Aye, Isla and I will be there.
Lachlan, why don’t you invite that nanny of yours along? She was a laugh the other day. Bonny too.
Something sharp and unwelcome twists in my chest. Bonny too. Aye, she is. But the thought of Struan’s easy charm working on Blair, of him making her laugh the way he does with all the mums at the Pit...
No. Not today.
Lachlan
Nah, too sunny for soft play. Finn and I have other plans. Next time.
I plate up the food and carry it to the table. Finn’s already sliding into his chair, eyes bright, smacking his lips. Gus hovers close, tail swishing hopefully.
“Dig in, lad.”
He needs no encouragement, squeezing ketchup onto his plate then attacking his bacon. I add brown sauce to my own plate then cut a bit off a sausage and toss it to Gus. He catches it midair.
Finn munches away with gusto, but between mouthfuls he’s already thinking ahead. “I can’t wait to play with Isla and the twins later. Maybe we’ll finish the superhero game we were playing at the sleepover. It was so?—”
“We’re not going to the Pit today.”
“What?” His fork clatters against the plate. “But we always go on Saturdays!” His lower lip juts out, full pout engaged.
“Aye, usually. But I thought we could go to Traigh Bàn instead.” I pause, letting this sink in. “And invite Blair along.”
The transformation is instant. His eyes go wide, the pout vanishing like it was never there. “Really? We can invite Blair even though it’s the weekend and it’s not her job to look after me?”
“We can invite her, but I can’t guarantee she’ll say yes. Why don’t we see what she thinks?”
“Now?” He’s halfway off his chair already.
“You’ve got a few mouthfuls left of that sausage.”
He demolishes it in record time then bolts for the back door, Gus bounding after him like they’re off to save the world. I follow at a more measured pace, but I’m no less eager than he is.
Finn pounds on the granny flat door with all the subtlety of a battering ram. “Blair! Blair, it’s us!”
The door opens, and there she is. Hair sleep-ruffled, an oversized jumper slipping off one shoulder, but just as breathtaking as ever. She looks surprised but pleased to see us.
“We’re going on an adventure today, and you’re coming too!” Finn announces.
“Only if you want to,” I add quickly, suddenly feeling like a lad asking a lass to the school dance. “No worries if you’ve got other plans.”
That smile of hers—bright, unfiltered—hits me square in the chest. “Sounds like fun. I’m in.”
Finn whoops with delight, already tugging on her hand. “Can we go now? Can we? I’ll get my bucket and spade!”
Outwardly I’m calm, but truthfully I’m just as pleased as my son. Maybe more.
“Give Blair a chance to get ready first,” I tell Finn. Then, to Blair, “We’ll head off in an hour?”
“Perfect,” she says.
The drive to Traigh Bàn, Gaelic for “white beach”, takes twenty minutes. Finn chatters about sand castles and buried treasure the whole way, Blair occasionally punctuating his monologue with delighted exclamations when the coastal road grants us a particularly spectacular view.
When we crest the final hill and the beach spreads out below us—miles of pristine white sand kissed by turquoise water—Blair goes quiet. Then she breathes, “Oh my God. This place is beautiful!”
I pull into the small car park. As soon as I turn off the engine, Finn rockets out of the car, Gus bounding after him towards the dunes. Blair and I follow at a more measured pace. I carry the rucksack with our supplies while she has the picnic blanket tucked under one arm.
