‘I’d love that,’ I enthuse, ‘if you’re sure.’ And so we set off in Oliver’s Land Rover, with the picnic Suki insisted on packing for us. ‘I’m not really a hot-tub person,’ he remarks as we leave the cabins behind.
‘Youdosurprise me.’ I smile, and he chuckles. There’s been no discussion of where we might go today. I have a feeling we’ll just see where the winding lanes lead us on this bright and sunny spring morning. I glance at Oliver as he drives – calmly and steadily, rather than barging around corners, as he did last night – suspecting that he is as relieved as I am to be heading out for the day.
Come home!Prish messaged earlier, in response to my message.You don’t have to stick it out. We can go out tonight if you like, if you need to spill it all out?I felt a little foolish replying that the situation had ‘improved’ and that I was planning to see how things panned out.
Now we’re climbing higher, cresting the hill where the landscape spreads out before us like the spectacular opening of a film. Way down below, a loch glimmers in the bright morning sunshine. ‘Oh, this is incredible,’ I exclaim.
Oliver smiles. ‘So you’re glad you stayed after all?’
‘Yes, I am,’ I say truthfully. We settle into a comfortable silence as the road ribbons back and forth down the hillside. And as the loch grows closer, I sense Oliver turning something over in his mind.
‘So, that photo Suki showed us last night,’ he ventures, giving me a quick look.
My heart jolts. ‘You mean the one of Lyla and Eddie?’
‘Yeah,’ Oliver says. ‘It can’t be easy for you, all ofthis …’ What doeshethink, I wonder, as Lyla’s uncle? I can’t imagine he’s overjoyed either.
‘No, it’s not,’ I say carefully. ‘But it’s not really about me, and what I think, is it?’
‘Well, it kind of is,’ he remarks, and I’m not sure how to respond.
‘I just … hope they’ll be okay,’ I say, taking care not to let anything slip out. Because it feels as important to keep up the pretence with Oliver as it does with Suki. ‘I mean, I hope Lyla’s well and healthy and that everything’s fine with the baby,’ I go on. ‘That’s all that matters really. And afterwards, when the baby’s born …’ I break off, suddenly overcome by emotion. ‘I can hardly get my head around that part,’ I admit. ‘That Eddie will be a dad. It just seems crazy and impossible, you know?’ I glance at Oliver, hoping he doesn’t think I’m rambling. But I’ve barely talked about the fact that, virtually every moment of every day, all I can think is that a baby is growing. My grandchild, who I know will change all of our lives forever. I haven’t even shared this with Prish or Jamie, as I haven’t been able to put it into words. And I still haven’t told Dad.
‘I know what you mean,’ Oliver says. ‘Theyareyoung, aren’t they? There’s no getting around that.’ He glances at me. ‘I guess it’s one of those situations where it’s affecting you hugely but you actually feel a bit powerless.’
‘Yes, it’s exactly that.’ I pause, surprised by his understanding. That’s it, I decide. This new life is happening – never mind that the situation is a mess – and I simply don’t know what to think or do. It’s left me flailing, with Frank and I falling apart.
‘D’you have children?’ I ask now. After my faux pas with Dinah last night, I’ve hesitated to broach the subject.
‘I do,’ Oliver replies. ‘Two boys, all grown up now.’
‘They’ve left home?’
‘Yeah, yeah, a few years ago. And you have three, is that right?’
‘That’s right,’ I reply. I tell him about Bella in London, and Ana loving her art student life as she carouses around Dundee.
‘You must miss them a lot,’ he ventures.
‘Oh, I do. They come home on visits of course. And their dad and I see them when we can. We’ve had a couple of trips to London to visit Bella. But I’m happy, you know. They grew up in a sleepy little seaside town and were desperate to get out there into the world. Not like Eddie. He hung on the longest, only moved out in January—’
I stop myself. Oh, Christ. When the pregnancy was announced, he and Lyla were meant to have been together for six months. My brain whirs, calculating how long the great love affair should have been going on for now. Eight months? Don’t panic, I tell myself as we pull up at the lochside. Oliver won’t be doing the maths. We climb out, and I’m relieved as he points out a ruined castle perched on a rocky outcrop. We head towards it with the picnic stashed in Oliver’s rucksack. Thankfully, he seems more interested in enjoying the day than delving into whatever might be going on with my son and his niece.
‘My kids were obsessed with castles,’ he says.
‘Mine too. The more ruined the better. That way, they knew there’d be no boring exhibits to look at inside them …’
‘Just crumbly old walls with plenty of climbing potential,’ he says, and I laugh.
‘Exactly.’ We reach the castle and perch on the softly worn wall overlooking the loch. ‘So, how was it for you when your kids moved out?’ I ask.
‘Um … it seemed okay at the time.’ A wry smile and a shrug. ‘But then their mum and I got divorced. Patrice decided her work was done—’
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ I say quickly.
‘No. It’s fine. Well, it wasn’t fine at the time. Far from it. But … you know. We’d had the boys pretty young, and it turned out that it was them who’d been holding us together.’Is that me and Frank too?I wonder.Is our work done too?‘We’re okay now,’ he adds. ‘We’re … cordial.’ Another wry smile.
‘It’s a big change when the kids go,’ I admit. ‘Not quite what I expected. I mean, Frank and I …’ I pause, wondering how to put it. ‘I suppose we’re still adjusting.’
