Send a letter
Ms. Annie Hebden, née Clarke. The letter looked official, printed on stiff cream paper. Annie picked it off the mat and recognized the logo of Polly’s solicitor. She tore it open, heart hammering. Enclosed was another letter, in a lilac envelope that was stuck over in stars and hearts, as if Annie had suddenly acquired a ten-year-old pen pal.
She sat down at the table to open it, knowing it would be something important. After all, it was from Polly. Anything less than explosive wasn’t her style.
My dearest Angry Annie, my Betty Buzzkill,
Don’t worry, I’m not writing from beyond the grave. I’ve arranged to have this posted to you a little while after I go, because I know you’ll need reminding of a few things. And I know how stubborn both you and Dr. Max are.
People say you should only regret the things you haven’t done. This is clearly bollocks, because what if you started World War III or bought a load of Blu-ray discs or something? One thing I regret is that I never pushed you to ask out Dr. Max. I was a little jealous, you see. That you’d get to live and fall in love and it was all over for me. Forgive me for that? You are very sad and he is very angry, but I feel you could make each other a little less so. I very much doubt you will be speaking right now, if I know either of you, so here is my message from beyond: go after him. Be happy, Annie. You deserve it. You’ve had more than your fair share of the other thing.
If I’m wrong and you’re already together, then fine, you win, and say hi to him for me. Do not start ironing his shirts.
I don’t know if I believe in heaven or if I’d get in, anyway, but if I’m also wrong about all of that, then you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to find Jacob and your dad and give them big old hugs from you. Not that they will know who the strange lady with the bald head is.
With all my love and all my life,
Polly xxxxx
Annie wiped away the tears that had fallen on the letter, smudging the bright purple ink. Bloody Polly. Bloody, awful, amazing, irreplaceable Polly. What would she do without her to argue with? She could even hear her voice in her head, urging her on.
But he went away. He said no.
He was just upset. He blamed himself.
But he might say no again.
Annieeeee—what do you have to lose?
But I don’t know where he is!
Where the hell else could he be?
She laid down the letter, and picked up her phone, and started checking train times to Scotland.