The letter

When her nan died, Grace knew that, above everything, she would miss her mischief. Her nan, Frida, was ninety-four. “Oh, wow, good innings!” everyone said to her, as if that made the goodbye easier, but she had the fire in her belly of a twenty-one-year-old.

And where did that fire go? That’s what Grace couldn’t get her head around when Frida died. Where on earth did that energy go? The energy that had her nan travelling to a different country every New Year’s Eve, alone with a single suitcase and a loose plan. The energy that had holding her own birthday party at ninety that had a funeral theme she had found absolutely hilarious. And the energy that made it so every year for Christmas, she would find different and mad ways to wrap a single orange.

So when she died, Grace almost waited for her to come back. Because Frida wasn’t the sort of woman who just died. Grace had expected her to explode out of a cake or something. Appear on TV, somehow, saying, “I had you all there for a minute, didn’t I?” But as time went on, along with the horrible exhaustive sadness, Grace found herself sitting with something that felt like . . . disappointment. A sense of missing something. Because how could someone like Frida just be gone with a whisper?

And just as she eventually gave it a seat at the table and labelled it one of those weird emotions people talk about when in the throes of grief, on New Year’s Eve, the letter arrived.

Dear Grace, Consider this a notice of haunting. (Ha ha. I’m just pulling your leg.) If all goes according to plan, you’ll be receiving this twelve weeks after I’ve gone – poof! I thought I’d give you some time before I reappeared. If you’re still whinging, know that I miss you, too, but now is the time to stop being sad.

In this envelope you’ll find everything you’ll need for your trip.

You always say you’re too busy with that job of yours, that you aren’t like me, that you can’t travel alone, that you aren’t brave, and that you’re saving all these things for when you’re not single.

But no more waiting. Please, go. I know you will. Mostly because it’s hard to say no to a dead woman.

Enjoy the new beginnings.

I love you.

Nan x

Grace shuffles down the plane and finds her seat.

Antigua. Of course her nan had chosen Antigua. It had been the first holiday Frida had taken alone.

“The fi