But before any more could be said Grandma Poppy, Grandma Glenda and Grandpa Mike had stopped going back into the care home. Had, in fact, turned round eagerly, and were running – faster than you might think – towards the mobility scooters. By the time DCI Bryant had finished staring at PC Middleton, all three of them were mounting their chosen scouters, ready to go. Glenda had even started revving hers. Well. It was more of a whine than a rev. But she twisted that throttle like a Hell’s Angel. A Hell’s Angel with arthritis.
“It doesn’t have to be a happily ever after or a happily always. Just a happily once. A happily sometimes. Hope. That’d make our pain worth it.”
“Henri held herself as if only her arms could keep her pieced together, and I saw that behind all her fake control—throwing herself at a teacher, carving our dad out of her heart—was something fragile. I wish we’d seen it sooner—my dad and Mr. Flynn, they had a responsibility to see it, to do better. Those moments were my sister spinning out.”