“I don’t,” she says quickly. “I just want to be neighbours. That’s all.”
Well, fuck. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
“All right,” I say. My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Steady, when nothing inside me feels steady at all. “If that’s your final decision, I’ll respect it.” I manage a small smile.
She nods once, then turns and heads back inside for Lily.
Aye, I’ll respect it.
But fuck, it hurts.
The house is quiet.
Too quiet, really, given Isla’s sitting across from me at the kitchen table. She’s been subdued since we got back, and she’s pushing her pasta around her plate more than eating it.
I’ve tried the usual tricks—silly voices, daft jokes, that face she normally can’t resist laughing at. Nothing’s landing tonight.
“Da?”
I look up from my own barely touched plate. “Aye?”
“Are you going to get me into trouble?”
I blink. “What?”
“For being mean to Lily.” She’s staring at her fork, not meeting my eyes. “I wasn’t very nice. You should be cross with me.”
The words catch me off-guard. My wee girl, asking to be told off. Wanting it, even.
“Hey.” I reach across and cover her hand with mine. “No. It’s okay, Isla. I don’t want you getting upset about that. I get it. I understand why you reacted the way you did.”
She finally looks up, eyes red-rimmed. “But Ishoutedat her. Right in her face.”
“Aye. And that wasn’t great. But you know what? Sometimes even grown-ups feel jealous and do daft things.” I pause, trying to find the right words. “When I found out Mei was moving in with you and your mum, I felt a wee bit jealous.”
“You did?”
“Aye. Because I love spending time with you, and I didn’t like the idea of someone else getting to spend more time with you than I do.” I squeeze her hand. “But here’s the thing, the people you love can have other people in their lives too. Just because I looked after Lily for a night doesn’t mean I love you any less. And just because Mei lives with you now doesn’t mean you love me any less. Right?”
“Of course it doesn’t.” She says it fiercely, as if the very idea offends her. Then she’s out of her chair and throwing her arms around me, squeezing tight. “I love you, Da.”
“Love you too, princess. More than anything.” I hug her back, breathing her in. “Right, are you going to eat any more of your food, or are you not hungry?”
“Not hungry.”
“Aye, me neither. You go off and play and I’ll tidy up here, all right?”
She scampers off and I put some music on, clear the plates, and fill the basin.
I’m humming away to myself and drying off the last dish when Isla reappears.
“Da, I wrote a letter to Lily. To say sorry for shouting. And I drew her a picture.”
“Oh?” I’m proud, of course, that my seven-year-old took it upon herself to apologise. She’s mature beyond her years, my Isla. But I don’t think Ainsley wants to see any more of us today.
“Well done. Maybe we can give it to Lily another time?”
“I already put it through their door.”
