by Martin Vosper
Martha sat down on the sofa again and sobbed quietly so he wouldn’t hear; she’d lost count of how many times she’d been overcome by tears these past few weeks. From upstairs came the sounds of packing: clattering coat hangers, banging drawers and cupboards, then finally the thump of a suitcase being hefted from bed to floor.
The moment she’d been dreading had arrived. More tears flowed as she thought about how desolate she’d feel once he’d gone.
She understood the inevitability; people grow and change. Martha had known for longer than she cared to admit that one day he’d leave her. It was his own choice to go and she loved him too much to stand in his way.
A taxi pulled up outside.
As Martha heard heavy footsteps coming downstairs, she dabbed at her tears and got up to meet him in the hall; the hint of self-satisfied smirk played around his lips, but she didn’t react. She was determined to remain dignified to the end; she had to be strong for both of them.
“Goodbye,” sobbed Martha, flinging her arms around her son for what felt like the last time, holding him tight to her, “You will ring us as soon as you get to University, won’t you?”
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