mutuality | wroetoshaw

forty

"My baby," are the first words that come from my mum's mouth, wrapping in a bone-shattering hug, her arms snaking around me, feeling like they never want to let me go again.

Harry and I had travelled back to my home town, two days after touching down in London again. We'd slept most of the time away, catching up on missed sleep because God knew we both needed it.

The minute the jet lag had started to wear off, Harry had been up and packing more bags for us to leave for a couple of weeks.

Admittedly, I had been a bit useless, mostly staying in bed, reading books I'd been too busy to start.

He'd signed us both off of work for four weeks to start with. I had no idea how long I'd stay at home for, but he'd told me repeatedly it didn't matter. In his words, it was a "future me problem that present me doesn't care to solve."

He'd then proceeded to drive us both down in his car, saving my parents travelling up and down again. They were more than happy that he was coming too — partly because they liked him like he was part of the family, which at this point he was; but also because they knew how much he meant to me, and how supportive he'd been.

"I missed you," I whisper into her arms, and from the corner of my eye I see my dad and Harry briefly embrace which means so much to me.

"I know you're probably tired, your bedroom is all set up. We'll take your things upstairs," she mumbles into my hair, still holding me protectively.

"Thanks, mum. I'm exhausted, and I slept on the way down. I feel like all I'm doing at the minute is sleeping," I confess, leaving out the part that doing so sets me free from thinking about that night. Being asleep is the one time I feel genuine peace and freedom — until the nightmares start, that is.

She finally lets me go, reluctantly, that is, and Harry walks over, taking my hand. He's got a suitcase in one hand, and a rucksack on his back, and still making sure he's right by my side.

"Let me grab something," I offer, but both my parents and Harry all shake their heads, busying themselves with picking up various bits of luggage.

"Don't be silly. Come on, we'll follow you up," mum instructs, and we go into the house, walking up the stairs.

It's very quiet, which isn't too surprising considering that Charlotte, Matt and Eliza are at their own house, Georgie is on holiday for her birthday and Archie is also at his own place. The only person who should be here is Ella.

"Is Ella here?" I ask, and my mum replies from behind me on the stairs.

"Uh, yeah. She's...not in the greatest of moods. Her and Ryan broke up," she tells me, and I wish I was shocked, but I wasn't.

"Again?" I question, finally reaching the top of the stairs.

"I've said the same thing to her. Anyway, she might pop in to say hi later. I've been checking on her every hour or so, I think it's really done this time," she explains to me, and I do feel for her. Regardless of my feelings about Ryan, she was in love with him, so it was bound to hurt.

"Alright. I might go and pop my head in now, because I am really tired and want to sleep. H...I'll meet you in my room," I whisper, kissing his cheek and letting go of his hand, heading towards Ella's room.

I knock on the door, and wait for a second.

"Mum, I love you but I don't need you to keep checking on me every five -" she starts, opening the door until she sees it's me, and not mum.

Her face drops a little, and then wraps her arms around me, with yet again another tight hug.

"Tilda," she says breathlessly, sounding strangely emotional about it.