Just The Way You Are(63)

I nodded. ‘I agree. Although might is an important word, here. They might have had a terrible fight that means they’ve been trying to pretend she doesn’t exist, too. Your mum talks about the odd good thing, but there might have been lots of bad things that happened growing up as well, and that’s why she never wants to talk about them.’

Joan nodded. ‘I know that. I know how horrible people can be, Ollie. I’m not getting my hopes up that this is going to be like some film where there’s a big, happy reunion and everything is perfect. I probably won’t even find them, and if I do I might wish I hadn’t. But it has to be worth a try.’

‘I agree. We could maybe speak to the social worker about it?’

Joan shuddered. ‘No, thank you. She talks to me like I’m only ten or something. I’m going to find them myself. Although you can help if you want to.’

I did want to. Joan’s calm, wise answers were one thing in theory – I knew how complicated family ties could be in practice, and there was no way I was letting her go down this road without me.

‘Are you going to tell your mum?’

She pulled her head back and squinted at me as though I’d asked if she was going to start the grandparent search on the moon. ‘Er, didn’t you hear the doctor say that Mum needed to stay calm and not worry?’

‘Fair enough. After dinner, we can pack up those things she asked us to bring to the hospital, and I need to figure out the logistics for tomorrow. Before we go and see Mum I have two ReadUp coaching sessions in the library; if you don’t mind coming along, you can make the most of my library card.’

‘Excellent! A perfect opportunity to start my research!’





I waited until Joan was snuggled up in bed before allowing the thought that had been simmering in the back of my brain to boil over. Ebenezer had summed it up in his note: Being without one’s mother can be difficult.

Leanne had gone years without speaking to her parents. Was that a deliberate decision from the outset – had she walked away, intending it to be the last time? Or had she hoped to make them stew for a bit before the inevitable reconciliation, only things happened and time slipped past and then one day the distance had grown too vast to find her way back?

How would I feel if Karina or Aunty Linda called to tell me that Mum was ill, in hospital, and she might never recover?

Would I regret every week, every day I’d missed the chance to speak to her, to let her in on my new life?

Or would the lessons I’d learnt without her ensure that we could then move forwards in a way that was so much better, we’d both be grateful for the time apart?

I did know that if she got hit by a bus tomorrow, and her last words to me had been begging me not to leave, I would probably never forgive myself.

I picked up my phone, put it down again. Picked it up, unblocked her number, then hurriedly blocked it again as though her mum powers would be able to detect my actions from several miles away. In the end, realising that calling her while unable to stop crying was probably not the best idea, I sent a text to Karina asking how things were. Five minutes later, a reply:

All good! We’re at the theatre watching Jeeves and Wooster! How are you?





How am I? Lost, lonely, heartsick for the little girl asleep upstairs and my friend, who can’t even get to the toilet without help. Wondering what on earth I’m doing, and how I can possibly help.

And then I thought again, and sent Karina an answer that was equally as true:

I’m doing okay, thanks. Getting better every day.





I would call Mum one day, when I was strong enough, secure enough to handle it.

One day.





Steph was not happy. She’d left multiple messages by the time I found a spare minute to call her.

‘What’s the plan, Ollie?’

‘They aren’t sure yet. The results have come back mixed. Leanne’s all clear for cancer, thank goodness, but her liver is not great. She can probably come home in the next few days, but it depends how well she responds to the medication.’

Steph interrupted with a snap. ‘Diane at children’s services said Joan is living with you.’

‘She is.’

‘And that you’d be happy to provide support to her mother for as long as she needed it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Which, from what I can tell, is currently indefinitely.’

‘Well, obviously we’re hoping that things will get a lot better…’

‘Remind me again, caring for a sick woman and child is what number on the Dream List?’

I sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Why would you even ask that?’

Having a friend to stay: item ten.

‘Because you need to see what’s happening here. You made a momentous change so that you could stop continuously prioritising someone else over your own dreams and happiness.’

‘What?’ I was utterly blindsided, my eyes stinging as they held back tears of hurt and humiliation.

‘You’ve severed one highly dysfunctional relationship and almost immediately reattached yourself to someone else who needs taking care of. This need to be needed is precisely why you decided to follow the No-Man Mandate and have the Dream List rules in place, to ensure this didn’t happen.’