Chapter One - 'leave the weeping to the willow tree'

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What's it like to be left behind?

Ellie's heart sighed as she scanned through the letter, a messy scrawl of childish handwriting written on pale pink notepaper. Her five-year-old daughter's messages never failed to amuse her - nor did they ever fail to bring a tear to her deep brown eyes.

Beside her sat her other letters, one from her son, the other a more sophisticated piece from her teenage daughter, Kathryn. Every week when they arrived they bought her great joy, and every week when they were deemed 'lost in the post' she died inside a little. But then again, it was her choice. She didn't have to leave them all behind.

Beside her, Laura, a colleague pulled a face. “Any news?” she asked, dropping her own letters in a pile on her lap.

“The usual,” Ellie said with a strong smile. “Lucy lost a tooth and seems to think she's queen of the world or something. Daniel's finally settling into high school, and Kath's as fed up as usual.”

Laura gave a little laugh. “Nothing's changed there, then.”

Ellie shook her head and consulted her watch. Ten minutes until dinner, until more briefing, more training, more running, more thinking and more information piled upon her. Maybe she was getting too old for all of it. In army terms, thirty-seven was getting on a bit, after all.

“You going to write back?” Laura asked, looking up from her own handiwork.

Ellie sighed. “I can't. I'm much too tired, I'll write next week or something.”

Laura's eyebrow arched, “Just say a little something so they know you're okay.”

“They'll know that,” Ellie replied nonchalantly. “They're kids, Worrying about me isn't on their agenda.”

Then, pulling her clumpy army boots on, Ellie stood up and made her way over to the door. “Trust me.” she added in response to Laura's skeptical glance, “I know my own children.”

In a small village, in the middle of the UK, Kath gave another frustrated snort. “The post doesn't come on Saturdays, Luce.” she said rolling her eyes.

“But it might,” Lucy insisted, standing on her tiptoes to look out the window.

“It won't,” Kath repeated firmly, “It never does.”

“It could!” Lucy wailed in protest. Scowling out of the window, she let out a huff and began to sniff very loudly. “Is it coming?” she asked in despair.

Rolling her eyes, Kath shook her head and consulted her watch. Seeing her little sister's distraught face, she flicked herself off the sofa and over to the little blond girl who was now almost crying. “Listen, Luce,” she said in a cheery voice, “Mum doesn't always have the time to write. She's got a very busy job shooting all the bad guys and you know that. That's doesn't mean she doesn't love you, and it doesn't mean she's not okay.”

Lucy nodded through her tears. “She's fighting all the nasty guys? But she's a good fighter, so she'll be okay?”

“That's right,” Kath agreed, forcing the sarcasm out of her voice, “Our mum's a hero.”

That was all it took to make Lucy beam. A wild grin on her face, she bounced onto her feet, “When she gets home she'll get a big gold medal!” she cried, turning and running up the stairs, her face still streaked with the start of tears.

Now left alone, Kath stood up forcefully, pushing her dirty blond hair out of her eyes, then monitoring her watch once again. Almost time. Smoothing out her skirt, she checked her appearance in the mirror, and headed to the kitchen where her dad and step-mum were deep in discussion.

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