‘But you said, parents,’ I say. I don’t know why I say that of all
things. When we appeared in the police station and our faces were on TV, she’d
said her parents would come looking for her.
‘He’s not with my mum anymore,’ she says. ‘He’d come visit me in
hospital. We always used to video chat and stuff. I have Greg, my other dad. I
guess I meant them. I knew they’d come looking for me, all three of them would.
That’s why I freaked out a bit I guess. Because say he sees me on TV, out there
in Iraq, and he knows his little girl isn’t dead anymore. Can you imagine what
that’d do to him? Knowing he can’t leave? Can’t come looking for me?’ She looks
down. ‘I’ve never told anyone all that. I guess. When you guys were down there,
I just felt alone? I realised I didn’t like floating around so much, being the
girl who pretends she doesn’t find her dad again. I like not feeling like a
terrible daughter anymore.’
Yates crosses and hugs her. ‘You’re the opposite of that,’ he says. ‘And
we’ll find him. One day when he crosses to us. Happy and old and you can see
him again.’
I cross and hug them both. We stay like that for
a second and then we part. Closer than ever.
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