When we reach the car park, Liam’s car is closest. Once beside the vehicle I put down Georgia’s bags to give her a hug.
‘Come to ours for a cup of tea,’ Liam says. ‘I’m sure Helene would love to catch up.’ He steps forward and says quietly, ‘Then you can whisk her away when you can’t bear it any longer.’
‘Okay,’ I agree, and then I wave them off. Once they are gone, I collect Georgia’s bags and hurry to my car.
For the first time in a long time, I am hopeful for the future. Callum and I are talking. We are slowly redefining what love might mean for us now: our deep familiarity, our troubles and our triumphs, our shared experiences, our changing ideas about the future, and our willingness to trust and respect one another despite our failures and disappointments.
As I set off, I think back to being pregnant with Georgia. I’d had so many dreams about what kind of mother I was going to be. I was unprepared for my firstborn’s angry blotched face, the hard little gums that worked on my nipples until they blistered, the piercing cry that could call me into account at any second and find me wanting – until we were both bundles of rocking, trembling nervous exhaustion.
That’s how Georgia taught me a lesson, slipping into the world with a love that insisted I put aside who I was and who I wasn’t, urging me to forget the checks and balances. I slowly understood that the failures and the triumphs didn’t mean a thing to her without an unbroken will just to try and try again.
And now that she’s at the point of leaving us, I’m asking myself if I have been the mother I wanted to be, the mother she needed me to be. How well have I channelled this fierce, unbridled love? Could I have done anything else to equip her for life on her own, all grown up? Because although I can tell myself I’ll always be there for her, I know that she won’t always choose the safety net; sometimes she will brave the fall.
Whatever happens to all of us, the sun will keep spinning the seasons, nurturing the lakes and fells, casting its long, deep shadows and bestowing its steadfast light. All I can do is trust my daughter. It is her life, not mine, and she has her own choices to make. Inevitably, one day she will decide to leave us – breaking off a piece of my heart and taking it with her. When the time comes, my love will be captured in her freedom. My life will run beside hers, ever onward, out of sight.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My sincere thanks go first to Nick Owen and Jane Scott, who both took time out for a stranger who claimed to be writing a book. Jane took me on a tour around Windermere School, which was the inspiration for my own Fairbridge, and Nick showed me the Mountain Rescue HQ in Ambleside and spoke to me at length in person and via email to help me get my facts straight. Any errors that remain are my own.
Thanks, as always, to my agent Tara Wynne – your support and encouragement always pushes me onwards. To Larissa Edwards, my publisher, I owe you a deep debt of gratitude for championing my writing and coming up with great ideas at key moments. To Roberta Ivers, editor extraordinaire, you have been instrumental in shaping this story and turning it into something far better than it originally was, and working together has been a fantastic experience – I hope for many more! My thanks also go to Claire de Medici for all the tightening and for your eagle editorial eye, and to Chris Kunz for proofreading. Thanks also to Anna O’Grady and the entire team at Simon & Schuster Australia. I am very grateful for your efforts in getting this book out into the world.
I am indebted to my wonderful writing group, comprising Natasha Lester, Annabel Smith, Dawn Barker, Emma Chapman, Amanda Curtin and Yvette Walker, who provide support whenever it is needed, as well as a willingness to look at early drafts. You are all fabulous, and I still can’t quite believe I’m allowed in to such a talented circle of women!
Thanks also to Marian and Raymond Agombar and all the Foster family for your unwavering support, and to Jenni Shelton and Louise Bythway for taking care of my girls so I can write. Special mention for James Foster – your enthusiasm and expertise with promotional material is always very much appreciated.
As always, an enormous thank you to my husband Matthew Foster. You encourage my writing in so many different ways, even now we both know how wonderful and crazy this writing lark is. I couldn’t do it without you.
And finally, thank you to our beautiful girls, Hannah and Isabelle, for being there every day with your boundless energy, your beautiful cuddles and your constant enthusiasm for life. When the time comes, I’m sure I’ll struggle as much as Anya as you both head out into the big wide world, and this book now serves as your reminder to go gently with me! In return, I promise to champion your adventures, even though I’ll miss you both like crazy and may not be above bribing you to come home.
Sara Foster