‘You’re up early,’ she observed.
Elle opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out past the lump in her throat.
Pippa paused by the coffee table. ‘Hey,’ she said softly. ‘You look awful. Are you sick?’
Elle shook her head.
‘Have you been crying?’ Pippa’s eyes were on her as she walked around the table and sat next to her. ‘What’s the matter?’
Elle couldn’t hold back the tears and again they began to cascade down her face. Pippa opened her arms and Elle fell into them.
‘Come on, it can’t be that bad. How long have you been down here?’
‘Since the early hours.’
‘Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. We can sort it together,’ Pippa soothed in a calming voice.
‘It’s been a long night.’
‘And you’re cold,’ she said. ‘I’ll pop the kettle on, get you something warm to drink, then, if you want to, you can tell me all about it.’
A couple of minutes later, Pippa handed Elle a steaming hot mug of tea. ‘There’s two sugars in there,’ she said. ‘I think you need them.’
Elle nodded and cupped her hands around the mug. Pippa gave her a reassuring smile. ‘What can I do to help?’
Elle smiled at her with bleary eyes. ‘You’re a really good friend and you came into my life at just the right time, like Irene.’
Puzzled, Pippa didn’t take her eyes off Elle. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean? Do you want to tell me what is going on here?’
‘I think I probably do.’
Elle sipped her tea. Pippa remained silent.
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Try the beginning,’ Pippa urged gently.
‘There’s something I need to tell you about my mum.’
‘What about her?’
Elle hesitated before saying, ‘Irene is not my biological mum.’ She watched the look on Pippa’s face change as her words registered.
Elle picked up the writing competition leaflet. ‘Remember you said that you’d bet I was always top of my class, was the popular kid at school and had bundles of self-esteem? Far from it. Irene suggested I wrote my story and enter it into Sam Stone’s competition. She said it could inspire other young children that are going through the same situation I went through.’
Elle turned the laptop towards Pippa. ‘Here, read this.’
Pippa took the laptop off Elle and balanced it on her knees. Within seconds, she was in an emotional state, a tear sliding down her cheek as she continued to read. When she finished, she looked up, her eyes blurry. ‘Oh, Elle, I had no idea about any of this. You’ve kept it all well hidden.’
‘Until now.’
‘Your story is so sad but also so inspirational. This is emotional stuff and it’s written so well. It’s clear it’s come straight from the heart.’
‘Thank you. That’s what I was intending even though I’ve never written a thing in my life. I cried writing it and I feel exhausted, but I’m relieved to have got everything off my chest. Once I started to write, I couldn’t stop. It may be inspirational but it isn’t a childhood I’d have wished on anyone.’
‘Was it really difficult growing up?’ Pippa asked tentatively.
Elle nodded. ‘I’d see all the other children being dropped off in the playground by their parents. They’d be smothered in kisses and have their friends around for tea. I envied the bond they had. I was never mistreated or anything like that – I was always fed and watered – but I never felt like I belonged. It was more that I felt like I was an inconvenience, I suppose.’ Her voice faltered a little. ‘There was always a piece of me missing.’
