As well as Derek and Nancy, Terry and Anne had also arrived to shuttle us back to Sheffield. I saw each one of them momentarily scan the hall for Ben. They couldn’t help it. It was habit. We were all just so used to seeing him. Dad had arranged accommodation as best he could. He and Stephen would stay with his sister. Mum and Danny would stay with hers. Ben the corgi was in the custody of the quarantine officers for the next six months, and I would be staying with Grandma and Granddad. We set off there first, in convoy. Mum wanted everyone to hear the full story in person. As soon as Grandma saw me, she broke down. She said what the others had thought. ‘I can’t believe he’s not coming back with you. It’s not real.’ It was 16 September 1991. The first day of the rest of our lives. We’d come back to England partly for medical help, so I set off to register with a local GP. I was still on Grandma’s road when a woman did a double-take of me, then walked on. I ignored her, but I had the sense of being watched the whole way there.
