Page 93 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop
I opened the book once more and glanced down the list, my eyes widening with surprise as I spotted her name.
‘Mum’s one of them!’ I flicked through to the pages against her name, staring at the stunning images in disbelief. ‘I had no idea she’d done this.’
‘When we’ve talked about your mum’s work, you’ve never mentioned it and, given how much you love the aurora, I figured you mustn’t know about it.’
‘Not a clue! I thought she only did street photography now.’
‘There’s something else,’ Lily said, turning to the back of the book. ‘You need to read the acknowledgements. They’re the reason I wanted you to have this in private.’
I glanced down and read what Mum had written.
I was twenty when I saw and photographed my first aurora. Those lights soothed me in a world I found increasingly overwhelming, filled with people I didn’t understand and who didn’t understand me. I spent several years exploring the northern hemisphere, seeking out the aurora, and one of those trips changed my life. I met somebody who got me and who I understood in return. We were blessed with two wonderful children, Lars and Pia. Tragically Pia, our little pixie, couldn’t stay and, for years afterwards, I rejected the landscapes, hid from the aurora, cut myself off from the people I loved because it hurt too much. On what would have been Pia’s twentieth birthday, I felt compelled to seek out the aurora for her. She couldn’t be with me in person but her favourite book and a knitted dragon kept me company and I watched my beloved girl shine in those lights. My contributions to this book are the photos I took that night and the auroras on her birthday and my son’s over the next three years. This is for my little girl but it’s also for Lars and my mum. I see you all in the lights, I see you in my dreams and I miss you with all my heart xx
‘I can’t believe she wrote that,’ I said, wiping my cheeks after I’d read it through three times. ‘If she misses us that much, why doesn’t she come back more often or for longer?’
Lily shrugged. ‘I don’t know your mum but sometimes things scare us so much that it’s easier to flee from them than face them. I’m proof of that and so are you.’
I nodded slowly as I mulled that over. When Nanna and I talked about Mum after I found the photo album devoted to Pia, I’d wondered if there was more to Mum’s absence – perhaps being that she cared too much rather than too little. The photographs and those heartfelt words would support that. As a kid, I’d felt the fear of abandonment and pushed Lily away before she could leave me. It seemed that Mum had felt the fear of further loss and, just like me, she’d built protective walls. I’d regretted mine and it sounded to me like she regretted hers.
‘And now you know what happened to Pia’s book and her knitted dragon,’ Lily said, her voice gentle. ‘Your mum has them.’
I put my arm round her and gave her a soft kiss. ‘This is the best book anyone could ever have gifted me. Thank you for finding this.’
‘Right back at you with my first edition. And my other special book.’
We sat there for a while as I studied Mum’s photographs and the information accompanying them about where she’d taken them and what she’d been feeling. I felt I knew her better – understood her more – through those written words than any she’d spoken over the past two decades and I was convinced more than ever that she was lonely. But she didn’t need to be and I’d make sure she knew that when I saw her next month.
I closed the book with a satisfied sigh, feeling so much more optimistic about seeing her again and about having a positive relationship with her going forwards.
‘Now that I’ve made you cry,’ Lily said, ‘are you ready to go to the other extreme – a cookie-making frenzy with my crazy family?’
‘I am. Let’s go.’
‘By the way, there are some packets of lametta at Everdene waiting for you to add to the tree. I thought I’d better warn you in case it’s a bit emotional.’
‘Appreciate the heads up.’
While Lily went through to the front to retrieve our belongings, I gathered the books together and turned my gaze to the Bookmas tree. I often pictured Pia in the children’s section, including by the tree, but now I had a vivid image of her sitting on the floor with Mum as they looked through a book together. The child me joined them, a book in each hand, followed by Pabbi. He helped Mum to her feet and kissed her, then lifted Pia up and put his arm around me. Everyone was smiling and, with a jolt, I realised this was a memory rather than something my imagination had conjured up. Wehadbeen a happy family once and I’d forgotten that. I’d been so hurt that I’d pushed away all the good memories and wallowed in the bad ones. Pia would have hated that.I’ll fix our family, Pia. I’ll fix it for you.I kissed my fingers and blew the kiss towards the tree.
Hearing a sound behind me, I turned to see Lily in tears.
‘That kiss was for your sister, wasn’t it?’ she said, her voice choked with emotion.
I nodded.
‘I thoughtJólabókaflóðwas meant to be a flood of books, not a flood of tears.’
I wrapped my arms around her. ‘Powerful things, those books. Adventures taken, friends made, secrets shared, lessons learned. Why would anyone ever want to live a life without books?’
‘Well said, Paperback Pixie.’ She squeezed me tight. ‘You looked lost in your memories before you blew the kiss.’
‘I was. You know how I’ve always said I can’t remember us ever being a happy family? I had this sudden powerful memory of the four of us in here one Christmas and we were really happy. I’d forgotten that. I think I might have forgotten a lot of things.’
‘As well as writing my favourite series, L. M. Montgomery wrote a book calledThe Story Girland there’s a lovely quote from it –Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.I’m sure those happy memories will keep coming back to you when you’re ready for them.’
‘That’s a great quote and very apt.’
Lily waved goodbye to the books in the children’s section. ‘HappyJólabókaflóðandMerry Christmas. We’ll be back soon.’
