Falling Off the End of Time

I’ve been writing dates into my new diary (yes, I do still use paper – how can you faintly pencil things in on digital media?).  I marked in meetings, courses, weekends with friends, then I looked up school holidays. 

The twins’ Spring term starts on 7^th January, and so on with February Half Term, Easter and Whitsun.  Then school breaks up on 19^th July.  Irritatingly, I couldn’t find a date for returning to school in the Autumn.  I assumed it would be 1^st September, so started to mark that in.  Then suddenly I stopped with my pencil in mid-air.  It didn’t matter that I did not know the correct date: after this June, Perran and Carenza would never be returning to school again. 

I felt my stomach twist.   I flicked through my diary – only one more music concert, two more school trips, one more one more dance display.  A whole way of life is grinding to a halt for me.  Sometimes  women who have been deprived of their own baby snatch another from a pram.  Will anybody notice if I steal a teenager so I can go on being proud at school concerts?