Page 11 of Just Do It
Colette looked momentarily shifty. I smiled.
‘Greg’s meeting you here, isn’t he?’
Her own smile burst onto her face. ‘Yes. Is it that obvious?’
‘Who cares, if you’re happy?’
‘That is true.’
We did the two kiss thing, a habit Colette had never dropped and I headed out of the café and back up the road towards my mews house. Colette lived close by and had an income to match the area. I’d inherited my place from my much loved and much missed grandmother. A fact that hadn’t surprised my mother even though it had floored me.
‘You always were her favourite grandchild.’
‘Mum, I was her only grandchild.’
‘There you go then.’
‘But it should go to you.’
Mum had touched my face and handed me a letter. I recognised the writing on the envelope. My name written in the loopy, yet elegant strokes of my grandmother.
My dearest Elizabeth,
Now you’re reading this, my time has come. I’d tell you not to be sad, but of course you will be – and quite right too. I was, of course, remarkable.
Here she’d drawn a sketch of an elegant, older woman looking out from the paper and winking at the reader. I’d always envied Gran’s artistic talents.
But in truth, my love, try not to be too sad for too long. I left you this house, which I know has probably surprised you, but I discussed it with your mother a long time ago. It’s impossible to get on the property ladder nowadays and I had the opportunity to help with that. I have so many happy memories of you being here, and I hope you have the same. Decorate it how you like. It’s yours now. Be free. And don’t forget what I always told you. You are amazing. You can do anything youput your mind to. And if something’s important to you, never give up.
I love you.
Gran xxxx
Ps – do try and keep it tidy, darling!
I’d cried for days but moving out of the noisy house share and into Gran’s house – my house – had helped me deal with my grief. I knew she’d be happy about that. The last part of her letter was the bit I had trouble with and I hoped her spirit was still turning a blind eye to my mess five years later.
‘Here’s fine,’ I said, putting my end of the desk down close to the door and perpendicular to my own.
‘Sure?’ Kalif said, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
‘It will have to do,’ I said, pushing the chair I’d already wheeled from storage behind it. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. Thanks for the help.’
‘No problem. I’m going to get back to cataloguing that collection of Roman coins that came in last week. Shout if you need any more help.’
‘If they want anything else, they can damn well get it themselves. My back is not happy.’
‘The request was a space for a desk, not to move the actual furniture.’ A deep voice came from the doorway.
Kalif straightened and I spun around. Inis was smiling at me but I could tell she wasn’t impressed. ‘We wanted to make you feel welcome, didn’t we, Lizzie?’
‘Umm…’ I croaked then cleared my throat. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘So, as I said, you’ll be sharing an office with Lizzie. She’s our Curator of Collections and Egyptian Antiquities. Lizzie, this is Finn Bryson, the project manager for the extension of the museum.’
‘Hi.’ He held out a shovel-sized hand and I stuck out my own. ‘Nice to meet you.’ I focused on his eyes but there was nothing. No sense of recognition. Not even a flicker. He had absolutely no idea who I was. I wassuchan idiot.
‘Yes. And you.’
