I put my arms round her shoulders and my mouth next to her ear.
Four words.
“Rhys told me everything.”
PART 2 — THE CAR
In the February of 2021 we were at the worst of it. That was the year of the second procedure and the year I stopped driving for four months.
Yolande asked Rhys to run her to an appointment.
And in that car, on a dual carriageway, she asked her son whether he had thought about whether this was going to be his whole life.
Not hinted. Asked.
And then she said that if it came to it she would pay for a solicitor, and that nobody would think anything of him for it, and that he was thirty-two.
He came home that night and told me all of it in our kitchen within about four minutes of walking through the door, because that is who he is.
He has never spoken to her about it since. Not once in four years. He said his piece in the car and then he decided that saying it again was not going to change her and would cost him his father.
