Page 141 of Take Me Away

‘She’s got a team of people helping her. Lawyers and publicists and⁠—’

‘We’re not her team, Dad.’ Maisie’s eyes are bright with tears now. Angry tears. Determined tears. ‘We’re her people. We’re her family. And family doesn’t let each other run away when they’re scared. You taught me that!’

The words hit like a wave.

We’re her people.

Not her team. Not her handlers. Not her professional support system.

Us.

Me and Maisie and this ridiculous village and the cottage she inherited and the jam recipe she learned and the life she was building here before the world exploded.

We’re her people.

And I let her run without fighting for her.

Again.

‘She told me she was staying,’ I say, voice rough. ‘She promised.’

‘So let’s go remind her she promised!’ Maisie’s on her knees now, bouncing slightly with urgency. ‘Let’s go to London and bring her home!’

‘What if she doesn’t want to come back?’ The question comes out quieter than I intended. ‘What if she doesn’t want us?’

Maisie looks at me like I’ve said the stupidest thing she’s ever heard.

‘Dad. She loves you. I saw her looking at you the way Mum used to look at you in the photos. Like you’re the best thing ever. And she loves me too. I know she does. She did my hair and made jam with me and she stayed even when everyone was sad about Mr Peter.’

‘She left though, Mais. This morning. Without saying goodbye.’

‘Because she was scared!’ Maisie’s frustration is palpable now. ‘Not because she doesn’t love us. Because she’s scared we won’t love her anymore after seeing those pictures. But we do love her. Right?’

I stare at my daughter – this small, fierce, impossibly wise human being – and something cracks open in my chest.

‘Yeah,’ I say hoarsely. ‘Yeah, I love her.’

‘Then we have to go tell her. We have to go get her.’ Maisie grabs my hand. ‘Please, Dad. We can’t just let her be sad and alone in London. We have to be brave.’

We have to be brave.

The words echo in my head.

I wasn’t brave ten years ago. I let her go to London alone. Let her face whatever demons were waiting there without me.

I wasn’t brave last night when she needed me most. Slept through her leaving, didn’t give her a chance to trust me with the truth.

But I can be brave now.

I can get in the truck with my daughter and drive to London and knock on Isla’s door and tell her exactly what Maisie just told me: we’re her people. We love her. We’re not letting her run away from that.

I look at Dad. He’s smiling – a small smile, but real.

‘What do you think?’ I ask him.

‘I think your daughter’s smarter than both of us.’ He stands, heads for the door. ‘I’ll watch the cottage. You two go get your girl.’

Maisie’s already scrambling off the bed. ‘I need to pack! And we should bring Mr Snuggles because Isla might need him. And maybe some of Grandad’s jam. And⁠—’