Mum opens her front door and Derek steps out. I reach for the keys to restart the engine but my hand stops before I turn the ignition. I think about Susan, and the near on forty years of pain she buried deep inside. I think about James, and the same years of not knowing. I think about the baby, left for the church to find him, to rescue him, to give him a new life. To give me a new life. I look back to Mum, the woman who took on that responsibility. Selflessly. Against the odds. More than once. I think about the pain she feels every day knowing David is no longer here.

And how Derek has helped her smile again.

I get out of the car. Mum looks up. ‘Rhys,’ she says, looking at her watch. ‘It’s late, is everything okay?’

‘It’s fine, yeah… I was just feeling… I just needed to come home,’ I say. ‘Is that… I could leave, if not.’ I motion to the van, crossing my fingers that she’ll say it’s fine.

‘Of course it’s okay,’ she answers without question. ‘Come in, love, Derek was just leaving.’ She gives him a look and he nods.

‘Yup, on my way home. Totally lost track of time.’ He smiles.

‘Derek,’ I say. As I get closer, something inside makes me hold my hand out to shake his. He returns the offer and we share an unspoken moment. Acceptance? ‘Your Mum says she wants her beauty sleep. She won’t believe me when I tell her she doesn’t need it.’ She playfully hits his arm and he catches her hand to kiss. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ he says. ‘Goodnight, Rhys.’

We watch in silence as he walks down the road, around the corner and out of view. ‘No car?’ I say.

‘Bus,’ she answers, and we fall back into a heavy silence. In the distance, I can hear the main road. Some kids larking about a few streets away. The sky is clear enough, a few stars glinting above, and I am reminded how tiny we are. How insignificant.

‘I put clean bedding on yours today. I must have known,’ says Mum, stepping back into the house and waiting for me to follow. I step inside, inhaling the familiar smell and sensation of home. And Mum. And security. It all envelops me, wraps me up. ‘You want to talk about it?’ she asks. I realise I don’t. Not because I can’t, or won’t ever, but because I need time to digest the news myself before I tell her. I need to see how I feel. I need to believe and trust what I know and feel. I shake my head. ‘Tea?’ she offers. I shake my head again.

‘I think I’ll just…’ I half motion upstairs, my energy fast depleting.

‘Okay, love,’ she says. I bend into the hug she pulls me in for, squeezing me tight like she did when I was a kid. She kisses my shoulder, then reaches up to ruffle my hair. ‘I’m very proud of who you are, Rhys Woods,’ she says as I climb the stairs.