We had just finished dinner and I was about to go and find Phoenix when my parents appeared and intercepted us both. Mum launched into an enthusiastic and thoroughly apologetic explanation of why she had not been able to watch the fights, which I genuinely did not mind. I had known from the moment we discussed it that she would not be able to stomach watching me in a fight to the death and I had not expected her there. Dad expressed similar emotions but kept the volume of them considerably lower in the presence of my mate, which was very him.
Phoenix excused himself with a quiet word and my parents and I made our way to a small private communal space in one of the back gardens. I breathed in the fresh air properly for the first time in what felt like days and let the quiet greenery do its work on the noise still running through my head. It had been a relentless stretch of time and the stillness of the garden was exactly what I had not known I needed.
