I had decided to make my fears formal, and Mum’s reaction mirrored her big worry too.
The noise of the clock hands was becoming clearer and louder as the seconds passed by. Time was crucial. We were waiting for the door handle to turn, for that quick, sudden movement that would fade our fears and set us free in the peace of living together. But that was not coming, and we were dying just to get some news from them. A simple three-second phone call to let us know they were safe and sound. What could have happened? Could it be that they had been returned to Albania? Or something else, something a lot worse than this … I didn’t want to let my thoughts go too far.