Looking up at the hospital she took a deep breath. He worked here – she knew he did. Three hundred miles in vain hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd want her. It wasn't very often that one Holly Olivia Cullen felt desperate but today, this moment, was one of those times.

Wrapping her green mac tight around her lean frame she sighed once more. Nerves were something that rarely got the better of her, but seeing your father for the first time in 11 years and not letting him know is one of those times you're allowed to feel nervous – or so she told herself.

She was 16 now. Only just, mind, but she was sixteen nonetheless; she had so many things she wanted to tell her father, things she wanted to know about her parents. But at the same time, she wondered if he even missed her whatsoever. There was the odd card and present, sure, but he never visited, never even called. There were never letters, never more than a 'happy birthday' between them – even that always came across forced. She wondered what was wrong with her, was she that unlovable, that unwanted by her father?

As the wind whipped around her, blowing her auburn hair around her face, the rain started – if this wasn't a sign from her mother to get on with it she didn't know what was. Walking through the main doors she found herself almost immediately graced with the smell which was a hospital – antibacterial wash and bleach. She felt lost, out of place, but tucking the collar of her jacket down and running her fingers through her, now very wet, hair she felt a confidence she'd never felt before; today she was going to finally meet her father. She just hoped he was as happy as she was.

She needed someone who looked professional – she didn't know where she was going, England confused her at the best of times, having grown up in Scotland things were very different, she just hoped someone understood her – that had been a regular problem since she'd arrived two days ago, how people looked at her when she spoke you'd have thought she was from Timbuktu not Scotland; a country what was only a few hundred miles up the road.

Turning around, sighing gently she guessed going it alone would be the best thing; surely there were sign posts, she was good at Geography so it couldn't be that hard. Deciding that yes, that was the plan, she made her way into the lift; praying for her mothers assistance as to where to go, for there was not a smidgen of information in the lift. Looking over her shoulder hopefully she smiled gently at the woman behind her; "Excuse me, what floor is AAU on?"

"The fourth... Forgive me for saying this but you don't sound like you're from around here?" She gave a gentle smile in return as Holly pressed the button for the fourth floor; relief flooding her as she heard another Scottish, albeit not very obvious, accent.

"No… No I'm not. I'm not even sure if I should be here full stop but..." she sighed, "I'll never know if I don't try, will I? And I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, I don't even know you…" she laughed softly

"No, no you won't. If you need anything don't hesitate to ask someone – though, I'm sure whatever you're here for will work out just fine. Right, this is my stop and… good luck with whatever it is you're here for…" Giving her a reassuring smile and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder she left as if she were never there. Leaving Holly alone once again…

***

When she left the lift I felt more confident, a bit of home was something that never failed to give me confidence; even if it was only a bit of a Scottish burr in an accent, it was still a bit of home. I took a few deep breaths and wrung my hands together. Nerves, once again, were getting the better of me. I must have looked a mess, my hair was everywhere, my cheeks were flushed and blotchy not to mention I was soaked through. All this, all this, was just for my father putting a very simple 'love daddy x' in a card, for a bit of vain hope that after all these years maybe he wanted me home at long last.

That robotic woman in the lift told me it was my stop. This was it. I know I didn't look ok, and I sure as hell didn't feel ok – but I would have to do. Seeing the double doors leading to AAU my heart trebled in speed. This really was the recognition point; I was going to meet my father at long last.

Pushing the doors open I was greeted by the busy day to day life of my father, people everywhere, blood and goodness knows what other bodily fluids were decorating the walls – suddenly I got a feeling that now wasn't a good time. Yet, quite selfishly of me, I didn't want to go anywhere; for once I wanted to be the centre of his attention, not some nobody off the street – his daughter. Me.

It was a lovely nurse who greeted me, asked me what I was here for but when I looked up and saw the man I recognised from pictures, just 10 years older, all excuses evaded me and quite simply all I said was: "I'm here to see my father."

I knew I was the picture of my mother, I was told that from a very young age. But I had my father's eyes, my father's smile; and rather unfortunately, my father's short sightedness as well. I looked over at him hopefully, completely ignoring the nurse beside me. I'd prepared myself for many things; heartbreak, rejection and even disappointment; for maybe I wasn't what he was expecting. But I hadn't prepared myself to be thrown off the ward by some busy-body of a nurse before even being noticed by my father.

I didn't like to be manhandled; everyone who knew me knew that, therefore I did something I vowed I wouldn't do. I made a scene, if this didn't get my fathers attention I didn't know what would. So what do I do? I shout across the ward to my father; the tiny amount of hope inside of me quickly dissipating. To top it off I started to cry; not a good look when trying to impress, trying to look grown up.

"You put 'love daddy' in my birthday card..." then I added as an afterthought, "You never did that before."

I look up, tear stains covering my cheeks, all my hope shattered and lacking any dignity with some five foot nothing nurse with an attitude problem trying to get rid of me. "Please, daddy…"

***

"You put 'love daddy' in my birthday card… you never did that before."

Shock wasn't the emotion on Linden Cullen's face when he looked over to see the image of his late-wife being restrained by Daisha. There were no words to convey the emotion what crossed his face. Shock. Disbelief. Relief.

A helpless "Please, daddy" broke his concentration. Looking over at her properly he managed a very simple; "let her go, Daisha."

***

"Let her go, Daisha."

So the nurse is Daisha. I look over at my father once more, which sounds weird to even think, 'My Father'. Needless to say I am shocked, it sounds awful, I was expecting him to say get rid of her or 'off with her head' or something.

But now, relief flooding through me, I'm past being dignified, trying to be grown up; inside I'm simply a little girl who wants her daddy – running across the ward, dodging nurses, patients and drip stands, I throw myself at him. Prepared to be dropped straight on my arse, but I cling to him and he lets me.

I don't care about making a scene; I want everyone to know this is my father. I cry into his shoulder, happiness and relief taking over. I only need 5 words. 5 words to describe the moment, very simply:

"I love you too, daddy. I love you too…"