Page 48 of Where Broken Wings Fly

I’ve listened to every word and scrap of information that’s been given to me in the time we’ve spent hiding out here. Nothing is without struggle in the valley, but I’ve come to realise that the residents fight for the family they’ve chosen in this tree-lined paradise.

“Poppet?” Lola rests a careful hand on my shoulder.

Startled, I plaster on a smile. “Yeah?”

“You’re up late. Everything okay?”

“Oh, fine. Just tired. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” she replies, pocketing her phone in her apron. “I just wanted to make sure you’re feeling okay. I can get Doc to look you over?”

“I’m alright, Lola. You don’t need to worry.”

“Very well,” she submits, though her beady eyes still survey me. “I see Arianna is enjoying her new boots. I asked Albie to pick them up in town last week.”

“You’re spoiling her.”

Lola looks hopelessly sad as she looks away from me to watch Arianna dancing through the grass. It hurts me to see her grief. She hides it so well in front of everyone else.

“I didn’t get the chance to do any of this for you. All I ever wanted was to be a grandmother. It’s the least I can do now.”

Splashing into a disappearing rain puddle, Arianna soaks through the floral dress and tights she decided to wear. Lola sinks down on the step next to me, laughing at the mess she’s making of herself.

“She’s so beautiful. I see so much of your grandfather in her.”

“You do?” I glance at her.

“Oh, yes.” She presses her lips together, tears welling up in her eyes. “I wish he were here to see you come home. It would have meant the world to him.”

My throat thickens with emotion. “What was he like?”

Lola wipes under her eyes. “He was the love of my life. We met in the early sixties at a freedom march, calling for equal rights. I still remember the moment I saw him in his tie-dyed shirt and sunglasses.”

Looking down at her wrinkled hand, I note the wedding ring still in place, even after all these years. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Lola, it’s her steadfast devotion to everything she does. Including taking care of those she loves.

“Losing your dad broke his heart,” she chokes out.

A chill settles over me at the mention of my useless father. I wring my hands together, biting back the urge to tell her to stop, because a broken part of me wants to know what we missed out on for all these years.

“We loved your dad so much, but it wasn’t enough. We could barely make ends meet back in the early days of Briar Valley. He grew up and started mixing with the wrong crowd in the city. The drugs came later, and that was it.”

“I used to think he loved me,” I admit in a whisper. “Even when he forgot to feed me because he was too high, or when he sold my toys to buy more drugs. When he died and left me alone in the world, I realised I was wrong. He never did.”

“What happened, Willow?” Lola seizes hold of my hand. “The police called us, but we were too late. You were already gone. We searched everywhere, and there was nothing.”

“I didn’t want to end up in foster care, so I took off.”

She shakes her head, expression cracked with regret. “Oh, Willow. I sent that letter as a last resort, just in case you ever returned and found it.”

Fiddling with a loose thread in my cardigan, I shrug. “I ran as far and as fast as I could. Dad owed people money. I took to the streets instead, begging for scraps of food.”

“Christ,” she curses.

“When I thought it was safe to return home, I’d been homeless for nearly three months. I found your letter in the ruins of our home. A friend of his had turned it into a drug den.”

“Why didn’t you come?” Lola urges. “We would have looked after you.”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to find you. I was too angry with everyone.”

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