“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“I really wouldn’t worry, Ria. Werner was looking for peace and quiet. He didn’t want to be bothered by work calls when he was in England either. Anyway, speaking of work, I have to go. I got to the hospital a few minutes ago, and my shift is about to start. As soon as I hear anything from Werner, I’ll let you know. But honestly, Ria, there’s no reason to be worried. I’m not.”

Helen got out of the car. Two colleagues walked past, greeting her. She smiled, then pretended that an important message had just arrived on her phone. For appearance’s sake, she reread one of the messages that she and Lex had exchanged over the past few days. She felt tense, but she still couldn’t help smiling.

Only once her colleagues were out of sight did she walk to the back of her Fiat and open the trunk. She took a deep breath.

“Well, here we go,” she whispered, before lifting out two heavy yellow shopping bags. As she walked toward the staff entrance, she felt the chill emanating from them through the thick fabric of her jeans.

Mother Dear

Mother Dear,

This summer, it will have been eight years since you passed away. Your absence feels different now from how it felt in the beginning. Different, but not less. What I didn’t fully understand back then was that, when you died, I lost the last person in the world who loved me selflessly. Somebody who would always take my side, whatever I did. You once said to me, “Mothers love their children more than their children love them. That’s natural, and it’s how things should be.” You were probably right, just as you were right with so many other things.

I wasn’t always very understanding toward you, Mother. I regret that. When I remember our arguments, I cringe with shame. I was always so critical of you.

I often blamed you for splitting up with Father. I was jealous of friends who had a normal family life, and I focused on what I didn’t have instead of all the things you gave me. Only now can I see that it’s sometimes better to grow up without a father. And that your feelings about Werner were correct—though you could never have predicted any of this. Who could? It’s pure luck that I’m still alive.