Five Things They Never Told Me (20 page)

Here are four things that I know. They are things that Martha told me and they're things that it took her a lifetime to discover. Nobody told her
this stuff, but she told me so that I wouldn't waste a single minute more.

1. You have to grow old. That's kind of obvious. Nobody can stop time and people age – even people who fight against it and get all sorts of freaky plastic surgery. They're still getting older on the inside, every day. But you don't have to grow up. Nobody can force you to be sensible or mature if you don't want to be. And when you're old, you'll still be
   you
   . Just a bit more wrinkly and tired, that's all.
   
2. If you can't find a happy ending then look for a new beginning. It's OK to start again – people do it every day. We shouldn't waste our energy trying to fix a situation that can't be fixed. And you never know, the new beginning might end up leading you to a better story anyway.
   
3. Nobody cares if you are totally and utterly rubbish at dancing. You should just get on your feet and dance. I'm glad I've not had to wait until I'm an old lady to learn this one, otherwise I'd have spent my entire life not dancing. Now I can do a pretty passable jitterbug, even if I do say so myself.
   
4. Nobody will tell you when you'll have your last summer and there's a good chance that you won't even know it. My summers will never be the same again – I know that I've had my last true summer as a kid. I need to do what Martha told me and live for the now. And I think that maybe Martha knew this was her last summer and she spent it doing exactly what she wanted to do.
   

Martha taught me these four things over the summer and I know I'll never forget her, not even when I'm an old lady and probably have no memory of what I had for breakfast.

I had to wait for the fifth thing she taught me until three weeks after she left.

The sound of the postman dropping the letters through the door makes me look up. Every so often Frog writes me a letter. It's silly really. We see each other most days at school and hang out together at the weekends – but still, his letters make me feel like the most important person in the world. Like I'm somebody worth spending time thinking about.

I was worried that nothing would be the same after Oak Hill, that the magic of our time together might have ended when normal life kicked in. And it isn't the same. It's better. I've still got my amazing memories of the summer and they feel really special – but I'm mostly enjoying the NOW, not living in the past.

I leave my sketchpad on the kitchen table and head out into the hall. There's quite a lot of post and I sift through quickly, putting most of it in a pile for Dad to deal with. The last envelope is addressed to me, though.

I can tell straight away it isn't from him. It's not written in a young person's handwriting. Tearing it open I reach inside and pull out a compliment slip with the Oak Hill logo on the top. I pause for a moment, suddenly reluctant to read the message. What if it's bad news? I haven't heard anything about Martha since the day that she left – it's like she's disappeared off the face of the planet – but it's in the back of my mind that she was old and ill. One of these days is going to be her last day and I'll never know.

Dear Erin,

I hope this finds you well. I came across this when I was sorting through some paperwork. Martha asked me to pass it on to you – my apologies for not posting it sooner. I hope we'll see you at Oak Hill with your dad sometime soon.

Best wishes,

Beatrice x

Inside the envelope is a single sheet of A4 paper. I ease it out carefully and recognize it instantly. It's the picture I did of Martha, back on our last afternoon of the summer. And at the bottom is a message. I can tell that Martha wrote it with her right hand because the handwriting is all wobbly and spidery. I read the words that probably took her ages to write.

The sketch is good. I know that sounds big-headed but it really is. Martha looks happy and vibrant and alive. I think that when I remember her, I'm going to remember this Martha, because that's who she really was. Her tired, frail body slowed her down but in her head she was young.

I look again at her message.

Dearest Erin,

Our summer together is over and we have both changed, in many different ways. I have happened. But you are happening right now. This is the truth and I am glad of it. Regret nothing – live in the moment. And thank you for helping me to end well. It mattered.

Fondest love,

Martha

X

I walk back into the kitchen and put the picture carefully on the table. I crouch down next to Picasso, who is fast asleep, and ruffle his fur. He's been sleeping a lot lately and Dad has started talking about his age and saying that, in dog years, he should be drawing his pension by now. I know what he's trying to tell me but I don't want to think about it too much. I just make sure that I give Picasso even more cuddles than normal. His blanket has fallen off his long body and I tuck
him back in carefully. Helping him to stay warm and cosy. Helping him to end well

And then I pick up my iPad and start writing an email to Mum. Maybe I'll go and see her at the weekend. Probably I could play Pictionary with the boys. I could take Frog and we could teach them how to jitterbug. For some reason they seem to like me and that's OK, I suppose. Once I've done this I think I'll go out and join Dad in the garden. If I ask him nicely I'm sure he'll let us order pizza for tea tonight. It's been 191 Days With Dad and we're finally starting to figure each other out. Pizza helps. We can talk to each other over a pizza. Life is different now. Different, but still life.

This summer I've learnt stuff that I'd never have learnt at school – five things that will be so much more useful to me than fractions or spellings or stupid grammar. And I wasn't looking for any of it. This has been the best and the worst summer of my life. It has been the last summer and the first, and I will never, ever forget it.

It has taken quite a lot of people to create the book you're now holding in your hands and I am incredibly grateful to all of them for their time and support.

Thank you Adam, Zach, Georgia and Reuben who, as always, have been excited and positive about this whole writing adventure.

Thank you, Mum, for reading several drafts and helping point me in the right direction and, Polly, for your advice (particularly about Picasso and typical dog behaviour …!).

My Aunty Helen, who lives in Canada, spent hours answering questions about her childhood and teenage years for me, as did my granny. Thank you both – some of your memories are included in this book and the rest are being kept safe for future use!

I also need to thank Erin B (whose name I borrowed!), Kate K, Amanda B, Paula L & Sophie E for providing critical feedback, guidance and encouragement in the early stages.

And thank you to Julia, Alex, Carolyn and the team at Puffin. I really appreciate all your support and hard work.