My brother Ash put a large lidded box down in front of me, the sides of it hand-designed places in Puffin Bay.
I frowned, surprised. I’d lived in this house until I was eighteen, returning a few times after, usually when friendships or relationships had broken down and I needed somewhere safe to lick my wounds. I knew every inch of the place, or so I thought. I hadn’t come across this box before.
“Where did you find it?”
“Mum’s studio.”
“Why were you in Mum’s studio?” I sent him a look that would make most grown men weep.
It didn’t have that effect on Ash. Nothing most people did had an effect on Ash. He was the mini-version of our dad, but with more brash.
Brashy-Ashy. I’d have to call him that later.
“I was looking for a photo she’d printed. One from the gig the other week.” He sounded grumpy now.
“Need to stare at yourself to make sure you’re still pretty? Mirrors not doing it for you anymore?” There wasn’t much I liked doing more than tormenting Ash, apart from when we both ganged up on Jasper, our youngest brother. He was currently in Madrid, which meant he’d completely gotten away with the surprise we were doing for Mum when our parents got back from New Orleans.
“Fuck off. Are you going to look in the box or not?”
“Why haven’t you looked in it?”
“Because it’s got your name on it, idiot. Some fucking detective you are.” He sat down next to me and pulled the lid off, peering in.
I’d bucked the family trend for creative careers and joined the police straight after completing my master’s in criminology and psychology, joining the Met and moving to London permanently. My dad hadn’t been pleased to say the least, given I was his precious daughter and I was choosing a career that was going to put me in the way of dangerous criminals. He’d be even less thrilled when he found out I’d been given the opportunity of joining a specialist murder squad, but he wouldn’t be finding that out for a while, unless Ash managed to drop me in it.
Always a possibility.
I pushed Ash’s head out of the way and pulled out a handful of envelopes. There were numbers on each, as if that was the order I was meant to read them in.
“What are they?” Ash tried to yank one out of my hand.
“Mine. Get your paws off them. Maybe you’ve got a box somewhere too. Or maybe you’re not special enough for one.” I really did revert to being a kid again when I was with Ash.
“I have thousands of adoring fans who think I’m special.” He shot me a grin I’d seen on both posters and gossip columns.
I shook my head. “Remember I saw you in the bath when we were kids. You’re not that special.”
Ash just laughed. “This has number one on it. Read this first.”
For maybe the third time in my life, I did what Ash said. The enveloped was addressed to Moon, which was what my parents had called me before I was born. It was also unsealed, which made me feel less bad about opening it.
Ash read from over my shoulder.
Dear Moon,
Sorry about the name. Your mam and I couldn’t think of a better one for you while we decide on what to call you – which we still haven’t, by the way, and you’re due to arrive any time soon.
I’ve been writing letters to your mam for years now and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I decided I should probably start writing them to you as well, because there’ll be a time when you don’t want to talk to me, probably when you’re about thirteen, unless you want something. But they’ll also be there for you to read when you’re a grown up and maybe I’m old or not around anymore, because one day that will happen. You can read the letters I sent your mam and know something of our story and how you came to be.
You were always very much wanted and your story isn’t the same as your cousins Elias’ or Elsie’s – ask Uncle Finn about that. Whatever you choose to do, whoever you become, I will love you until the end of time.
I’m waiting for you to be born now, because you’re due today, but you’re not here yet and I don’t think today’s going to be your birthday, if I’m honest. I think we have another couple of days of me pacing round the house like a hen on hot brickswaiting for your mam to go through something horrible and then for you to take your first breaths.
I can’t wait.
I can’t wait to meet you.
I couldn’t wait to meet you.
