Carenza and her friend Rosie left at 4am for work experience in France. Perran has gone with my husband to visit grandparents. I marvel at how much can be achieved when I am uninterrupted – I review a book for Third Way magazine and paint a watercolour and take a walk. However, next day as I clear lunch, I realise I have not heard from Carenza since teatime yesterday when she texted, “Coach nearing Lille now.”
I text, “Please let me know you arrived safely.” An hour later, there is still no reply, so I text, “Tell me you haven’t been sold to the white slave trade, Ha ha.” But it isn’t really “Ha ha”. I fret as I wait for her message. Finally, I ring my husband. He hasn’t heard from her either.
“Hmmm – I’ll see if Perran can text Rosie.”
I don’t know what Perran says, but seconds later, we have a reply from Carenza, “Sorry I didn’t text. Nothing’s wrong. I was just busy. Lille’s pretty and there’s loads to do.”
Next time I drive back from visiting my parents in Cornwall, I shall ring them as soon as I get in, before I even put the kettle on, and tell them I’m safe.
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