refused at first, crushing his boyish enthusiasm. She was worried he’d be watching her every move, her every drink, and she wouldn’t have the freedom she needed to sneak off when she wanted to as she did at home. Though when she thought about it, she didn’t actually need to hide – she had hours on her own to do as she pleased, to go where she liked and to drink as she saw fit.
On some days she and Josh would be like ships passing in the loneliness of the night. The long hours he worked gave her the opportunity to live her life as she wanted to without having to see the disappointed look in his eyes.
She stood her ground, refusing to go and refusing to look at the brochures of the upmarket hotel he’d booked them into, but after a week of him looking forlorn over the breakfast table, Casey had reluctantly agreed.
‘You won’t regret it, Cass. It’ll be wonderful, I promise.’
Casey smiled knowing the sentiment of the moment didn’t really hit either of them as it should’ve done.
Sardinia was a jewel; bathed by turquoise seas and surrounded by ivory white sandy beaches, and for a moment Casey forgot her pain and was able to live in the moment of the seductive beauty of the island.
Josh picked up the hire car – an open-top white Mercedes – and drove them both away from the busy seaside resort of Santa Teresa di Gallura; along winding roads, past citrus groves and velvet green pastures, up towards the rustic blanket of forested mountain peaks and just beyond to Bosa, the impossibly picturesque medieval town with pink and white buildings flanking the swirling river.
‘It’s beautiful, Josh.’
‘I told you you’d like it,’ Josh said, grinning.
And he’d been right. Casey had loved every moment. She hadn’t stopped drinking but it didn’t have that desperate edge to it and Josh had said nothing, just held her hand as she walked unsteadily along the mountain paths. He sat by her side as she slept off the lunchtime bottle of wine, and when the day was finished, he carried her to bed after the town’s evening festivities.
It was all going so well – the simple things were being let back into her life; and then on the second week when Casey wasn’t looking her world came falling in again.
‘Why don’t we have a baby? Our baby. It might help you.’
Casey had looked at Josh, taken in his face and the naive excitement in his eyes before speaking, the distance between them becoming wider than it was already.
‘Take me home, Josh. I want to go home.’
Within four hours they were on a plane heading back to England.
When she got back to the flat Casey remembered she’d promised to meet Vaughn later; annoyingly she couldn’t call him to cancel their drink as she didn’t have his number.
Sighing, Casey absentmindedly picked up her diary and started flicking through it. For a two-year diary it had surprisingly few written entries. It was mainly full of doodles, and scribblings of homework.
Partway through the journal, Casey came to a familiar page which made her catch her breath and the tears swelled in the back of her throat. Stuck neatly in the middle of the page was a lock of hair.
Fri 15th January 1996
Nurse brought me a tiny lock of hair from baby. I will keep it forever. Feel so, so sad, can’t stop crying. Think I’ll cry forever.
‘I’m sorry Casey; it’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘Please, just take me to see my baby.’
‘I’m sorry; you know I can’t do that. Sweetheart, you’ve got to try to stop thinking of it as your baby; it’ll only make it harder for you. I know it’s tough but eventually it’ll get easier.’
Casey looked at the midwife who’d been so kind to her; she thought she might have been able to convince her to take her down to the neo-natal unit but Casey could see from the look on the midwife’s face it was pointless trying to persuade her.
The feeling of isolation was crippling; no one would tell her anything about her baby. Her mum
On some days she and Josh would be like ships passing in the loneliness of the night. The long hours he worked gave her the opportunity to live her life as she wanted to without having to see the disappointed look in his eyes.
She stood her ground, refusing to go and refusing to look at the brochures of the upmarket hotel he’d booked them into, but after a week of him looking forlorn over the breakfast table, Casey had reluctantly agreed.
‘You won’t regret it, Cass. It’ll be wonderful, I promise.’
Casey smiled knowing the sentiment of the moment didn’t really hit either of them as it should’ve done.
Sardinia was a jewel; bathed by turquoise seas and surrounded by ivory white sandy beaches, and for a moment Casey forgot her pain and was able to live in the moment of the seductive beauty of the island.
Josh picked up the hire car – an open-top white Mercedes – and drove them both away from the busy seaside resort of Santa Teresa di Gallura; along winding roads, past citrus groves and velvet green pastures, up towards the rustic blanket of forested mountain peaks and just beyond to Bosa, the impossibly picturesque medieval town with pink and white buildings flanking the swirling river.
‘It’s beautiful, Josh.’
‘I told you you’d like it,’ Josh said, grinning.
And he’d been right. Casey had loved every moment. She hadn’t stopped drinking but it didn’t have that desperate edge to it and Josh had said nothing, just held her hand as she walked unsteadily along the mountain paths. He sat by her side as she slept off the lunchtime bottle of wine, and when the day was finished, he carried her to bed after the town’s evening festivities.
It was all going so well – the simple things were being let back into her life; and then on the second week when Casey wasn’t looking her world came falling in again.
‘Why don’t we have a baby? Our baby. It might help you.’
Casey had looked at Josh, taken in his face and the naive excitement in his eyes before speaking, the distance between them becoming wider than it was already.
‘Take me home, Josh. I want to go home.’
Within four hours they were on a plane heading back to England.
When she got back to the flat Casey remembered she’d promised to meet Vaughn later; annoyingly she couldn’t call him to cancel their drink as she didn’t have his number.
Sighing, Casey absentmindedly picked up her diary and started flicking through it. For a two-year diary it had surprisingly few written entries. It was mainly full of doodles, and scribblings of homework.
Partway through the journal, Casey came to a familiar page which made her catch her breath and the tears swelled in the back of her throat. Stuck neatly in the middle of the page was a lock of hair.
Fri 15th January 1996
Nurse brought me a tiny lock of hair from baby. I will keep it forever. Feel so, so sad, can’t stop crying. Think I’ll cry forever.
‘I’m sorry Casey; it’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘Please, just take me to see my baby.’
‘I’m sorry; you know I can’t do that. Sweetheart, you’ve got to try to stop thinking of it as your baby; it’ll only make it harder for you. I know it’s tough but eventually it’ll get easier.’
Casey looked at the midwife who’d been so kind to her; she thought she might have been able to convince her to take her down to the neo-natal unit but Casey could see from the look on the midwife’s face it was pointless trying to persuade her.
The feeling of isolation was crippling; no one would tell her anything about her baby. Her mum
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