“Just fine? Come on, you must be reading some good stuff. What have they got you on?War and Peace? The complete works of Shakespeare?”
A tiny smile tugs at her mouth. “We’re doingCharlotte’s Web.”
“Ah, the spider book. Classic. Though personally, I always thought Wilbur was a bit of a drama queen.”
“Da.” She rolls her eyes, but the smile’s still there.
“What? He was! ‘Oh no, I’m going to be bacon!’ Meanwhile, Charlotte’s out there writing actual words in a web, and does she get any credit?”
She giggles, shaking her head like I’m the daftest person alive.
Good. That’s better.
“Listen, princess, your mum said you were a bit upset earlier. About the sleepover?”
Her smile falters. She nods.
“Tell you what,” I say, like the idea’s just occurred to me, “how about you have your own sleepover? At your mum’s place. Next weekend, if it suits Katie and Freya.”
She turns to me, eyes brightening. “Really?”
“Course. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning instead of Friday night. Give you the whole evening with your pals.”
“Can we have pizza? And watch films? And make friendship bracelets?”
She’s already planning the whole thing out. There’s no “but that means one night less with you, Da!” Not that I expected it. Besides, her grin right now is worth trading a Friday evening for.
“Sounds good to me, and I’m sure your mum’ll be fine with all of that.”
She pulls a wee notebook from her rucksack—because of course she packed a notebook—and starts scribbling. “We’ll need snacks. Good ones, not healthy ones. And maybe we could do makeovers? Oh, and ghost stories!”
I chuckle. There’s my girl.
“Can we go to the shop tomorrow? To get crisps and sweets?”
“Absolutely.”
She beams at me, a proper smile this time. “Thanks, Da.”
“Anything for you, princess.” I nod towards a sign for Duntreath. “Fancy stopping at that restaurant you like? The one that does the ice cream sundaes?”
“Yes!” She actually bounces in her seat. “Can I get the one with the sparklers?”
“If you eat some actual food first.”
“Deal!”
CHAPTER TEN
AINSLEY
“Argh! Ya cheap pile of shite!” The words echo off my bedroom walls as the bed frame collapses. Again.
I glare at the instruction manual spread open on the carpet. The diagrams look like they were drawn by someone who’s never seen a bed, let alone built one. Connect A and B? Okay, sure. Except the wee holes on B don’t bloody line up with A.
The gentle music ofIn the Night Gardendrifts up through the floorboards, all soothing and dreamy. At least Lily’s happy, curled on the sofa with her bedtime milk, completely oblivious to her mother’s DIY disaster zone upstairs.
I managed to put together Lily’s bed last week, so surely I should be able to manage this one? Mind you, Lily’s bed was smaller and simpler, with fewer pieces. Oh, and it was a whole lot lighter.
