Page 10 of The Reno
I laughed despite myself.
Willa headed to the door and then turned around. “Oh, and don’t let your mum convince you out of it, okay?”
I winced. That was easier said than done. Mum wanted all of this house business done. She wanted it sold so everyone could move on. And I’d tried to move on. But this particular brand of grief wasn’t all that straightforward. It was thorny and prickly, and the more I ignored it, the more I bled.
“Kat.” Willa’s voice brought me back into her pale pink office. “You promise, yeah?”
I would have to find a way to convince Mum it was a good idea, to get her on board.
I swallowed. “I promise.”
TWO
Our breaths were visible in front of us at each exhale. Mum and I were halfway through the four-mile trek across the Chilterns. We were wrapped up from head to toe, the cold February air making my nose cold. The Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty had a handful of familiar walks we’d taken as a family. With my dad as a kid and later with Graham when I was a surly teenager. But as men came and went, Mum and I walked these routes on Saturday mornings.
It was a special place for us.
Or at least Mum’s favourite place. She loved the rolling green hills, the otters she’d manage to spot in the rivers, and bird-watching with Graham at the weekend.
I hated the outdoors but never had the heart to break it to her. I didn’t want to lose this rare connection. And I didn’t want to be lectured about my health and London’s pollution.
I chose the Chilterns, with their beautiful surroundings and uninterrupted countryside views, to break the news to my mother. On the train over, I’d repeated the story to myself. I was moving up north to renovate Dad’s house, whether I liked it ornot. After our chat last week, Willa had given me the rest of the week to get my shit in order. Hand over to Clara and Kieran. By now, Willa would have revoked my access to the office. I had no choice but to go forward with the plan. She would have made it that way on purpose.
Her warning rang in my ears.
Don’t let your mum convince you out of it.
I knew I shouldtellMum. Be bold. Brave. But I really wanted her blessing. And I didn’t want to have to beg for it.
I heaved a breath, a combination of my unfitness and my anxiety.
“Mum—”
“How is work?” she asked, her tone swift and demonstrative. My confidence plummeted.
“Good.”
“You think you’ll stick this one out?” she mused.
I took a sharp inhale of breath; the noise of our boots crunching on the hard ground grew loud.
“I’ve been there four years, Mum,” I said gently.
“I know, but I know you can get… restless. You’ve always been restless, even as a baby.”
“Well, I think Dr Harris explained that one.”
I’d gone for my diagnosis with Dr Harris at university after a lecturer had suggested I might have ADHD. I came out of the examination room, Dr Harris having announced I was having twins! She diagnosed me with dyslexia and ADHD. I remembered looking at the psychology report like a flash of lightning had struck me. It all made sense. It all slotted into place. Therewas a reason for the struggles: the missed appointments, constantly running late, the feeling of being bored and unmotivated. The euphoric highs when that strike of motivation hit. The lows, when I couldn’t move, no matter how much I wanted to—my feet stuck in sinking sand.
It all made sense, and I had a community of people who felt the same way.
Despite that, inadequacy lingered.
Mum scoffed. “I’m still not sure she was a real doctor. They say that some of these places aren’t proper clinics. They sign whatever paper you want them to.”
I closed my eyes.
“You know, they didn’t have these labels when I was a kid. Now everyone has some problem—”
