Sam

I sit at the table poring over some paper, trying to find the right words. Normally I'd opt for a more comfortable seat when texting and I wouldn't need to plan out what to say on paper, but this text message requires intense concentration and I must get it right. Perhaps an email would have been easier in terms of the amount – but it just seems far too formal. Maybe that's what we are now – formal.

Who am I kidding? We're not even that.

I've had no contact with her since we left a year and a half ago – absolutely nothing. Anything that I've heard has been from Grace. She's kept in touch with her Mum, though admittedly, Connie did go quiet for a while after Christmas. When she got back in touch, it turned out she'd caught the sickness bug off everyone else. Grace says she hadn't texted or rung because she was sleeping a lot.

Grace was very disappointed that Connie couldn't make it last Christmas, but she understands more what a difficult job her mum has now. They were short-staffed due to illness and also Jacob swanned off to Dubai at short notice, so Connie was down another nurse too – not that I can talk really.

I swanned off with no notice.

Connie was going to come just after Christmas, but then she was ill – she said it really took it out of her. Grace wanted to go and see her, but Connie wouldn't hear of it. She wouldn't risk Grace catching something, then of course Gracie went back to school. She seemed to think that Connie was hoping to come and see us later in the year, but the ED department in Holby just seemed to get busier and busier. Apparently, Connie sounded exhausted when they spoke on the phone. Grace was quite worried and wanted to go over and see her, but I couldn't get the time off work.

"I can go on my own, Daddy." My daughter suggested confidently.

Absolutely not. My Mum could have taken her, but we fell out and haven't spoken for months.

We have no reason to doubt that Connie wanted to come and see us – or at least Grace, but couldn't. She certainly was ill and it must be so hard being parted from our daughter for so long, but Grace has another theory too.

Our daughter doesn't fully understand the rude circumstances of our departure from Holby – nor does she know that her Mum had no idea we'd gone, but Gracie is aware that there is some sort of rift between her Mother and I. I think she believes that it has to do with the fact that she lives with me in New York and Connie so desperately wanted her back home with her in Holby.

"Mummy can't help resenting you Daddy." Grace told me. "She misses me so badly."

Grace knows that Connie and I have had no contact since we left. She knows that neither of us have been able to bring ourselves to talk to each other. Anyhow, it is Grace's theory that her Mum feels uncomfortable about coming to see us because I'm here and she doesn't know how to deal with that. I can't help thinking that there may be something in what my daughter's saying – I certainly haven't made any effort to make Connie feel like she would be welcome.

This year I have rented the chalet in Aspen again, but this time I've been instructed by my daughter that I have to personally invite Connie, to show that I want her here too. I do want her here.

What Grace doesn't know is that I 'stole' her away from Connie in the dead of the night. That was a year and a half ago – does time heal a broken heart? Because I broke Connie's heart – no mistake and does the passing of time soothe anger? Because I really don't know what the right words are. Do I be 'friendly' and invite her without mentioning what I did or will 'pretending the last year and a half never happened' go down badly? Or should I try and apologise? Sorry is not a big enough word for what I did – and would she even believe me if I said it?

I very much doubt that Connie would pick up a phone call from me and like I said – an email seems very formal for what I need to say when we aren't really even on speaking terms. A letter would take too long to arrive and she probably wouldn't read it anyway, so a text is the best option, but a dictionary for this hasn't yet been invented.

I sigh, scrunching up yet another piece of paper and chucking it at the over-flowing bin, before beginning again.

"Gee, Daddy, you've used a whole tree!" Grace exclaims with a giggle, walking into the kitchen to get a drink.

"Yeah, well I have to get it right." I mumble, forgetting temporarily that my daughter doesn't know the truth behind the rift.

"Just be yourself, Daddy and don't try too hard." She suggests sensibly before leaving me to it again.

She's right, of course, so I start another sheet.

"Ok, here it goes." I mutter, having re-read my finished letter and decided that it's as good as it's going to get.

I type it up on my phone, press 'send' and hold my breath.