It was the first time I’d seen L for years. Although I’ve caught up with his mum on her visits north pretty often since her dad died, I haven’t seen him since he was about 5 and he’s 10 now. They were on a short Easter break. I thought he wouldn’t remember me but was full of smiles and called me Auntie A and was more than happy for me to scoop him up when I saw him arrive with his mum as we’d arranged to meet for a pizza when I finished work. As I looked at him reading whilst his mum and I chatted away I couldn’t help but be reminded of the old school reports of his grandad’s and felt so very sad that he would never see his grandson entirely absorbed in reading his book ...’it’s about a boy who’s mother has died and he goes to live in a home and gets recruited by MI5 because children are less likely to arrouse suspicion than adults... and he has lots of adventures...’
I drove them back to their holiday cottage and made my way home.

All that was on Tuesday.
It can be hard to know our place in the world.