Instead I flick the kettle on and tug a tissue from the packet she dropped earlier. I press it into her hand.
“Here.”
She takes it without looking at me. Dabs at her eyes. “Sorry. I never do this.”
“Do what? Have feelings?”
A wet laugh escapes her. “I’m used to clients unloading on me. Not—” She gestures vaguely. “This.”
“Maybe it needed out.”
The kettle rumbles to a boil. I make her a tea and set the mug in front of her. She wraps her hands around it like it’s a lifeline.
For a while neither of us speaks. Just the quiet hum of the fridge and the distant cry of gulls outside.
Then, softer now: “The nursery pulled me aside this morning.”
“Oh?”
“They suggested I bring Lily in a bit later. When it’s calmer. Fewer parents around.” She stares into her tea. “Also, apparently she’s been... unsettled. Acting out a bit with the other kids.”
“She’s four,” I say. “Sounds fairly standard.”
“You’re probably right. But then the manager told me something Lily said to another wee girl.” Ainsley’s throat works. “She said, ‘I don’t see Daddy. Mummy doesn’t like him.’”
Ainsley lets out a helpless little sound. “So I had to stand there and explain that I’m not keeping Lily from her father. It’s the other way around. Danny—her da—he’s just... chosen not to be part of her life.”
My jaw tightens. Chosen? Fuckingchosennot to see his own kid?
I think of Isla. Of Sunday nights and how quiet the van feels on the drive back from Sophie’s. Too quiet.
And this guy just . . . walked away?
“He’s a fool,” I say. “Choosing not to be in his kid’s life? I can’t understand that.”
Ainsley looks at me for a long moment, then she drops her gaze, twisting the tissue in her hands. “God, listen to me. Dumping all this on you when you’ve got work to finish.”
“Ainsley.” I wait until she meets my eyes again. “You’re doing brilliantly.”
She huffs quietly.
“You’ve moved to a new town. You’re opening a business. You’re raising a wee girl on your own.” I shrug. “That’s not nothing. That’s bloody impressive.”
Her lips press together. Like she wants to argue but can’t quite find the words.
“Lily will settle,” I add. “She’s just rattled by the change, that’s all.”
She nods slowly. Takes a sip of tea. Some of the tension eases from her shoulders, though she still looks exhausted.
“Now, tell me about this delivery. What’s the situation?”
She sighs. “It’s sitting in a depot in Elgin. Ready to go but it won’t get here till tomorrow afternoon, which is too late. Elgin is two hours away—I don’t have time to go there. And Mum and Dad are off on some dolphin-spotting tour, so I can’t exactly call them.”
“I’ll go.”
Ainsley blinks. “What?”
“I’ll drive to Elgin, pick the order up, bring it back. I can finish up here tonight.”
