‘Okay, good idea. But you do need a bit more than that, for it to be worthy of the Dream List. What other ideas have you got?’
‘Um, to be honest, Steph, I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call you back.’
For the first time since I’d got a phone for my thirteenth birthday, I hung up on her. By the time I’d slipped my phone away, Joan was already pressing the intercom buzzer for the door to the ward.
* * *
In the end, neither of us had to find the gumption to bring it up. As soon as she saw Joan, Leanne’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern.
‘What’s up, Diamanté Butterfly?’ she asked, leaning forwards in the hospital armchair.
Joan looked straight at me.
‘You look good today. How are you feeling? Great to see you out of bed!’ I garbled, causing Leanne’s eyes to shrink into slits.
‘It’s my liver that’s malfunctioning, not my brain. Stop wittering and tell me what’s going on.’
Oh boy. Here we go.
All the introductions and lead-ups and half-baked explanations that had been swirling around my head evaporated.
‘Your parents are here.’
Leanne froze, her hand gripping Joan’s so tightly that she winced. Then all at once, it was as though every bone in her body turned to liquid. She collapsed against the back of the chair, face draining to a stark white, eyes blank, mouth slack.
I held my breath, clueless as to whether Leanne’s shock was going to flip into anger, or melt into tears. But her daughter did indeed know her mother far better than me. After a few seconds, Joan picked up her hand. ‘It’s true, Mum. They’re really here, and they really want to see you.’
‘You found them?’ Leanne whispered, still staring at nothing.
‘Ollie’s friend Sam helped us. He’s a ranger.’
‘And they’rehere?’
‘Yes!’
‘They want to see me?’
‘They’re desperate to see you,’ I added. ‘They’ve missed you more than you can imagine.’
‘No,’ Leanne said slowly. ‘I don’t have to imagine.’ She paused, shook her head, finally managed to pull her gaze back into focus, and fixed it on me. ‘They’re really here?’
‘YES!’ Joan shouted, tugging on her mum’s hand. ‘Let’s go and get them!’
Leanne turned to look at her daughter, face scrunched in bewilderment. ‘Okay.’
When we arrived back ten minutes later, Leanne had pulled a hoodie over the top of her pyjamas and tucked her lank hair behind her ears. She looked all of the sixteen years old she’d been when she last saw her parents.
I stepped back, one arm around Joan as Carole and Peter approached the bay.
‘Oh,oh!’ As soon as Carole saw where Leanne was sitting, she launched herself across the remaining few metres past two pairs of beds on either side, bag flying behind her with the contents spilling. Stopping right in front of the chair, she sank slowly to her knees before reaching up with one tentative hand to stroke her daughter’s wan, tear-streaked cheek.
‘My darling girl.’
‘Mum.’ Leanne clasped her mother’s hand, pressing it tight against her jutting cheekbone.
Then Peter reached them, the strewn contents of Carole’s bag that he’d gathered along the way quickly dumped on the bed as he bent to enfold his daughter inside fifteen years of waiting and hoping.
‘Dad.’
