‘What are you doing, baby girl?’

Mum had just got out of the bath and wandered through to the kitchen. Her eyes shifted towards the cupboard where she stocked her wine before quickly shifting them back to me. I wanted to take the jumpiness out of her body and set it down beside her, giving her a minute of relief or hoping she could see the damage she was doing to herself. I couldn’t do that. The fight in me had left that evening, so I sat back and watched as she opened the cupboard door and reached for a glass.

‘Take it easy tonight,’ I said as I screwed up the fourth piece of paper and threw it across the kitchen. It landed with a small thud on top of the bin.

‘Nice aim,’ Mum said as she sat down beside me. ‘Now, tell me what’s wrong. I may be as a daft as a brush, but I’m not bloody stupid.’ The deep sigh I made caused her to frown. She moved her chair closer to mine as her frown lingered. I’d been sitting at the table when she came in. I’d been sitting at the table when she made herself a sandwich. I was still sitting at the table an hour later.

‘I’m trying to get the tone of a letter just right. It’s proving to be tricky. Those, over there, are false starts.’ I nodded my head towards the bin.

‘How long is this going to go on for?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ I sighed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.’ I shook my head and started to write. I got as far as Dear Jamie before putting the pen back down.

‘His mum’s cancer is terminal, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘So what happens then? When she…you know? Will he come back to Nottingham? Is that the plan?’

‘He hasn’t said.’

‘You didn’t talk about it before he left?’ Her frown returned. It was one of her what the fucking fuck? frowns. ‘Not even in your letters? You’ve been writing to each other for months.’ I shook my head and avoided looking at her knowing the tears would start if I did. ‘Has he asked you to go and see him?’

‘Don’t you think I’d be with him now instead of babysitting you if he had?’ I snapped. The voice on one shoulder told me to stop, that it wasn’t Mum’s fault, but the voice on the other shoulder told me to take everything out on her until she was fully laden and could help me carry the load. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take this out on you. It’s just a bad time. It’s his birthday soon and his friend is arranging a party. I was sure he would want to see me, but there’s been no indication—’

‘Fuck me, Abi. Where’s my sparky girl gone? This isn’t you. You don’t wait around. You grab every opportunity by the balls.’ She stopped talking but I could see the wheels turning in her head. It caused a glassy-eyed, far away look that wasn’t just caused by the alcohol. ‘Do you love him?’

I stood up and backed the chair into the wall as I got myself a glass. Alcohol would help loosen up the knots in my shoulders. She held out the bottle and pressed her mouth together as I poured a large one.

‘Stupid question,’ she said as she answered it out loud. ‘I can tell with all the moping you’ve been doing.’ I raised an eyebrow above the glass in agreement. ‘Why don’t you surprise him? Get on a train and just turn up.’ She shrugged her shoulders like I wasn’t trying hard enough, not understanding the situation we had found ourselves in.

I sighed deeply. ‘It’s complicated. I’m not sure how things are. His mum is getting worse. He’s got so much to deal with and to get his head around. I can’t just turn up, not when things are so uncertain.’

‘Write that letter and tell him you’ve had enough. He needs to make his bloody mind up.’

‘You’re not helping!’ I shouted.

‘He’s a bloody idiot leaving you like this. What kind of a man does that?’

‘Don’t do that. Don’t talk shit about him. For a start, he didn’t leave me. He left to care for his mum. That’s what kind of man he is.’

‘I understand that, Abi, but at the same time, he didn’t have to end your relationship. He’s not the one dying, is he?’

I ignored her tactless comment and took another gulp of wine.

‘So carry on writing your letters.’

‘I will, thanks. Are you leaving now?’ I held up my glass in mock cheers.

‘Bravado should have been your middle name,’ she pouted. ‘You’re finding it so hard to write the letter because you aren’t telling him what you really feel.’

‘I don’t want to add to how crap things are for him at the moment,’ I replied as I rattled the pen on the table.

‘Pretend I’m Jamie.’

‘What?’ I said, almost choking on my wine.

‘Pretend I’m Jamie. If he was here right now, what would you say?’

I thought for a second. ‘I would tell him that I’m disappointed for so many reasons. I’d tell him I don’t want to lose him, but I understand. It’s just…I tried to ring him, Mum. He didn’t answer. I’ve waited for him to ask me to go to see him, but the invite hasn’t come. I thought he’d need me.’ Then the tears started and I gasped between sobs. ‘I want to tell him everything! I need to tell him how hard this is.’ Mum pulled my head to her shoulder and started stroking my hair back from my forehead. ‘I miss him so much. I just want to hold him.’ A mixture of tuts and shushes left her mouth. ‘What should I do? Give me some advice, Mum. Anything.’

‘You want my advice? Make him jealous. If he loves you and wants to make things work, when the time is right, he won’t like the thought of you out enjoying yourself.’

‘No, that’s a crap idea.’ I was losing patience. ‘I can’t do that to him. He’s there to care for his mum, not shag around. He isn’t like that,’ I said, shaking my head.

‘All men are like that, sweetheart. Believe me; I should know. Drop into your letters that you’ve had a few nights out and drop a few hints that men have been interested. Even go as far as to tell him you’ve met someone else.’

‘I’m not doing that. That would kill him.’

‘Would it? How do you know he isn’t doing that himself? Handsome young man like that.’

‘Stop it!’ I shouted, covering my ears with my hands. ‘He’s caring for his mum. That’s his main priority.’

‘He’s still going to have needs. Only so many times a man can wank off before he misses the real thing.’ Her words didn’t help. The actions she was making with her hands helped even less.

‘Just leave it, Mum. As per usual, you’re talking rubbish and not helping one tiny bit.’

‘I’m trying to help.’ I wanted to scream as she refilled her glass. ‘See it as a test. His reaction will tell you what he wants, sweetheart. We’ll deal with it together, good or bad.’

I tried not to let her words get to me, but it was fucking impossible. How long did I let this go on for? The constant waiting and hoping for a way back into his world was only leading to heartache and a worrying penchant for chocolate washed down with Pinot grigio.

How long could I put my life on hold? How long before he lost interest? The letters were already getting shorter and less frequent. Maybe we did need something to help push the decision I was dreading having to make.

After Mum went to bed, I sat through the night, the small table lamp illuminating the room as I picked up the pen and tried to get my feelings onto paper.

Three hours later, I was still there.