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When Norrie listens to the first tape Lucy recorded, she cries.
Sobs, really.
It hits her, harder than ever before, that she missed two years of Lucy’s life. And Lucy did her best to stay connected to Norrie, but there was nothing she could do to reach back.
Even now, Lucy has had to return to London with the rest of her team. At least with Norrie awake they can call, but it isn’t the same as it used to be, when they spent the majority of their time together and didn’t have any secrets.
Not that Norrie thinks Lucy is intentionally keeping anything from her. It’s just that they have, for lack of a better phrase, grown apart after being separated for two years.
Well, Lucy’s grown. Norrie hasn’t changed much at all.
Lucy spent the entire time Norrie was ghost-locked reaching out, knowing she would never get anything back. She kept hoping, even when it must have seemed hopeless.
Norrie can never repay the level of devotion Lucy has shown her.
In any case, she cries at that first tape.
It’s full of I’m sorry s and I miss you s and I love you so much, Norrie . There’s hardly any actual information about what Lucy has been up to for how full it is of grief and heartbreak. As far as Norrie can tell, she taped it not long after she was hired at Lockwood & Co., and she can hardly imagine how scared Lucy must have been going to London by herself, knowing there was nothing waiting for her at home but an unloving mother and a still, cloudy-eyed body in a house down the street.
When it clicks off, Norrie hugs the tape player to her chest and sobs.
Her eyes are red and her head hurts when she runs out of tears, but she knows what she wants to do.
—
Lucy. Oh, Lucy. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t know how you did this for so long. It’s hard, talking to yourself even if the words are meant for someone else.
You should know, your first tape made me sob. In a good way, I mean. Or, as good as it could have been, considering the circumstances.
I wish I could have been there with you.
I’m sorry I wasn’t.
I don’t– Well– I thought maybe I’d send you tapes too. At least until we can see each other again. Can’t believe you’re off being all fancy and important in London. I don’t think either of us really believed it when we made that pact, but you’ve gone and done it.
Anyway, I have to thank you and your newfound political influence. DEPRAC is bending over backwards for me and my recovery. I don’t think they want the scandal if anyone found out they’d been shit to the Lucy Carlyle’s closest childhood friend.
They’ve got me all set up with a therapist–to get me readjusted to society, I guess–and a physical therapist to fix my body up. Two years without moving doesn’t do great for the body. Lots of hospital visits in my future.
I’m in a wheelchair for a bit, which I hate , but the doctors say I should recover fairly quickly. I’m young, after all.
I don’t know if your boys told you, but they said that I could come and live with you, once I’ve recovered more. If you don’t want that, of course, then we can forget all about it, but…Lucy, I don’t ever want to leave you again. If you want me, I’m there. Once I can stand on my own two feet again, that is.
I had my first appointment today. Everyone was lovely, but it feels like shit when your body doesn’t do what you tell it to do. All I managed was to sit up by myself. They all said it was great progress for a first day, but I still hate it.
Honestly, I’m glad you sent tapes instead of letters, because I’d never be able to hold a pen long enough to write all this out.
Everything hurts, all the time.
They say it will get better, but it’s hard to see beyond the pain sometimes.
I didn’t mean for this to get so depressing. I’m alright, really. Mum and dad are being a bit overbearing, but they did watch me in a coma for two years, so I suppose it’s understandable. I think they’re relieved there’s no ghost-hunting for me to go back to with The Problem being over and all.
How are you doing? How’s your team? Let me know if you plan on being on the news anytime soon–I’ll try and catch it.
Mum’s here with dinner, so I guess this is it.
I love you, Luce. Thank you for the tapes.
—
“Luce! There’s a package for you!” Lockwood calls up the stairs.
She’s not expecting anything, but they’ve certainly been on the receiving end of a number of gratitude packages, so it isn’t entirely a surprise. Usually things are addressed to the agency, so it is a bit strange that Lockwood isn’t also calling George out from his room, but maybe it’s something just for her.
Wandering downstairs, she briefly checks in on George, who is furiously scribbling something in a notebook. Lucy knows better than to disturb him, so she continues on down the stairs. There’s not much George is aware of when he gets in the zone, so he probably wouldn’t have heard even if Lockwood had called for him.
Lockwood is in the library, the package on the little table next to his chair. He’s also writing, working on a speech for the six-month anniversary of the events at Fittes House.
She leans down to kiss his cheek as she enters, and he smiles up at her–one of his truly full smiles, almost entirely reserved for her and George.
He nods to the package. “It’s from Norrie. Do you want me to give you the room?”
Lucy steps forward, running careful fingers over the label clearly written by one of Norrie’s parents and not Norrie herself. “Please.”
“Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” He leaves with a squeeze to her shoulder.
Norrie is in no way a taboo subject or the source of any discomfort between the three of them, but she comes from a part of Lucy’s life that, because of the mill, is very private and often distressing. It took a lot for her to open up about Norrie, and both Lockwood and George understand and respect that it isn’t something they can fix, that it’s something Lucy has to do the hard work of dealing with herself.
It’s gotten easier to share the stories, but Norrie is still something that neither of the boys has a lot of experience with. When she was ghost-locked, she and Lockwood had their shared grief, but now that she’s woken up, everything has changed.
It hasn’t been that long, and Lucy thinks maybe they’re all still finding their balance again.
The package itself is a padded envelope that Lucy tears open. Inside, is a cassette tape. No note, just a tape like she would have sent when Norrie was ghost-locked. At first, she thinks it’s one of her own, but taped to the front is a scrap of paper with her name written in shaky, shaky letters and a polaroid of the two of them from their time at Jacobs’.
Norrie made her a tape.
Just like the ones she sent Norrie.
There’s a tape player that lives in the library, so Lucy pulls it off the shelf, taking a moment to compose herself.
They’ve talked since Norrie woke up, of course they have. But she gets tired easily and there’s lots of appointments (and Lucy is quite busy herself), so calls are typically short. The fact that Norrie took the time to record a tape for her means the world.
She puts the tape in, and lets Norrie’s words wash over her.
—
Norrie can hear the phone ringing downstairs.
One of her parents will get it in a moment, but for now it fills the entire house.
Stuck in bed as she is, most of what Norrie does–in the time she’s awake–is listen to Lucy’s tapes (and, on occasion, music), be guided through stretches by one of the DEPRAC-sponsored nurses that comes by every day, and indulge her parents’ overprotectiveness. There’s not much else to do.
The phone stops ringing. If she strains her ears, she can hear her mother greeting the person on the other end.
There’s footsteps on the stairs.
Her mother knocks on her door. “Norrie? Are you awake?”
“Yeah, Mum. You can come in.”
She enters, always a little cautious even now. “It’s Lucy on the phone for you, dear.”
She puts the phone on speaker and sets it in Norrie’s lap.
Patting Norrie’s shoulder, she says, “I’ll leave you to it, I suppose,” but she hovers for another long moment before leaving, closing the door behind her.
“Hey Luce,” Norrie says when she’s gone. “How are you?”
“I got your tape,” Lucy replies, voice wet.
Norrie hadn’t forgotten about it–how could she?–but she didn’t know when Lucy would get it, so it had slipped to the back of her mind.
“What…what did you think?” She could guess, considering the way she reacted to Lucy’s first tape and the way Lucy sounds just a bit like she’s been crying, but it’s better to ask than to assume.
“I can’t believe you did that for me.”
“You did it for me first,” Norrie points out. “I was only following your lead.”
“I just– I missed you so much for so long. It’s nice being able to hear your voice again. I wish we lived closer still. I’d come over every day if I could.”
“I know you would, Luce.”
She contemplates asking if Lucy has given any thought to her coming to London, but Lucy beats her to it.
“When you’re better– you’ll come, right? I don’t want to be apart anymore either. And I always want you here. I really think you’ll like Portland Row.”
“Nothing could keep me away. The minute I can walk on my own again I’ll be on the train.” She promises.
“Don’t rush yourself,” Lucy says. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just– I’m so glad you’re awake.”
They pause for a moment, just listening to each other breathe, before Lucy speaks again.
“Will you keep sending the tapes?” She asks.
Norrie doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course I will.”