‘OK. There’s a girl I work with, Gemma. I was telling her how you’ve come to live with us…’
My ears started ringing. Had my sister been broadcasting my bonfire of a life around the whole hospital?
‘Don’t worry, I kept details to a minimum,’ said Cass, noticing my frown. ‘Anyway, she told me about this place she lived at for a while. It’s somewhere people can go when they’ve run out of road.’
‘A homeless shelter?’
‘No. More like community living.’
‘A cult?’
‘No. Come on,’ said Cass, shaking her head, ‘you said you’d let me finish. It’s not a homeless shelter, it’s not a cult either. Like I said, it’s community living. Gemma explained it better than I am. She said it feels like an extended family. They take people in who need a bit of time and space to figure things out. Some stay for a few days, some have been there for years.’
‘How much does it cost?’
‘Whatever you can afford. If you can’t afford to pay anything, you contribute in other ways: gardening, maintenance, cooking, cleaning. Gemma says everyone mucks in in whatever way they can.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Mid Cornwall, so only an hour away.’
‘What about Bertie?’
‘If everything Gemma said is true, he’d love it.’
‘I need to get him into a school.’
‘I know, but he’s young and intelligent. A few more weeks of missed education won’t harm him in the long run.’
‘Won’t it just delay the mounting decisions I need to make?’
‘Another way of looking at it is it will give you the time and space you need to figure things out.’
‘What if it’s awful?’
‘I thought we could have a look at it this afternoon, if you’re keen?’
‘I’m not sure keen’s the right word…’
‘Great. I’ll finish my coffee, have a shower, then we’ll set off.’
Cass carried her coffee upstairs and left me at the kitchen table. Bertie wandered in from the garden where he’d spent the past hour kicking a football against a wall. He hadn’t spoken a word to me since I told him the truth, and the distance between us, however temporary, hurt my heart.
Bertie put his football in the basket beside the door and crossed the room. I thought he’d walk right past, but he stopped in front of me, climbed onto my lap and began sobbing into my hair.
‘Oh my darling boy,’ I said, unable to stop my own tears from breaking free. ‘Everything will be all right.’
‘I… I… hate Dad,’ sniffed Bertie, gulping down the sadness that rocked his body. ‘I hate him.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I said. ‘Dad’s got himself into a horrible muddle, but I’m sure wherever he is, he’s trying to fix things.’
‘But he ran away.’
I had no idea how to respond, for Bertie was right. Rob had run away. He’d run away and left his wife and child to pick up the pieces, the shattered remains of the life we’d once lived. ‘He’ll come back,’ I said, not knowing if it was true, or even if I wanted it to be.
Bertie’s gulping sobs had reduced to snotty sniffles. He even managed a giggle after I protested against him wiping his nose on my shirt.
‘Jake doesn’t want me sharing a room with him,’ said Bertie, his voice tiny and broken.
