"Morning, Stacey."

George enters the building of his workplace, smiling at one of the younger employees who works there. The young lady returns the smile to her colleague, momentarily pausing what she's working on to talk to him.

"Morning, George. Did you have a good Christmas?" she asks.

"It was lovely, thanks," George answers. "How was your Christmas?"

"Yeah, it was great," she chuckles, before showing off a pretty silver ring upon her fourth finger. "My boyfriend proposed to me."

"Well, that's fantastic," George grins. "Congratulations, darling."

"Thank you," Stacey says, before voicing an opinion she may have been holding off from until now. "I have to say, George — and please take it as a compliment — but you're looking a lot happier lately."

"I'm glad you've noticed that." George leans his back, covered with a pristine white button-up, against a wall as he converses with her. "Since my mum died, I've been in therapy. You wouldn't believe the world of difference it's made. Did you know, a couple of months back, I tried to end things?"

"Really?" Stacey frowns, sympathy evident in her facial expression. "I'm so sorry you went through that. I'm glad you're feeling happier now."

"Thank you," George answers. "Things have definitely improved." He glances at his phone, in order to check the time, before he looks back at his colleague. "Well, it's almost time for me to start my shift. I'll catch up with you later."

Stacey nods, understanding all too well. "Alright, my lovely. Have a good day!"

As George heads towards the clocking machine to punch in the start of his shift, he bumps into another colleague of his. "Good morning, Marzia. How are we this morning?"

"Not so great, to be honest," the woman, in her mid-thirties, admits. "But I don't want to burden anybody about it all."

"Now, that's not what I like to hear," George asserts, giving her a reassuring look. "You can talk to me about it, if you want to. I may not be the most significant person in your life, but I'm somebody who can listen."

Just these kind words are enough to encourage Marzia to divulge what's on her mind. "Well, uh, my dad died over Christmas. I've not really been taking it well, to be honest with you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," George apologises, relating to the concept of losing a parent far too familiarly. "I lost my mum back in late August. I know how shit it all is."

"It just feels as though things will never get better," Marzia explains. "I know it's only been three or four days since he passed, but ... I just don't know how you get on with life as well as you do, George."

"To be honest with you, Marzia ... I haven't gotten on with it very well at all," George confesses. "See, I don't know if you noticed at all ... but I hadn't been myself for a long time after my mum died. A couple of months ago, I tried to end my life, because I just couldn't handle the grief at all."

"Are you serious?" Although Marzia is concerned for her friend, her tone doesn't quite emphasise this due to how dejected she is. "That's horrible. But ... how did you start to feel better again?"

"To tell you the truth, there was a few different things that helped me along the way," George informs her. "First of all, I eventually started therapy. And the therapist referred me to bereavement counselling. It worked wonders, I tell you. But really, it wasn't just the professional help that did it — I had the most brilliant set of family and friends a man could ask for. I would have been dead right now if it weren't for my husband and my kids; and my family and my friends. They all really saved my life. I went private for the therapy, but it was worth every penny. But if you don't fancy facing the therapy yourself, I can always give you the tips and coping mechanisms I was taught, to deal with the grief in a healthier way. And you'll have my word, as well, that you'll always have me as a friend to talk to about it."

"I don't know what to say," Marzia remarks, taken aback by the generosity and kindness of somebody she only ever sees in a professional environment. "Th-Thank you, George. I really appreciate the support. To be honest, I've not wanted to tell anybody about how low I've felt. It's really comforting to know that I'm not alone with all of this."

"You're never alone," George assures her. "If I've learnt anything in the last couple of months, it's that we're never truly alone. There will always be somebody around you who cares enough about you to listen when you're not feeling your best. Losing somebody is a big thing — particularly somebody as close as a parent — and it isn't something that should just be brushed under the carpet."

"You're right," Marzia agrees, though with less enthusiasm as George seems to display. "Thank you. And, um, if you ever feel like you need to talk to somebody about your feelings, you can come to me too. I know you have your family and friends ... but the offer is still there."

"Thank you, Marzia." George gives a gracious smile, to accompany his words of appreciation. He punches his shift start time into the clocking machine, before heaving an over-exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess we should start this slog we call "work". Honestly, the nerve these guys have to bring us in on December the twenty-seventh. It's practically Christmas Day the Third."

Marcia expels the softest laughter at her colleague. "Oh yes, I agree."

The pair continue their lighthearted discussion as they make their way over to their respective desks, ready to start the day of work.

• • •

iMessage: Melanie (Sis)

Are you still at work, Gogos? Need to call you

"That's odd," George comments to Levi, later on that day. "Mel has just messaged me asking if she can call me."

"Do you think it's about the guy who got arrested for attacking your mum?" Levi questions, having turned his attention from the news article he's reading on his phone. "It must be important if she's calling you."

"Shit! You're right," George gasps, making quick work to text his sister back.

Hey, been at home about an hour. Call me!!

"I hope it's some good news," Levi states, now invested in what the phone call could possibly be about. "Maybe he's been sentenced at last."

"I guess we'll find out."

George checks the text message conversation, spotting that Melanie has read his response. Moments later, his phone rings in his hand, so he makes quick work of answering it.

"Gogos?" Melanie calls.

"Hi, Mel," George greets. "Are you alright? Has something happened?"

"Yes, something has happened," she answers, almost seeming breathless. "That bastard got sentenced. I literally just got off the phone to the police about it."

"Oh fuck," George remarks, anticipation suddenly building up within him. "What did he get?"

"He got what he deserved, George," Melanie tells him; just by the breaking of her voice, he can tell that she's starting to cry over the line. "He got life for killing Mum; and he got life for killing some other man who was at the scene, that I didn't even know about. And he's not eligible for parole. He's stuck in there for the rest of his natural life."

"Are you serious?" George gasps, raising his hand to clasp his mouth in shock. "He's really—?"

"Yes!" Melanie cries. "Isn't it just the best outcome, Gogos? We got justice for Mum and for that other guy."

"Yes, it's fantastic." By now, George too is becoming overwhelmed with emotion at the news. "Thank you for telling me. I'm going to tell Levi and the Goring lot about this. Thank you for telling me."

"It's no problem," Melanie replies. "I'm glad that fucker is going to stay in jail for good. And I'm glad nobody from our family was there to see him during the trial or the sentencing. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of us giving him all that attention."

"I completely agree with you," George responds. "He didn't deserve anything else for what he did."

"Exactly." With these words spoken, Melanie feels that it's fitting to conclude the conversation. "Anyway, Gogos — I'll leave you to it. We're going to celebrate this end. I hope you'll do the same your end."

"Of course. Have a good evening, Mel. Talk soon."

"Thanks. You too. Talk soon."

George hears the sound of the line going dead in his ear, so he locks his mobile phone once more; and he rests it face-down on the sofa where he's sat. He notices that Levi is observing him anxiously, clearly wanting to know the verdict of what his husband has been told.

"Don't leave me in suspense, George. I can't handle it."

George doesn't speak immediately; instead, tears cluster in his caramel eyes, threatening to spill over his dark Greek lashes. A shaky laugh tumbles from his lips; the moment is incomprehensibly bittersweet, to the point where he is overcome with emotion. He leans forward into Levi's arms, feeling the warm embrace from his beloved instantly.

"He got life, twice," he just about manages to choke out. "Life for killing Mum; and life for killing Stephen."

"That's the perfect outcome," Levi responds, squeezing his lover even tighter than before. "And I'm so beyond proud of you for how you've coped with all of this."

"Thank you." George lets out small sobs, feeling joy — of course, not because of his mother's passing; but rather, because the perpetrator got exactly what he deserved.

"We have to tell my mum and Daniel about this," Levi points out, withdrawing from his husband. He feels the wetness on his shoulder from where George's tears have stained his shirt, but he couldn't care less in this moment. "They'll be so happy for us. And your mum would be so happy, too. Everyone will be feeling so much better about all this. I know it isn't as good as having your mum back ... but now the bastard who did it has to suffer the rest of his life, isolated and alone."

George nods, understanding what Levi is saying. "And I hope he hates every miserable second of it."

• • •

Later on in the evening, George finds himself leaning against the fencing in his back garden. It's dark out by now, and the moon is high; so it reflects a warm yellow glow onto the water before him.

He has had to wrap up for the occasion — his slender torso is protected with a flattering winter jacket; a woollen hat sits upon his shaven head; and his usual leather gloves adorn his fingers. There's always a certain serenity, in his eyes, just by simply standing outside at dusk. He inhales through his nose slowly, taking in the crisp, cold night air. His gaze shifts upwards, to the sky — he admires all the stars above him; the tiny specks of light that each tell their own story.

"I know you're up there, watching me, Mum," George begins. "You're the brightest star up there, aren't you? Well, you'd better be. Aren't you glad we got justice for you today, hey? He got his comeuppance, at last. Of course, I'd rather have you here, than have got some random bloke put away for murder ... but with what we've got to work with, it's still a victory for us. For you. For Stephen. For Margo from the graveyard. For our families. For everyone.

"I'm not going to stand out here blabbering on at you all night, though. It's far too cold for me to be doing that. I just wanted to feel close to you for a few moments, in a sense. Just you and I. Talking to you brings me comfort. I think it'll be my main source of comfort for the rest of my life. But there was a couple of things I wanted to say to you, before I go back inside for the evening.

"First of all, I hope you're proud of me. I know I've messed up a lot — not just these last few months, but my entire life. I've made mistakes; and I've gone about plenty of stuff in the entirely wrong way. But I've learnt a lot of stuff along the way. Life is just one big learning curve, really, isn't it? And even now, at the age of fifty-one, I've still got stuff to learn. There's things that I know now, that I never knew before; but by the same token, there's things that I lack even today. But I think I've come pretty far, and I hope you recognise that.

"Anyway, the other thing you should know, is that ... " He hesitates in his speech for a moment, smiling up mellowly at the brightest star. "I no longer blame myself for your death, Mum."

With a newfound peace within himself, George slowly starts to make his way back into the house.

"Goodnight, Mum. Sleep tight."

• • •

Dear Diary,

It's been a little while since I wrote in here. However, today I have a reason to.

We got justice for Mum.

We did it. We bloody did it.

I hope now, she will finally be able to rest easily. The Lord knows she certainly deserves it.

Until the next time I have anything remotely interesting to write in here ...

Yog x

• • •

Chapter thirty-six! I can't believe there's only four more chapters left! xx