When Love Is Not Enough by Cherry Willoughby

Author:Cherry Willoughby [Willoughby, Cherry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 148007912X
Amazon: B00BBMGC6M
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

A fresh start.

The Spanish sun kissed our faces as we disembarked the aircraft. The girls held my hands, and we walked into the terminal to get our cases. Maryann looked up at the window of the viewing room and saw Dad waving. “Look there’s Granddad!” she announced loudly. Both she and Nicola waved frantically up at dad who was smiling and laughing at the girls' excitement. After we got our cases we walked through the 'nothing to declare' door and then dad was there with arms outstretched. “Granddad!” The girls shrieked, then both ran up to him and threw their arms around him. “Woah! steady there girls you nearly had me over!” Dad laughed. “Well we’re here!” I said with a shrug and a smile. Dad picked up my case being the heaviest. “Welcome to your new home!”

As soon as we got back to the villa, Maryann and Nicola wanted to get in the pool, they were far too excited to help me unpack, so I let them go ahead while I decided whose clothes would go where. Dad, only had one room to offer us, so he had put two beds at one end for the girls and one at the other for me. He had cleverly made a partition in the middle with a sliding door, so I could have some privacy. After I had unpacked most of our clothes I went out into the lounge and Dad handed me a cup of tea. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” he said as he saw me watching the girls playing in the pool through the patio window. He could see that although I saw this as a new start, I was unsure if I had made the right decision. Although the girls were playing and laughing, splashing and having fun in the pool, I knew they didn’t really know what a huge step we had made. I wondered if they realised that this was not a holiday and there was no going back. In the following few weeks, I put off finding a school for the girls, I wanted them to have fun, to have a break from all the pressure we had endured in England. No more interviews with social workers asking them the same questions repeatedly, as if the next time they answered it would be different and the social services could at last find a fault with our parenting or abuse. In the last few years, the social services had done nothing to help with Maryann at all. They seemed convinced that something was going on at home to make her the way she was, and they wouldn’t stop until they found out what, and no amount of me telling them that Maryann was the way she was, and needed professional help was going to change their minds.

Days on the beach, trips and wandering around different shops and towns filled our time. The girls’ complexions became beautiful shades of deep gold. They looked healthy and above all they were happy and having the times of their lives.

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