Kate Maryon - A MILLION ANGELS

“Dad!” I call.

My dad spins round.

“Jemima! Sweetie! You’re getting soaked!”

“I don’t care,” I say, paddling up to him. “Dad, please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. Afghanistan is too far away. I just need to be near you.”

“Oh, darling,” he sighs. “As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go, you know that. Let’s not make it any harder than it already is, eh?”

“But, Dad,” I whisper, “what if something bad happens. There might be a fire or a burglar. Or someone might get hurt. We might need you.”

“Mima,” he says, “this is why I didn’t wake you, sweetheart. It’s much easier if I just slip away.”

“Not for me it isn’t,” I say. “Just one more hug then?”

And Dad scoops me into his arms as if I were a tiny toddler. He squeezes me so tight I think my lungs might burst out of my chest and splat down on the floor. We’re not crying, but tears from the thundering black storm clouds soak us through and settle like diamonds on our lashes. We find each other’s eyes and tie a knot in our gaze.

“Love you, pipsqueak,” Dad says. He kisses my nose.

“Love you, Lieutenant Colonel Taylor-Jones.”

He stands me down. We salute one another. The soldier drives my dad away.

The rain puddles between my toes and bounces off my skin. My tummy sinks through the tarmac road, through the earth’s muddy crust, right down to the blackest, darkest hole at the bottom of the world. I can’t let him go. I can’t. I run after the car. I shout.

“Dad, quick, stop!” He moves further and further away. “Dad, please, stop! Please!”

The road is empty. I leap into the middle and wave my arms like mad.

“Dad!” I call.

At last, the red brake lights go on and the soldier reverses the car until it’s level with my feet.

“What is it, Mima?”

I stand frozen like a dummy in the road, with a million words raining on my mind.

“I… erm…” I stumble. “I… I… What would make you come back home, Dad? I mean, how bad a thing would have to happen?”

My face is soaked with rain. He can’t see my tears.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says, checking his watch. “I haven’t got time to talk about it now – everyone’s waiting for me. But I promise you you’ll be OK. Everything will be fine. Mum’s here, Granny’s here and I’ll be home for a two-week R & R break before you know it. Then my tour will be halfway done, Mima, and then I’ll be back home for good.”

“Until they send you away again,” I sigh.

Dad salutes me one last time.

“Trust, Mima, trust.”

The soldier drives him away and my words tumble like rocks through the air.

“I’m scared you’re going to die, Dad. I’m scared you’re never coming home.”

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