Page 188 of Brighter Together

“You did it.”

Her smile is enormous.

And this, more than the jump itself, is why I agreed.

I love watching her realise she can do things that frighten her.

Not because I make her.

Because she chooses them.

Three weeks into our holiday, Ella stands behind the campervan waving both hands at me while I’m attempting to reverse an articulated lorry into a space the size of a shoebox.

I lean out of the window.

“How much room?”

“Loads.”

“That is not a measurement.”

“Keep coming.”

I reverse another foot.

“Stop!”

I slam on the brake.

Ella laughs.

I put the handbrake on and climb out.

“You are terrible at directing.”

“I got you into the space.”

“That was mostly me, Ella-Bella.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Then I look past her.

The argument disappears.

The campsite sits beside a mountain lake so clear it reflects the peaks on the opposite shore.

We asked about the most secluded pitch when we arrived, and a generous tip somehow resulted in us getting this one.

There isn’t another camper anywhere near us.

Ella follows my gaze.

“Worth the terrible reversing?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?”