And I had wanted to go—in a way, I still did. Ted probably wouldn’t let me change my dates off—our annual leave got locked in early—so I might as well spend it in the stunning beauty of Transylvania instead of sitting at home, the curtains drawn, watching Below Deck with Crunchie.

‘On paper, this seems awkward,’ Taryn said. ‘But I think the three of us would still get a lot out of it.’

‘You’re absolutely right,’ I said. ‘The three of us are going and we will have a magical time.’

Buoyed by that positivity, I switched off my phone and took Chalkie to an interview room for our last one-to-one. And it was so encouraging. He’d gleaned a huge amount of new information about himself during his time here; somehow he’d gone way deeper than he ever had before.

After we’d role-played some situations where he’d have to manage his anger or grief, we stood to say goodbye.

‘You know how fond of you I am,’ I said. ‘But I do not want to see you ever again.’

‘But’, he said, with a sweet twinkle, ‘you might.’

At my startled silence, he prompted, ‘Right?’

In my five years in the Cloisters, this had never happened before.

‘You’re in recovery, amirite?’ he prompted.

I laughed. ‘Yeah.’ There wasn’t much point denying it.

‘Down through the years, a lot of good, hard-working people have tried to help me. You’re the one who broke me open.’

‘Just doing my job.’

‘Na-ah. You go the extra mile.’

For a moment I thought my heart would actually crack with gratitude. Despite my many mistakes, Chalkie was saying that there was a reason for me.

He spread his arms wide. ‘Is this…okay?’

I stepped into the hug. Silent tears slid down my face for Chalkie, the little lost boy.

‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice thick.

‘Oh my God no, Chalkie! Thank you.’

83

‘Yara…’ Helplessly, I pleaded with my cherry-blossom tree. ‘Sweetie? Where are your flowers? It’s the middle of May, what are you doing with them?’

Turning, I caught sight of Devin’s face at the kitchen window. He looked concerned.

‘All grand here,’ I called at him. ‘Just talking to…’ My dead daughter? A tree? Take your pick.

‘Okay.’ As if he were on castors, Devin retreated from view, seeming even more freaked out.

Once he’d gone, I resumed the chat. ‘Seriously, what’s the story?’ I gestured at the tiny beige buds. ‘Is it more rain you’re waiting for? Warmer temperatures?’

But Yara’s voice—or the voice that I ‘heard’ in my head—remained silent. And it was very frustrating because, until this tree bloomed, there was no excuse to contact Luke.

In the kitchen, Kate asked carefully, ‘Are you okay?’