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A bi clutched the silk wrapped bundle of letters as Mackenzie navigated the quiet suburban streets. Warrigal giggled in the back seat as Krystal tickled him. The happy sound seemed incongruous to her feelings. Abi was silent as she mulled over how to introduce herself to a woman whose life she was about to change.

Mackenzie pulled to the curb and Abi glanced up the steep pebble driveway. The low-set home perched at the top was the picture of homely bliss. Neatly manicured lawns, flower beds bursting with colour, hedges trimmed to perfection. Abi sat for a long time, reluctant to step out.

Mackenzie touched her shoulder. “Go on. You need to.”

Abi nodded. He was right. She needed to do this, for both Charlie and his daughter. She held the letters to her chest as she walked up the driveway, listening to the sound of children playing somewhere in the distance.

She knocked on the door and a little girl in a yellow dress appeared before her.

The name Nikki instantly jumped to her mind, but the word wouldn’t release from her lips. Charlie had written with nothing but pride for his little granddaughter, even though he’d never met her.

The girl stared up at Abi with light blue eyes fringed with dark eyelashes, and then she gasped. “Hey Mum, the lady from the plane crash is here.”

Abi grimaced. The publicity from their survival had her exposed like a celebrity and she hated it.

A tall, lanky woman rounded the corner with a quizzical look on her face. “Hello.” A deep frown rippled her forehead.

“Hello, Holly. My name is Abi. I knew your father and he wanted me to give you something.”

Holly tilted her head. “But my father died when I was a child.”

So, this was the reason for Charlie’s wife’s cruel behaviour. Abi had suspected as much. Once she’d started the lie, she could never turn back.

There was no easy way to say this. “No, he didn’t. He died two years ago in the plane crash I survived.” She reluctantly held the bundle out.

A look of confusion crossed Holly’s face and then her expression grew angry as she stared at the letters. “What’s this?” Blinking at the bundle, she reached for them.

“Your father wrote many letters to you, but your mother always returned them.”

Holly groaned and her body visibly shrunk. “Do you want to come in?” Her voice wobbled with emotion.

“When you’re ready to talk … ring me.” Abi handed her one of Charlie’s petite floral embossed pages with her contact details written on it and tears welled in Holly’s eyes.

Abi turned and walked back to her waiting family and as a small white butterfly danced in delicate circles before her, she thought of Charlie and smiled.

His dying wish, which he’d written so eloquently in his last letter, was finally satisfied.

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