“I know, and I’m sorry. But I thought I could find someone to take care of you.”
“Well, you have found one. My dear Emily. Congratulations. You’ve found her. And now what? Drag me over there to have her personally ignore me?”
“She never got them. The house was sold. The letters came after she left. Some probably didn’t get through at all. That woman… she’s my mother.”
‘And you…’
‘I’m your daughter.’
Elliot leaned forward, hands trembling.
‘You’re my…’
“And she said that YOU left. That you left and never came back.”
“I was drafted into the service. I wrote to her. Every week. When I came home, she was gone. No note, no sign of her. Just…gone.”
‘The letters you sent earlier-they’re not in the box.’
He looked at his hands again, then at me.
‘You look like her.’
And just as I was about to reply, the door creaked open. We both turned round. Standing in the doorway was my mum, her eyes already filled with tears.
“I wasn’t going to come. But then I read your letters.”
Elliot stood up. Slower than usual. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘Now I know.’
I didn’t move. I just stared. At Mum and Dad. My voice cracked as I whispered,
‘Can we just… finally hold each other?’
We stood like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, heads resting on shaking shoulders. No one spoke. Each of us cried in silence. Thirty years flashed before our eyes.
But finally…we had all the time we needed.
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