I enter the kitchen to find Mum and Dad waiting for me. The table is set with a plate at each setting containing a boiled egg, cut in half, slices of smoked salmon and a mound of mixed tuna with mayonnaise. Bowls in the centre of the table hold mixed green leaves, tomatoes and an assortment of pre-prepared salad mixes from the deli.
Dad’s holding a bottle of Merlot and a corkscrew. “This is my last chance to have a ‘wee swally’ with my lunch for a while. I’m back to work from tomorrow.”
“That reminds me, I want to call Margaret to ask if I can start back,” I say.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Briony? I don’t know if you’re ready yet. You’ve seemed quite distracted today,” Mum says.
“No, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to feel trapped. I couldn’t stand being cooped up a
