I look up to see that they’re all staring at me.
‘You spoke to this woman – Connie –’ Dad says carefully. ‘And then, this other man . . . did you speak to him?’
I nod. ‘Stuart. He was a GP and a bit smug, but he really helped.’
‘And then you spoke at the hospital? And rang Rhys’s brother?’
I nod again. ‘I was all shaky and I just . . . I just wanted to run away. It was pathetic.’
‘Steffi,’ Mum says. It sounds like she’s struggling not to laugh, but when I look at her I see there are tears in her eyes. ‘Steffi. Can’t you hear everything you’re saying? Don’t you see what you did?’
I shake my head. ‘I couldn’t handle it.’
‘But you did handle it,’ Lucy says. ‘You spoke to all those people, Steffi. You found it hard, yes, but you still did it. That’s all anyone can ask of anyone else.’
‘You even used the phone,’ Mum says, squeezing my hand. ‘Oh, Steffi. I’m so, so proud.’
‘But I had a panic attack,’ I say. ‘Right there. In front of Rhys.’
‘And then you got up and went to get help,’ Dad says.
‘I wanted to run away,’ I say again.
‘But you didn’t,’ Mum says.
‘I upset Tem,’ I say, abruptly changing tack as I remember the other thing I had to cry about. ‘She’s mad at me.’
‘So?’ Mum says, so frankly I actually smile.
‘She’s not speaking to me any more.’
Dad gets up and starts bustling with the kettle, filling it under the tap and then putting it on to boil. He starts gathering mugs, asking a quiet, ‘Tea? Tea?’ to each of us.
‘I give that a day, at most,’ Mum says. ‘Friends fight, Steffi. Even best ones.’
‘Especially best ones,’ Lucy puts in, smiling.
‘I let her down,’ I say. ‘I lied to her.’
‘So tell her you’re sorry and let her be angry for a while,’ Mum says. ‘Storms pass, love. They always pass.’
Lucy nods and the two of them smile encouragingly, but also slightly condescendingly, at me from across the table. ‘If you’ve done something wrong, often the best thing to do is let her be angry for a while,’ Lucy says.
‘She told me to leave,’ I say.
‘I don’t imagine she meant forever,’ Mum says, her mouth twitching. ‘Tem can be very stormy herself, but she loves you, Steffi. Being angry for a while won’t change that.’
Dad passes around fresh cups of tea and then sits down again. ‘I think it’s a good sign if you’ve had a bit of a falling out,’ he says. ‘Mistakes are an unfortunate side effect of actually doing things, but they’re usually worth it in the end.’
I look at the three of them, all patient and pleased with themselves. I can’t quite get my head round the fact that they seem proud of me for screwing up.
‘Why are you being so nice to me? This is what you always said. That me and Rhys weren’t good for each other. That not being able to communicate would lead to trouble. Well, it did.’
‘That’s not what we said,’ Dad says, frowning. ‘Or, at least –’ he gives Mum a look – ‘I didn’t. It was never about “trouble”. I was worried that you might come to rely too much on Rhys, yes, that’s true. I was worried you wouldn’t try to push yourself. But I was clearly worried about nothing. When you had to, you did, Steffi. That’s incredibly reassuring to hear, as your dad.’
‘It is?’
‘Of course it is. We worry because we love you. We know you find the world quite hard, and we know we can’t make it easier for you, or make decisions for you. But you’re growing up and you’re learning how to navigate it in your own way. That’s fantastic.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes!’
I look at the three of them in turn, trying to believe them. But I’m so used to feeling like I’m disappointing them that I’m not quite sure what to do with this level of support.
‘I want to go to university,’ I say, surprising myself as much as all of them. ‘You’re right – you can’t make decisions for me. But that’s what you’re trying to do with university.’
‘This is quite a tangent—’ Mum starts to say, but I interrupt, my voice suddenly strong.
‘No, it’s not.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see Lucy smile. ‘It’s all the same thing. If you want me to be more confident, you have to let me learn how. So I’m not going to try to prove anything to you any more.’ My heart is starting to pound, but it’s with energy now instead of anxiety. To be honest, it feels pretty much the same. ‘Me going to uni has nothing to do with you letting me go or not. It’s my choice.’
There’s a long silence. Finally, Dad says, ‘We worry because we love you.’
‘I know.’ I think I really do know, now. ‘And I love you too.’ I swallow. ‘So, can I go?’