‘Hello, Hedda. Come in. The birthday girl’s in the garden.’
I follow Rod through the house and into the toy-strewn garden. Balloons and streamers hang from apple trees. At the bottom of the garden Rose is crouching over a sandpit, digging with a spade. I watch her for a while.
She looks up and smiles, then takes a few uncertain steps towards me. ‘Heddy,’ she says.
I force myself to walk, not run, towards her and pick her up. She’s so heavy now, but she still smells the same. I feel her warm fingers at the back of my neck. I wonder for the millionth time how much she understands.
After a while, she wriggles down and I turn to Vi, who’s carrying out a glass of lemonade. I drink half of it, carefully, and set it down.
‘Ba-a,’ Rose says, which is her word for ‘balloon’.
Vi untangles one from a tree and hands it to her.
She totters over and passes it to me. ‘Heddy.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, and bend down to kiss her again. ‘I’ll tell you what, shall we let it go? See how far it goes on the wind?’
Rose gazes up at me, her little face serious. I reach up and open my fingers, and we both watch as the balloon floats into the sky. Rose squeals. I pick her up so she can see and do my best not to hold her too tight. When it’s a tiny dot in the distance, I put Rose down gently and turn to Vi.
‘I’m not going to stay for the party. I’m due at work.’
Vi nods.
‘I’ll pop her present inside,’ I say. ‘She can open it later.’
‘Or you could give it to her on Saturday?’ Vi says.
Saturday is Rose’s first home visit with me in my new flat. If it goes well, then eventually she’ll come to live with me again.
Vi squeezes my shoulder. ‘One step at a time. You can be a good mum to her, Hedda. You already are.’
I don’t know about that.
Mum and Tammy will be here for the party soon. I see them twice a week and they visit Rose in between too. Tammy and me have a laugh actually and I think we’ve rubbed off on Mum because she’s started to develop a sense of humour. She told us this joke the other week that had an actual swear word in it, and we were so shocked it took us a good minute to start laughing. Who would’ve thought Mum would tell sweary jokes? I wish I’d realised sooner. I think she’s happier now Dad’s finally gone and she can stop waiting for it to happen and get on with life. She’s applying for jobs, inspired by me working for Lois, I think. I’ve been doing my A level maths in the evenings, alongside an accountancy qualification and I’m going to finish it this time.
The other day after work, I went to see Mum and Tammy. Mum was in the garden pulling up weeds with her bare hands. I went over to her, put my own fingers into the warm earth. Mum rocked back on her heels and looked at me for a while. Just a look taking me in, straightforward.
Then she said, ‘You seem well.’
And I didn’t flinch, or grimace. Instead, I smiled.
I was about to go inside, when she lifted up one muddy hand and said, ‘Hedda, I’ve been meaning to talk to you … I wanted to say … to say …’ And she stopped. Two tears dropped down her cheeks.
I held her eyes, and in them I read a thousand apologies.
Then she reached out.
And I let her hug me.
After a while, I brought my hands up and hugged her back, and neither of us was bothered that we were getting covered in all that earth.
‘What you’ve been through …’ Mum started.
‘It’s OK, Mum. I know.’
Later on that day, Tammy and I watched The Force Awakens again. I loved the bit where Rey got hold of a lightsabre. It made me think of Rose growing up strong, and of Robin. We’ve been emailing, but I haven’t seen him. It didn’t work out with him and Jade, but he’s staying in Leeds to be near Ellis. Sometimes I have this dream, where I hear his heart beating strong and slow and I feel calm. Warm. I’m still working out what that might mean, or if it means anything at all. I don’t know if it should. Robin will always be the boy who was there when my own heart woke up. But maybe he belongs to that time, not the future.
Laurel writes occasional letters from hospital, but she lives in monochrome now. I tried to write back at first, but it didn’t do any good. I don’t answer any more, but sometimes I look up at the sky and think about her. I hope she makes it.
As for me? I guess part of me will always be left in that world. But I also have my new flat, my job, my books. I’ve stopped swinging by the to-be-shelved section. Instead, I’m working out the things I like. Turns out I love fantasy.
I still go to therapy, twice a week, with a different counsellor now I’m under Adult Services, though I send Felicity the occasional message to let her know I’m OK. I stay away from scales. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a bike that’s just had the stabilisers off and the smallest wobble is going to slam me straight back down. But maybe life’s like that for everyone.
I don’t feel Molly or Nia on my shoulders the way I did before, and it’s so lonely sometimes, without them there. A few weeks ago, I visited Molly’s grave one more time, to give her back the lists and the poncho. I sat in front of her headstone and watched them burn and thought about how little I ever really had of her. She could have had a beautiful life, but I’m not the one to live it for her.
I’ve got enough to do working out how to live my own.
‘Saturday’s still OK, isn’t it? You’re ready?’ Vi says.
I look over, to Rose reaching her fingers up to the leaves. She sits down hard on her bottom and giggles. She’s so happy here. Whatever happens, whether she lives with me or not, the fact that she’s in the world still seems like the strangest miracle.
I realise Vi is waiting for my reply. I could count the seconds, wide as raptor wings, but I don’t. Not this time.
‘Saturday,’ I say. ‘I’ll be ready.’
The things that matter the most can’t be counted anyway.