Bel's locket

Bel ran her forefinger over the fine, filigree on her Grandmother's silver locket and sighed. In her mind's eye she could see the withered face of Granma Bel chuckling back at her-her grey eyes that twinkled like dying stars, her smile that could melt chocolate at fifty paces and her long, molten-silver hair that cascaded over her shoulders.
Bel never thought the distance between them could ever be so great. But now as she stared at the locket and chain that she had only ever seen hanging round her Grandmother's neck, it felt like a universe separated them. How far do souls soar when the body dies?, she wondered, and where is heaven? in the clouds? near the moon? out by the far reaches of the milky way, where the comets swarm round the sun?
She took a deep breath and clutched her hand to her chest, trying to hold down the swell of sadness that rose inside her. All she could think about was the moment Granma Bel gave her that locket. She was sat on the brown velour armchair in her grandmother's lounge. The electric fire was on. The tinny smell of burning metal mingled with the heady aroma of Granma's Lily of the Valley perfume. On every shelf there were porcelain statues of ballet dancers poised on points-a reminder of bygone passions.
"Now remember dear," her grandmother croaked as she pressed the little locket into Bel's palm before curling Bel's fingers protectively around it, "Don't open this locket until I'm gone. You must promise me."
"But I don't want it, Granma. It's yours," Bel said, plaintively holding her hand out, hoping her Grandmother would take it back.
"I have no use for it now, Bel. It's yours."
Bel didn't want to admit it at the time but she knew her Grandmother wouldn't be around for very much longer. She felt her pain. When her Grandmother struggled to walk, Bel felt spasms in her legs. When she struggled to breathe, Bel's chest was tight. And when she could no longer eat, Bel's stomach seized from hunger.
She didn't want the locket, but pleasing her Grandmother was what she did want.
"Thanks, Granma."
Quite why her Grandmother was so sincere about her not opening it Bel wasn't sure. It wasn't something she considered, until now.
"I hope she's put a photograph in it," Bel said as she prised the silver clasp apart.
The moment it released the locket flipped open all by itself, and a silvery light, as bright as a full moon, swirled up into the air from inside it.
It caught Bel by such a surprise she stumbled back and fell onto her bed, dropping the locket to the floor.
"Hello, Bel, dear," said her Grandmother's voice.
Bel looked all around her, wondering where the haunting echo of her Grandmother was coming from. Was it in her head?
"I'm here," said the voice again. "I'm here in the locket. I'll always be with you."
"Granma?" said Bel.
"Yes, dear. It's me."
"I don't understand. You're gone, aren't you?"
"In body yes, but my spirit lives on."
Bel let out a laugh of elation, and tears began to pour down her cheeks.
"I miss you so much," spluttered Bel. "If I could give up this locket to have five more minutes with you I would, I swear it."
"There's no need for that. You can have as long as you need with me. Always. All you have to do is open the locket and I'll be here."
Bel brushed the tears from her cheeks. "You mean I can talk to you whenever I want."
"Yes."
"Forever?"
"And ever."