I will be at St. Matthew’s Hospice until I am no longer able to receive visitors. You owe me nothing. If none of you come, I will understand.
Emma stared at the number like it might disappear.
Claire asked the question none of us wanted to face.
“Do we go?”
“No,” Sophie said instantly.
“I don’t know,” Emma whispered.
Claire turned to me. “Dad? What do you think?”
For twenty-one years, I had rehearsed what I would say if Vanessa ever came back. Speeches in the shower. Arguments in the car. Every one of them felt useless now.
“I think she doesn’t get to make this decision too,” I said.
They waited.
“She decided when to leave. She decided when not to come back. She decided when to send those boxes.” I looked at each of my daughters in turn. “This one belongs to you.”
The Woman in the Bed
Sophie didn’t go.
