Yep. She was totally fucking with me.

"Um... could I get some wine?" I said. "If you have? Please?"

"Of course! White or red or rose?"

"Red, please," I managed, intimidated by the noise and laughter and all the pretty people who I could hear having fun.

"Excellent choice," she purred. "Astrid's drinking that as well. Wow. She's going to be so happy to see you, especially like this... anyway... come along..."

"Um... thank... thank you..." I stammered, trying to keep afloat on her bizarre stream of consciousness.

She took my hand and pulled me after her. "Astrid!" she shouted. "Astrid Jones, where are you, you tart... oh. There she is! Astrid! Rebecca's here! So perk up, for fuck sakes!"

"Becca!" Astrid squealed; and I forgot everything and everyone else as she burst out of the small group of friendly men and women who'd cornered her. She'd done her hair up into a beautiful French braid, and was wearing a skin-tight sapphire-blue grecian-necked blouse and tight black trousers. She was tall, and stunning, and impossibly cool; I felt a strange, crawling shudder ripple along my spine as she enfolded me in her arms and pulled me tight against her.