“Aye. Keeps everyone on their toes.”
Mum hangs up a mug then reaches for the next one to dry. “I was on the phone to your sister this morning.”
“Oh? All good in London?”
“Seems to be. She’s busy as ever. We were chatting about your friend Lachlan, actually. About how he got together with that American lass.” She pauses. “Got us to talking about you, son.”
I suppress a sigh and attack a stubborn bit of dried gravy on the pot I’m cleaning. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this is heading.
“We think it’d be good for you to find yourself a girl like Lachlan did. We worry you might be... lonely.”
I scoff. “Mum, I’ve got Isla at the weekends, a busy job, the band, surfing. Not exactly the schedule of a man pining for company.” I flash her a grin. “I’m a happy bachelor. Absolutelynotlonely.”
Does the house get a bit quiet mid-week? Sure, but that doesn’t mean I’mlonely.
Mum studies me for a moment but lets it drop. Instead she asks after Sophie.
“Aye, she’s fine. The usual.” I do have news, of course—that Mei’s moving in—but I’ve got to keep quiet about that until Sophie tells Isla. She’ll probably do that tonight when I drop Isla off.
“And the refurb of the old salon? How’s that coming along?”
“Also fine.”
“Good. I’ve already booked myself in for a trim on opening day. The whole town’s talking about the place.” Mum gives me a not-so-subtle sideways glance. “As well as its bonny new owner.”
“Hmm.” I set the clean pot aside and reach for the roasting tin, keeping my expression carefully blank.
“And it’s funny, isn’t it,” she goes on, “that she’s both your neighbourandyou’re doing up her salon. Must be seeing quite a bit of each other?”
My mum is about as subtle as a fire alarm in a library.
“Pauline, Ainsley’s mum, has started coming to knitting club,” she continues.
“Aye?”
“And, well... you know how we like to blether at knitting club.” Mum lowers her voice. “It seems Ainsley’s ex left her utterly heartbroken, the poor soul. Pauline wouldn’t say more than that, but isn’t that just awful?”
I frown down at a bit of caramelised carrot, scrubbing harder than necessary. “You know, maybe Ainsley doesn’t want her mum sharing that with the knitting club. She strikes me as a pretty private person.”
Mum pauses, then nods slowly. “Fair enough. Point taken.”
Mum’s as fond of a blether as anyone in this town, but hopefully she—and the rest of the natter-knitters, as Da calls them—won’t be passing the story round. Though Ardmara’s hardly famous for its tight lips.
Still. Food for thought. If Ainsley’s ex did a number on her, I bet the last thing she wants is me winking at her like some daft eejit every five minutes. Probably explains the whole ice-queen routine. Maybe I need to dial it back a bit.
“Son, you’ll take the shine clean off that thing if you keep at it.”
I blink. The metal scourer’s squeaking over a surface that’s already spotless.
“Daddy, come see! I beat Grandpa!” Isla’s triumphant shout rings from the living room.
Winking at Mum, I put the roasting tin on the rack then quickly dry my hands and head through. Da’s sitting back in his armchair with a look of theatrical defeat, while Isla beams at the chessboard like she’s just conquered a small nation.
“Good lass!” I crouch down to inspect the board. “Brutal. Absolutely brutal. He never stood a chance.” I ruffle her hair. “Well done, princess. But now that game’s done, I reckon it’s time to get you back to Bannock, eh? You’ve got school tomorrow. Let’s get your things together and say goodbye to Gran and Grandpa.”
The drive to Bannock is quiet. Isla’s half-asleep by the time we pull up outside Sophie’s cottage, the chess victory and a full Sunday roast having done their work.
I grab her overnight bag and walk her to the door, her small hand warm in mine. Before I can knock, it swings open. Sophie stands there, Mei just behind her.
