‘Are you sure you are okay Mum? Do you need anything? Water? A magazine? I can pop to the bakery and get you one of those pastries you like?’ I glance at my brother worriedly. ‘Is she allowed pastries? What did the doctor say about sugar and stuff like that?’
Mum is currently lying across the couch in Elliott and Darcie’s living room, where she’s been staying since her release. She has a soft knit blanket over her knees, one of many get well gifts that have been sent to her over the last week after word got out about her surgery. Her favourite soap flickers on the television screen, though the volume is low as she tends to get headaches from too much noise. I lean over her to tuck the blanket a little tighter around her, tugging it up to her chin as she giggles.
Her hand flutters through
