Back Just for December Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR LAURA JANE WILLIAMS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. Publishing Credits
  51. Keep Reading …
  52. About the Author
  53. Fiction by the same author
  54. About the Publisher

‘Ms Gilbert?’ a polite-sounding woman says, but Evie can already tell it’s Bluebell Assisted Living from her caller ID and the subsequent thudding in her chest. She sees that name and her automatic reaction is to panic, because it’s never good. It’s never good, and it’s also never anything Evie can do much about. That isn’t a fair combination.

‘Is she okay?’ Evie asks, instead of giving a polite greeting back. Every call they give her starts with her heart in her throat, because every call could be the one where they say the worst has happened. She should give them that feedback: Hey, guys, instead of saying hello when I pick up could you open with ‘Your mother is not dead. Is now a good time to talk?’

‘She’s okay,’ the woman says, understanding the concern. ‘This is Polly, Evie. We’ve met a few times, if you remember.’

‘Polly,’ Evie repeats. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry. I don’t mean to be abrupt.’ She gulps a lungful of air, trying to tell her body it can calm down. ‘And it’s Bird. Mom is Mrs Gilbert, but I’m Ms Bird.’

‘Of course,’ Polly says. ‘And don’t apologise one bit. I get it. Everyone is the same when they know it’s us.’ There’s a beat. Then Polly continues: ‘She’s fine,’ she reiterates, ‘but I did just want to let you know that she’s sprained her wrist after a fall. She got spooked by one of the new assistants and toppled over a chair. Her wrist is bandaged, but she’s anxious, talking to herself, like she does.’

‘Yeah, it calms her. She … she used to be an editor. Books. Is she telling a story under her breath? Sometimes she makes things up about when I was little, or remembers meetings with her old authors and gives everyone notes,’ Evie rambles, knowing that Polly knows all this.

‘Yes, that’s it. It’s been a few hours of it now,’ Polly continues. Evie realises she’s next in line to board the plane, pointing to her phone and mouthing sorry to the air steward checking her paperwork. The man nods, like he understands. ‘And she has indeed calmed down – it obviously works for her. We’ll keep a close eye on her, but with the injury we just wanted to let you know.’