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“Life is fragile, and I know you would. I just want you to know how much I love you for being in my life too. Remember that.”

“We’re a team,” I said, overwhelmed again. With love. Gratitude. “I love you, Jen. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too. I know we never say it, but I do. Now, can we go back to being boss and PA again before I lose the plot and burst into tears? I’ve got kids to sort, a proposal to email to HR before nine, and I need to ring legal before they swamp me. I will speak to you later.”

Propping Felicia on her hip, she stood, grabbed the bag off the sofa and walked to the door, pausing for me to prop Frazer on her other hip.

“Speak later,” I said.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

There were a lot of unspoken things in those two words. Things we didn’t need to say out loud. Our relationship had shifted today, I knew. Jenny and I were family, and now I had Mabel too. And it dawned on me how blind I’d been in my depressive, anxious state to how incredibly good my life was.

After Jenny had gone, I dressed quietly and poured myself a coffee. Then I spent an inordinate amount of time standing in the bedroom doorway, watching Mabel sleep. Their very presence calmed me…the same way as holding a baby on my lap had, the peace in my chest setting me up for the day.

Smiling, I turned away and headed for my office as the city around me slowly came to life.

27. Mabel

Life went on the same way it always had, but somehow completely different. I went back home, sorted out my parents, did the shopping, watched TV with my dad and chatted with the carers. I spent hours sitting with my mother, stroking her fragile skin. Her rattled breathing, once a source of dread, now comforted me. It was a sign that everything was stable. This was as good as it was going to get.

“She’s lived a good life,” Dad said, shuffling in behind me. “She hasn’t got long, you know that. There’ll come a day when she stops making these noises, and all three of us know that day will be a blessing—the end of the way things are.”

“Don’t say that, Dad,” I snipped out without meant to, but I hated it when he reminded me of the inevitable.

“They’ve asked to move her again. Take her to the hospice so she can be more comfortable. She still cries out in pain through the night, and the night carer isn’t happy. She should be on a morphine drip.”

“I agree,” I said, hating those words.

“I didn’t want to. I want her to be at home.”

“I know you do, Dad,” I said, wishing I could reach out and comfort him in his distress.

“You and me. It’s up to us. Mum… I wish she could tell us what she wants. Some days, I wonder if this is truly what she wanted. Or if I should…”

“Dad.” I knew where his thoughts were heading and wouldn’t let him go there. “You’ve been the best husband. Mum loved you to the moon and back. And see? I’ve had the most brilliant upbringing. The best life, too, because you and Mum…you didn’t always know what you were doing, and dealing with me wasn’t easy.”

“You? You were so easy, Mabel. Remember?”

“What?” I smiled. I couldn’t stop smiling because Dad was smiling.

“When you married the idiot. I was so proud of you. So incredibly proud. Then it all went wrong, and guess what? I was even prouder because I didn’t raise an idiot. I raised an incredibly smart child who made good choices. And look at you now. Well…maybe you’re still a bit of an idiot because I still don’t see a contract for a rental or an offer of employment.”

“Dad.” I sighed, but he just wiped his eye.

“I’m still proud of you. Of everything you’ve done. And I know when Mother decides that the time is right, you and I can cope with that. We know what to do, don’t we?”

I stroked my mother’s hand, holding on to her fragile fingers. “We have a plan. Mum wrote everything down.”

“She did. And what else, Mabel?”

“She wants us to be happy. Live. Love. And not be twats.”

“Not be twats,” Dad agreed. “So we’ll do what’s best.”

“Shall I ring the carers? Say that we agree she should go to the hospice?”

“I think that’s for the best,” Dad said quietly. “Now go make that call and leave me with Mum so I can talk to her. And while you’re at it, make me a cup of tea. And I want soup for lunch. Not the tinned stuff. The stuff in pots.”

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