‘Honestly, it’s okay—’
‘What was I thinking, going to the Portuguese bakery!’ She exhales at her own stupidity.
‘Suki.’ I touch her arm, glad the others are busily setting out our lunch – a seemingly endless array of deli treats – on the tartan rug. ‘You brought all this food. It’s really thoughtful, and don’t worry, I can eat a pastéis de nata without crying …’
She hugs me again. ‘It’ll all be okay. I’m sure of it.’
‘Well, I hope so.’ I muster a bright smile. ‘It’s good to see you all,’ I add. And it’s true; I’m grateful for her warmth and caring, and relieved to be away from Kilmory Cottage for the day.
We sit in the sunshine, tucking into the picnic and insisting, eventually, that Lyla relocate to a bench. ‘Mum, you fuss so much,’ she chides her as she gathers herself up from the blanket. Each of my pregnancies turned mealmost spherical, my head and limbs stuck-on appendages to the colossal bump. I existed in vast dungarees, bought for me by Frank from an army surplus store in Glasgow. There’s nothing army surplus about Lyla now, in her black leggings and a floaty turquoise cotton top, blonde hair scooped up artfully. She really isglowing.I always thought that was a myth. And as she and Eddie fall into quiet conversation, I wonder if she’d have preferred for them to spend time together alone.
I glance at Oliver. His hair is cropped short, his face and arms lightly tanned. He looks fit and well, at ease with himself in the bright afternoon sun. ‘Are you staying in Edinburgh at the moment?’ I ask.
‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘Just spending a bit of time at Suki’s.’
Suki casts him a fond smile. ‘He’s been a darling, Carly. Like you wouldn’t believe.’ She pauses, as if unsure whether to go on. ‘Me and Tom have split,’ she adds.
‘Oh, Iamsorry!’
‘Hmm. Yes. Turned out he wasn’t as great a builder-stroke-plumber as he made out.’ She emits a wry chuckle, as if it had all been about U-bends and differing opinions over mixer taps.
‘There’s been a bit of an issue with leaks, flooding the flat downstairs,’ Oliver explains.
‘Yep. Bit of a cowboy as it turned out.’ She glances around as a group of tourists stop to photograph the castle.
‘Sounds like a nightmare,’ I say.
‘You can’t imagine.’ Suki shudders and quickly gathers herself. ‘But anyway. We’re getting things sorted together, aren’t we, Ols?’
‘It’ll be okay, sis.’ I glance at him, wondering if he’s always assumed this capable older brother role. It’s clear that he cares about her, and as Eddie and Lyla wander off for a stroll together, I learn that he’s ‘project-managing the rescue operation’, as Suki puts it.
‘Oh, I’m just helping out.’ He smiles, shrugging off her praise.
‘But once we have tradesmen in, I’m decamping to Lyla’s for a bit,’ Suki adds.
‘Right,’ I say, remembering how she’d described following her daughter to Edinburgh. ‘She’d have enrolled on my uni course if she could!’ Lyla had told us, and I wonder how she really feels about her mother moving in.
We’re packing away the picnic remains as Suki checks the time. ‘Oh, God. It’s nearly two already. I said I’d pop over to see Dinah’s thing in a gallery in the New Town. She’s part of a group exhibition and all the artists are doing a talk …’ My body tenses, and as I catch Oliver’s eye I know he’s thinking the same thing.Please don’t ask me to come along.‘With everything going on at home, I’d forgotten to mention it.’ She looks apologetic. ‘Don’t suppose you two fancy coming? Everyone’s welcome …’
‘D’you know, I think I’d rather enjoy the sunshine,’ I say, surprised by my honesty.
Suki smiles, smoothing her hair as she gets up from the blanket. ‘Sounds like a sensible option.’
‘How about we get a coffee?’ Oliver suggests. ‘And maybe have a wander round the museum?’
‘That sounds great,’ I say, relieved. ‘Suki, you don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course not. But I’d better dash because I did promise.’ She hugs us goodbye. ‘She’ll probably have me handing out canapés,’ she adds with a small laugh. ‘So I’ll say bye now. See you next time?’
‘Definitely,’ I say, thinking,Next time will probably be when the baby’s born. When we are grandmothers.It hardly seems possible as I watch her, looking barely old enough to be Lyla’s mother as she hurries away.
Oliver rolls up the blanket, stashing it into his rucksack, and we find Eddie and Lyla perched on the edge of the fountain, deep in conversation. Plans are made to reconvene later, and Oliver and I stroll across the park. It’s one of those picture-perfect days with a bright, high sun, and a wisp of cloud in the clear blue sky.
‘Shall we grab some coffees and find a bench?’ Oliver suggests.
‘Good idea.’ I smile, and despite everything, I sense a lightness at being here, away from home. It’s Frank’s choice, I remind myself, to do what he’s doing. My emotions veer from devastation that he’s embarked on his bizarre truck life, with only a stray cat for company, to disappointment, and even anger, that he’s doing this to us. Of course I’ve had to tell the girls what’s going on, but I’ve played it down, saying their dad ‘just needs a bit of space. It’s only temporary,’ I’ve assured them. ‘Just a blip.’
‘But he’s staying in thetruck?’ Bella exclaimed.
