Eighteen

"Wow, this is amazing," Kitty spins, her skirt whirling out around her, until she stumbles, dizzy and giggling into Thomas' arms. "It's perfect! I can change the back room into a kitchen, and have the displays and things in the window. What do you think?"

"It's very…white."

"White's good. Neutral."

"How much is she selling it to you for?"

"Fifteen thousand, because it's so small."

"Can you afford it?"

"I'll be able to if Rosalie wrangles enough money from him as a settlement."

"I don't like you using his money for stuff, Kitty."

She looks at him with her large, dark eyes and takes his hands. "Tom. Think of it as payback for all the hurts he caused me."

He sighs. "Alright then."

She kisses his cheek, and laughs, going back to talking about displays. He loves seeing her so happy.

…

Sometimes, Flora goes and sits in the hospital carpark, fisting her hands on the steering wheel, watching the may blossom tumble to the ground like confetti. Confetti. She tries to gather up the courage to stand up and push her way into Charlie's hospital room, to fight for him like she's fought for everything else in her life, but it doesn't happen. Maybe it's better this way.

…

The time does a funny sort of skip forward, and before she knows it, the final hearing is barrelling down onto them, and she's dressing smartly in her black skirt and blouse and heels with shaking hands.

"It's going to be fine," Thomas says from the bedroom doorway. "Phone me if you need anything."

"I will."

He kisses her, his hands finding her waist, and she wraps her arms around his neck, wishing she could stay like this forever, wishing that she didn't have to face Elliott Vincent. But she does. And she's going to.

Today is the day she's going to get her daughter back. She can feel it in her bones.

He's sitting in his office that evening, sorting through files and notes for an article when the phone rings, snapping his train of thought.

"Damn," he says to himself, reaching over for it. Probably some other surgeon forgotten something or left notes here that he needed. "Hello, Dr Gillan speaking."

"Tom." Kitty's voice is breathless.

"Kitty, what happened?" All thoughts of the article and the papers fly out of his mind. He can't tell from her voice. Good or bad. Sylvie or no Sylvie.

"We won," she says. "We won it. I'm getting Sylvie back tomorrow, Tom, I…"

"That's fantastic," he says, his voice cracking. "I'm so proud of you. I'll be home in twenty minutes."

"I'm waiting."

The line goes dead. He smiles all the way back to their building.

…

Kitty is waiting for him in her sitting room, and the second he sees her, he pulls her into his arms and, off-balance, they fall onto the sofa in a tangle of arms and legs, kissing and holding each other, until she starts to cry.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm…I'm just so happy," she says, and he kisses the tears from her cheeks, brushes her hair away from her face.

"Tell me everything."

It happened like this. She'd arrived. Gone to the bathroom. Elliott had found her, pushed her against a wall, and threatened her. She screamed. The door opened and judge was there, and after that, the case was won. It took all of half an hour to settle, Kitty would get custody of her daughter and annual child support in the hundreds of thousands. It's better than either of them would have dreamed.

"When does she arrive?"

"We're picking her up from the train station, tomorrow."

…

In the morning, he watches from the bed as Kitty gets dressed and throws up her hair, smiling uncontrollably at nothing. When Sylvie's back, how will things change? How will they be around each other like they are now with an excitable six year old running around?

She sits on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and facing him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Tom."

"Fine. I was just wondering…what happens, now she's back. This is a one-bedroom flat, Kitty…"

"I was thinking that we could get somewhere else."

"We?"

"Us. You and me and Sylvie."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?"

She flushes, bright red spreading across her skin. "Well, yes. If you want to. Do you?"

"Yes," he says, sitting up properly, reaching out to skim his fingers across her shoulders. "Of course I do, what do you take me for?"

"I didn't tell you," she says, "but there's a flat above the shop. Two bedrooms. It's a bit bigger than this, but it might work."

"How?"

"I got chatting to the lady who lives in it – she's not certain yet, but she's thinking of moving to Edinburgh to be closer to her family."

"But if she is…"

"I can talk to her, find out who the landlord is."

"Are you sure?"

She touches his face, sliding her hands up his cheeks, and rests her forehead against his. "Never been surer."

…

They wait at the station, hand in hand, with a sign that Kitty insisted on making saying Welcome Home Sylvie, and when the arrivals board says that the train is two minutes away, Kitty starts shifting from foot to foot.

He squeezes her hand. "Excited?"

"You have no idea."

There's a flood of people rushing through the automated ticket barriers, and then a woman holding onto the hand of a small dark-haired girl.

"Sylvie!" Kitty says, letting go of Thomas and taking a step forward. Sylvie looks up and then she's let go of the woman and is rushing towards Kitty, who sweeps her up into a hug, holding onto her tightly as though she'll never let her go again. She breathes in the scent of her daughter's hair, all strawberry shampoo and baby, presses her even closer. "I missed you, little monkey. I missed you so, so much."

A/N I'm so sorry, guys. I cannot apologise enough for the long, long, long wait. I promise you, this story is going to be finished if it takes me a decade, which it won't because there are about two chapters left and my muse has finally come back. I was so busy with school and life and everything, but after a bit of a hiatus, I'm back for good this time! Enjoy! N xxx