The Girl In The Yellow Top

It was her favourite, so why didn’t Ava want to wear it any more?

JEMMA watches her daughter fold the last of the clothes on the bed and place them on top of the others in the rucksack. On the floral duvet cover lies Ava’s flight confirmation and passport, its cover shiny through lack of use.

Ava picks it up and opens it. Jemma knows the picture she’ll be looking at – the dark hair tamed by a comb found at the bottom of her handbag, her favourite yellow top warming her beautiful, caramel-coloured skin.

Ava leans forward, holding out the passport for her to see.

“Do you remember when this was taken?”

Jemma moves away from the wardrobe and sits next to her daughter on the bed.

“Yes. It was the day after you got your A-levels. We went into town to the post office to get it done, and then stopped at the café for milkshakes on the way home to celebrate.”

“It was the day I split up with Charlie.”

Jemma’s smile slips. How could she have forgotten her daughter’s heartache?

“Oh, Ava. I thought you’d got over it. It was months ago now.”

She regrets the words as soon as they leave her lips.

Ava turns to face her, her dark eyes shining.

“You’re going to say I should have moved on by now.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, darling.”

Why would she, when she knew how much lost love could hurt?

Ava zips up the rucksack, then stands and tests its weight.

“You were thinking it.” Feeling guilty, Jemma busies herself putting away the discarded clothes that have been left in a heap on the floor.

It reminds her of the day Ava first came to them – an angry, wild-haired child, thin arms wrapped tightly around her body and dark defiance in her eyes, symbols of past rejections.

The few belongings she’d brought had been emptied on to the floor, a test for Jemma and Tim, her husband.

Jemma hadn’t commented, instead opening her bedroom door on to her own messy room.

She remembered how Ava had stared, wide-eyed, at the blue puddle of Tim’s dressing-gown on the floor, and the pile of Jemma’s own clothes on the chair by the window.

“See? You’ll fit in well,” she’d said.

“Did you always know you were going to keep me?”

The question catches her off guard. It’s one Ava has never asked before.

“No, I suppose I didn’t. We thought it would only be for a few months, but, well, things don’t always work out the way you imagine.”

Jemma looks fondly at the young woman who’s been part of their family for the past nine years. Ava was the third child they’d fostered, but there had always been something different about her. Something special.

At first it hadn’t been easy. Ava could be demanding, refusing to go to bed or eat the nutritious food she put in front of her.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Jemma started to catch glimpses of the sunny child Ava might have been if things had been different.

Then came the day the social worker arrived at the house, her face grave. Ava’s mother had lost her battle with the drugs she never managed to give up.

She and Tim agreed that Ava had weathered enough insecurity in her nine years. It was time she had a permanent home.

“Travelling will be fun, won’t it?”

It’s a statement rather than a question, but Jemma hears the thread of uncertainty in Ava’s voice.

“Of course. I remember when I was your age . . .”

“I know. You went around Europe on a train, lived off chips and cheap beer and slept on beaches.” Jemma smiles.

“It wasn’t quite like that, but I learned a lot from that trip.”

Like how time can heal a broken heart, she thinks.

“And you met Dad in Florence.” Ava

knows it’s a story Jemma never tires of telling. “He was with a bunch of lads from his work and was in the Van Gogh museum.”

“And he said, ‘I came here hoping to see some fine art, but I never expected to see something as lovely as you’.” Ava screws up her face. “That really is the worst chat-up line ever!”

“He was only nineteen. You have to allow him a little corniness.”

As she speaks, she spies something yellow under the pile of clothes she’s sorting. It’s Ava’s yellow top, soft and slightly faded from wear and the many times it’s been washed.

“Not taking this? I thought it was your favourite. You lived in it last year.”

Ava shakes her head. “No.” Taking it, she holds it to her chest a moment, then throws it back on the floor. “I don’t like it any more.”

Jemma realises her mistake. It was what Ava wore the day Charlie told her he no longer wanted to go travelling with her.

That he no longer wanted to be with her at all.

When he came to pick her up that afternoon, to take her for a walk along the canal, Ava was excited to tell him her exam results and talk about Australia.

No wonder she doesn’t want to take the yellow top with her, Jemma thinks.

It was her favourite, but Ava had mentioned that it was Charlie’s favourite, too. It was the reason she had worn it that afternoon.

Instead of putting the yellow top away, Jemma leaves it on top of the chest of drawers next to a photograph in a wooden frame.

It’s of the three of them in their garden. Ava stands in the middle, holding both their hands. She looks so little, it’s hard to believe she’s grown up now.

There’s a knock at the door and Tim pokes his head round.

“Excited?” A big smile masks the sadness Jemma knows he must be feeling. Ava shrugs.

“I don’t know how I’m feeling. Scared, I think.”

Tim comes into the room and pulls Ava to him, resting his stubbled chin on her mane of unruly hair.

“It will be an adventure. You can send pictures, Facetime . . . I want to know all about this crazy place you’re visiting.” Ava laughs.

“It’s Australia, Dad. Not the moon!”

“It might as well be to me. I’ve never been further than Amsterdam, and look what happened there!”

He winks at Jemma over the top of Ava’s head and she feels a wave of affection for the large man whose twinkling eyes were the first thing that attracted her to him, all those years ago in the art gallery.

“And it’s only for eight weeks,” Ava adds, her voice muffled.

“I know, I know. I’ll miss you, that’s all. Isn’t that allowed?”

He directs the question at Jemma and she gives an encouraging smile.

“Of course it’s allowed.” Dropping a kiss on Ava’s head, he turns to leave but, as he reaches the door, his elbow catches the glass that’s on the bedside table.

It hits the wall, then shatters on the floor, drips of water running down the paint like tears.

“I’m a clumsy oaf!” “It’s all right, Dad.” Ava is there, pushing him out of the door. “You go and make us a cup of tea. I’ll clear it up.”

She wants something to do. Something to pass the last few hours until it’s time to go to the airport.

Tim nods, understanding. “Give me a shout when you’re ready.”

He leaves the room and Jemma helps Ava picks up the pieces of glass, putting them into an empty cereal bowl her daughter hadn’t taken to the kitchen.

“I never told you, but I was in love with someone when I went travelling. Someone who broke my heart only days before I was due to leave.

“I was going to bail out, but my mum persuaded me it would be a good thing to go. I’m glad she did.”

There’s a card on the table beside Ava’s bed. The water has pooled on its shiny surface.

Jemma picks it up and wipes it on her sleeve. She knows what it says inside. I’ll always be there for you.

She’s surprised Ava hasn’t put it away in the drawer with Charlie’s photograph and her other personal things.

She looks over at Ava but the girl’s eyes are far away. “Thinking about Charlie?” “I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. It hurts.” Ava drops a piece of glass into the bowl.

Jemma’s heart goes out to her.

“You can’t fall in love expecting it not to hurt.” She looks at the glass in the bowl. “It’s like dropping a glass and expecting it not to break.”

“I know that. It’s just that, whenever I let someone into my life, they let me down.”

She reaches across and takes Ava’s hand.

“Not always, darling. I used to think that once, but not any more.”

“Dad never let you down, did he?”

“No, he never did. Or you, either.” Wiping the card on her sleeve, she hands it to Ava. “He meant what he said, you know.”

Tim had given Ava the card the day the adoption had been finalised. It had been by her bed ever since. Ava smiles.

“I know he did. You’ve both always been there for me.”

“And we always will, even if, for the next few weeks, it will be on a computer screen! Shall we take your stuff down to the hall now? You don’t want to be late.”

“OK. I don’t want Maddie to be hanging around waiting for me.”

“See, there’s Maddie, too.”

“I know, Mum. And I think I’m getting the teensiest bit excited. Charlie doesn’t know what he’s missing!”

“That’s my girl. When you go through that boarding gate, I want you to do one thing for me.”

Ava hoists the rucksack on to her back. “What’s that?” “Don’t look back.” “Why?”

Jemma smiles. “Because that’s not the way you’re going.”

Two days later, Tim and Jemma are sitting in front of the computer. Ava has just finished breathlessly telling them about her day – the things she and Maddie have seen, the people they’ve met.

But it’s not her words that have made Jemma smile, it’s the sunny yellow top she’s wearing. She must have taken it with her, after all.

“I’ve always liked that top,” Tim says, then laughs. “Probably why I bought it for you.”

Jemma smiles. The thought of her husband in a clothes shop has always amused her.

Ava looks down. “Yes,” she says. “It’s my favourite.” n

Tim had given Ava the card the day the adoption papers came