Page 123 of True North

My darling Harry,

I know you would tell me it’s morbid to write letters to people while you’re still alive and well. But, just in case, because this is too important, I am doing it anyway.

I know you have worked yourself ragged to keep me housed and fed over the last decade. I also know you think it is expected of a son to do so for his mother. I disagree.

I have wished every day for things to change for the better.

I’d almost given up hope. Then, one morning, as I trawled the aisles of the grocer, she appeared.

Your Louisa.

I can’t tell you how happy that made this old lady’s heart, my sweet boy.

Because her being here with you, I have a feeling about this, is the key to everything changing.

Everything.

Now, I can’t promise I’ll be here to see the two of you through it all, but I want you to know I have done everything in my power to make sure you stand a chance at this life you want so badly. So, you give it your best shot.

I’ll be watching. Good things are coming your way, mark my words.

And I love you more than life itself. You are the best thing I have ever done.

Ma xx

P.S. You make sure Louisa gets my letter.

P.P.S. What you’re needing is in the small velvet box, top right drawer. You’ll know when it’s time.

Moisture drops onto the page. The air in my lungs fights its way upward past the stone occluding my throat. I swipe at my face as tears fall, drenching my stubbled jaw. I fold the paper in half and return it to the envelope. It slips from my hand onto the bed. Louisa’s sits in my lap.

Staring at the wall, I slide off the end of the bed to the floor. I work a finger under the flap of Louisa’s envelope. I shouldn’t read it.

It’s to her from Ma.

It’s not for me.

But I can’t help myself. It’s the last bit of her left behind. Reading her words is like hearing her voice.

I flip the flap open and slide the letter out. I open the paper with a hand and skim over the curvy handwriting. I won’t look at it properly. Just a quick look.

That’s what I tell myself.

The quick skim screeches to a halt when I see my father’s name.

That’s the last person I thought Ma would be writing Lou about.

When I comprehend the sentence in full, the letter falls from my hand.

Fuckin’ hell, Ma.

ChapterThirty-One

LOUISA

“Honey, I’m home!” I coo as I slip in the front door and shut it quickly to stave off the winter chill. “Brr, it’s damn cold outside.”

I kick off my shoes and pad to the kitchen in my socks. I tug the refrigerator door open and pull out the sweet tea. God knows I could use some.

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