‘Ollie’s friend Sam helped us. He’s a ranger.’
‘And they’re here?’
‘Yes!’
‘They want to see me?’
‘They’re desperate to see you,’ I added. ‘They’ve missed you more than you can imagine.’
‘No,’ Leanne said slowly. ‘I don’t have to imagine.’ She paused, shook her head, finally managed to pull her gaze back into focus, and fixed it on me. ‘They’re really here?’
‘YES!’ Joan shouted, tugging on her mum’s hand. ‘Let’s go and get them!’
Leanne turned to look at her daughter, face scrunched in bewilderment. ‘Okay.’
When we arrived back ten minutes later, Leanne had pulled a hoodie over the top of her pyjamas and tucked her lank hair behind her ears. She looked all of the sixteen years old she’d been when she last saw her parents.
I stepped back, one arm around Joan as Carole and Peter approached the bay.
‘Oh, oh!’ As soon as Carole saw where Leanne was sitting, she launched herself across the remaining few metres past two pairs of beds on either side, bag flying behind her with the contents spilling. Stopping right in front of the chair, she sank slowly to her knees before reaching up with one tentative hand to stroke her daughter’s wan, tear-streaked cheek.
‘My darling girl.’
‘Mum.’ Leanne clasped her mother’s hand, pressing it tight against her jutting cheekbone.
Then Peter reached them, the strewn contents of Carole’s bag that he’d gathered along the way quickly dumped on the bed as he bent to enfold his daughter inside fifteen years of waiting and hoping.
‘Dad.’
‘I’m here, I’m here, it’s all right now, we’re here,’ was the reply.
I quietly drew the curtain around the bay, and Joan and I went to see if we could find a drink and a snack in the café.
Steph messaged while we were eating our muffins:
You hung up on me! Sherwood Ollie would never have been so assertive. I’m proud of you, keep up the good work xxx
Another one pinged through a second later:
Drew says he’ll bring his BBQ
We didn’t stay much longer at the hospital. Leanne was unable to keep her eyes open, and Joan was flagging. Her Nana and Grandad asked if they could take her out for dinner, so I used my newfound assertiveness to insist that Joan had a couple of hours’ downtime first.
It was a strange feeling, being home alone for the first evening in a fortnight. After so many months of pleasing myself, I’d quickly readjusted to planning my routine around another person. And whatever Steph might have to say on the matter, I liked having someone to tether my decisions to. Some of the time, at least.
Once I’d waved Joan off, I spent a lacklustre hour clicking through emails and other admin, spending more time thinking about the momentous events of the past two days than I did providing managerial support to my ReadUp coaching team.
And then I shut the laptop, picked up the phone and called my mother.
I didn’t expect tears （not of joy, anyway） or anything like the kind of reaction I’d witnessed that afternoon. It had only been three months, for one thing. And this was Mum; a top psychologist couldn’t predict how she’d react, let alone her own daughter.
‘Hello?’
Well, that was a reasonable start at least.
‘Hi, Mum. It’s me.’
‘I know that.’
‘I was thinking about you. I mean, I always think about you. But. Well. I just wanted to say hi and ask how you’re getting on.’
She sniffed. ‘I thought your spies provide regular reports.’
‘I’ve not spoken to Aunty Linda – or Karina – in a couple of weeks, actually.’
‘Oh, poor them. A whole two weeks without speaking to you, they must be distraught.’
I closed my eyes, forced my jaw to unclench and ploughed on. ‘I saw you on the Buttonhole website. It’s great that you’re teaching more courses again.’
‘Great as in you don’t have to feel guilty for ghosting me?’
This was a bad idea. I glanced at the time. I’d give her a couple more minutes to get it out her system, and if things didn’t improve I’d hang up.
‘Great, as in I was really pleased to see you’re out doing the things you love.’
‘Well, as long as you’re pleased that’s all right, then, isn’t it?’
‘Your hair looks amazing.’
There was such a long pause I wondered if she’d ended the call.