If any of us ever thinks our life is perfect, or that we ourselves are perfect, we should know that this is our imperfection. True joy is not found in enjoying the comfort and ease of a tranquil life. It’s found in seeing the darkness and realising how much light there is in everything else.

Matt’s not perfect. Nor am I. Then again, I wouldn’t want him to be. I spent too long searching for perfection, only to find it comes wrapped in false platitudes. Ones which nearly cost me my life. No-one needs to be perfect. And no-one needs other people to be happy. The traditional boy-meets-girl doesn’t always work.

Life isn’t a fairytale, nor should it ever be one. Not in the conventional sense, anyway. Fairytales aren’t perfect. Most of them consist of fighting against death and evil, coming through the other side battle-scarred and weary, and with both considerable personal loss and spiritual gain.

If that’s the case, let this be my fairytale.

60

Friday 24 April

We’re friends. We’ll see what’s there. Neither of us is in any rush. Not anymore. In any case, I’ve come to realise that I don’t need anything more than that. Sure, it’s nice to have, but it’s not what defines my happiness. It’s something that was always there, and which I always thought I needed, but I was wrong. I can be happy.

My suitcase clatters along the uneven paving as we walk towards the terminal, and I look forward to the adventure that awaits me. We won’t be gone long. A month or so. We’ll play it by ear.

I gave it another fortnight for work to get back to me with a conclusion. They didn’t, so I told them to shove it. The last thing I needed was the uncertainty, and it soon became apparent I had more important things to worry about.

Dad doesn’t seem best pleased, but he’s clearly more comfortable than he lets on. He and Mum have given us the money to go — an advance on Nan’s inheritance. Even he can see that sometimes it’s better to just live and let live.

It might sound strange, but I’ve barely thought about what went on before. What good could it possibly do me? There are reminders, of course, but I try to push them out of my mind and focus on the future. That’s the only way anyone is going to be able to move forward. And we all need to move forward.

The police were successful in charging Tom on both counts. He’s on remand, awaiting a court date. DI McKenna thinks I’ll have to give evidence, and in a strange way I’m looking forward to it. I could worry and panic and focus on the negatives. I could concern myself with having to come face to face with him again, having to be in the same room as him. But I’m not. What good would it do me? I’m framing it as my opportunity to ensure justice is done.