New York!” Laura cried in alarm. “Phone me from Sydney, okay? Reverse the charges. Phone as often as you like. Phone me when the bus gets in, and phone me from the airport, okay?”
“Mum!” Jilly protested. Sometimes, she thought, parents needed so much protecting, it was exhausting. But at the sight of her mother’s face, she relented. “Yeah, all right.” She gave Laura a quick brusque hug. “But don’t make such a big deal of it, okay?”
“Okay.” Laura watched her daughter, with nothing more than a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, wave brightly and disappear into the terminal. She saw the line in her mind’s eye. Laura watched her daughter disappear.
She got into her blue Mazda in the parking lot and sat and listened to the radio for fifteen minutes, then she drove round the block and parked discreetly down the street where she could watch the coach leave the depot. She couldn’t see a thing through the darkened windows, but she pictured Jilly sitting halfway back, resolutely not crying.
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