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The only difficult moment for Poppy was when they were
standing in the hospital’s main doorway watching the children bustle round the car to get her place ready for her.

‘It’s when children turn out good that life makes sense,’ Jessie said suddenly, standing there four-square between her crutches and following them with her eyes as they darted busily about. ‘It’s what we’re for, hmm, Poppela?’

‘Not the only thing,’ Poppy said and tucked her hand inside the taut elbow beside her. ‘Life’s about being happy and loved and busy – and – and good yourself. Like you. You’ve done well, sweetheart, and never think otherwise. No matter how our children turn out, we matter too. Otherwise it means the children were only as important as the sort of children they have themselves eventually, and that can’t be right, can it?’

‘You’re a good girl, Poppy,’ Jessie said. ‘You always have been. As far as I’m concerned you’re my child too. Let your mother go and jump in the lake if she don’t like it. My Poppela, hmm?’ and she turned her head and grinned at her. And Poppy smiled back.

‘Got it in one,’ she said. And Jessie nodded and set out to take herself and her crutches across the gravel to the car.