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She settled her chin on her arms again, watching a dog run with an impressively large stick: the thing was three times as big as him. Holly chuckled quietly as it negotiated a walker coming his way, unaware of how much room he was taking up and forcing the woman to jump from the path.
Everything ached from how much Jen and she had laughed yesterday, her stomach muscles constantly dull. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this, if ever. If laughter was the best medicine, Jen was the cure for all.
Maybe I should just text her back now.
‘You okay, love?’ Dad’s voice made her jump. She’d not even seen them approaching.
‘We’re going to go for a walk down by the river if you want to join us?’ Mum asked, her features a picture of concern.
‘That would be nice,’ Holly replied, trying hard to sound chipper.
They walked in silence for a while, Holly keeping her attention on the surrounding trees and meandering river. But she could tell that loaded conversation hung in the air, right on the tip of her parents’ tongues. She bit down on her anger; it wasn’t their fault she was so irritable.
‘Look, Hols,’ Dad said, stopping as he pointed to the riverbank across the water. ‘A crane.’
The bird waded through the water, tall and imposing, looking for food.
The tension grew heavier as the three of them stood, watching the bird but not really watching. A question hung in the air, like thought bubbles above her parents’ heads.
Holly stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, bracing herself for whatever was coming.
‘Are you—’ Mum began, taking the time to choose her words carefully. ‘Are you sad again, Holly?’
Holly spun to face her mother, her brow creased. ‘Sad?’
‘It’s okay, love,’ Dad reassured.
‘Do you think, maybe, you might reconsider the doctors? They can help with these things. There’s no shame in tablets.’ Mum had the best intentions. Holly wrestled the comeback that threatened to spill out.
She watched the riverbank again, scanning the tree line for the bird. All she could spot was a lone duck.
‘Not that kind of sad,’ she eventually managed.
‘What kind, then?’ Dad asked. ‘Can we help?’
Holly chewed on her lip, unable to face her parents. Their stares held more weight than the stupid crumbling turrets that towered in the distance.
‘It’s a Holly problem. Don’t worry about it,’ she said, her voice unsteady.Don’t cry in public, Holly.
Dad placed a hand on her back. ‘We’re your parents. A Holly problem is our problem. Whether you want it to be or not.’
Mum padded round to her side, Holly now the filling in a sad sandwich.
‘There’s no pressure, but sharing can be good. And you never know – us old codgers might even have a solution.’
Holly’s mouth twitched with the threat of a smile. ‘I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.’
‘I hope that’s meant as a compliment,’ Dad joked.
‘Of course,’ Holly said, her voice still sullen. ‘You’re always looking out for me. And all I’ve ever been is a dick.’
‘Language,’ Mum scolded.
‘Sorry.’ Holly swallowed, the threat of tears finally past. ‘It’s true, though.’
‘We beg to differ, but then we might be a little biased. Considering we made you and all,’ Mum replied.
Dad moved his hand to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘Now, how can we help? If you’ve murdered someone, your mum’s a dab hand with a shovel.’
