I got a letter from Nick Gleaves yesterday. He's lovely – he said he hadn't got a photo to send to me but he hoped that a note would do instead... and I got a kiss as well, aww ;')

Just to warn you, I think this is going to be the second last chapter. I'll probably continue with the Mum story when I get the chance, but life is really quite hectic at the moment, with exams and dramas at school (who needs TV when you've got real life, huh?) and all kinds of things, so...

"What did he say, Sammy?"

"Mum..."

She lifted herself onto one elbow, met his gaze directly, so that he had no chance to look away. Gave him a weak smile. "What did he say?"

"He said... he said he'd send flowers. For the... for the..."

"Funeral?"

"Yeah. He said it would be inappropriate if he came, but if I wanted he would pay for one of those flower things that spells out mum."

Gill reached out and took her son's hand, hearing his voice break. Her own eyes were watering, and that wasn't just the pain she was in, but the idea that her son was suffering so much.

"You know the ones..." Sammy looked down at the floor, "The ones they put in the coffin?"

"Yeah. I know."

"And he said I could go and live with them."

"Oh," she gave him a weak smile. She was too tired to be angry at Dave any more for what he'd done to her, but she'd never be too tired to be angry at him for what he'd done to their son. Broken his own flesh-and-blood's heart. "What did you say?"

"I said..."

"It's okay, Sammy."

He returned the smile, just a shadow flickering across his face. His fingers were shaking against his mother's. "I said something a bit rude."

"That's my son."

"Can I stay here? In your house? Once you're..."

Gill didn't fill in his words for him this time. He needed to get his head around the idea that she wasn't going to be here for him any more; there was no point pretending. She just squeezed his hand.

"Once you're gone."

"Yes. Of course you can."

"Because if I'm not going to university..."

"Sammy," she murmured, and he trailed off and met her gaze again. "It's your life, okay? You can do whatever you want to do, as long as you're happy. Well, within reason."

He gave a strangled snort, half-crying, half-laughing. He'd been trying to avoid this conversation for a while now; they both had, really. He didn't want to have to say goodbye to the woman who'd brought him up, looked after him through everything. They'd argued sometimes, but she'd always loved him so much, and he adored her.

"If you don't want to go to uni, you don't need to. It'll save you some money, certainly," she smiled again, lying back down, shuffling to get comfortably against the thin hospital mattress, "You don't need to do what you think I'll want you to do – as long as you're happy..."

He nodded. He couldn't say what he wanted to say: how can I ever be happy without you here? He had to be brave, like his mum was being brave. He could cry afterwards, when she was... when she was gone.

"If you want to go and live with your father, you go and live with your father – that's fine. You'll have an amazing time in Australia."

"No. I told him I didn't want to talk to him ever again."

"I seem to remember you said something similar to me a few months ago. And God, I'm so glad you changed your mind."

His face crumbled again.

"Sammy," she whispered, "Sammy, it's going to be okay."

How can it ever be okay? "Yeah. I know, Mum."

She ran a hand through her hair subconsciously. She always liked to look perfect; her heels co-ordinated with her handbag, her skirts ironed so thoroughly there wasn't a single millimetre crease. This felt so wrong, being in a hospital, surrounded by death and doom, surrounded by mess and imperfection.

Such horrible, penetrating sadness everywhere.

"Sammy, I know I haven't always been there for you."

"You have, Mum. You've been amazing."

She smiled again, and the smile made everything ache, "Sammy, I hardly ever say this, and I know it seems like I was so busy with work, but I love you so much. I would have given up everything for you."

"You did. You gave up that... that police job, where you had to travel around everywhere. You did that for me."

"Yeah. I did."

She was going to die soon. She knew that: she'd accepted that. But it just wasn't fair, was it? On her family, on her friends. Her syndicate – what the hell were they going to do? Well, she knew Julie was taking her job, actually; she'd work well with Janet and Rachel. But Kevin... oh, poor Kevin.

Everything was going to go on around her, everything was going to be replaced. And people would be sad, but gradually they'd build their worlds back up without her there, and the pain would fade, and they'd forget. And all the courage in the world couldn't save her from that.

"Hi, can I..." Janet appeared in the doorway, looking apprehensive, "I brought you a sandwich, Sammy. A growing boy needs to eat, doesn't he, Gill? And I brought you a coffee too, just..."

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded, realised they didn't need babbling right now. She sat down next to Sammy, took Gill's other hand. She was going to take care of Sammy, after Gill left him, in an unofficial capacity. Taisie and Elise had always looked up to him like a big brother, and he was a sweet boy; Janet loved him.

Things were going to be okay; they all had to keep believing that.

Gill whispered to her son, "You'll always be my baby boy, you know that?"

Sammy leant over and wrapped his arms around her, breathed in the warmth of her skin, felt her heart thudding against his. He sobbed into her hair, and she held him tight with the last of her strength.

"I want to be... I want to be like you, Mum. I'm g-going to be like y-you, and I'm going to make you proud... p-proud of me."

"I'm proud of you now, Sammy. I always have been. I always will be."

XxXxX