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“Hmm . . . how about a foot massage when we get to the cottage? Maybe then I’ll reconsider.”

“Deal.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

GRACE

It’s Boxing Day, and I’m in the living room of Elspeth’s house. Aidan isn’t here—he’s gone out and has been a bit vague as to what he’s up to. Elspeth and Iona, meanwhile, are in the loft, searching for old baby things, in case there’s anything that might be of use. I’d offered to go up with them, but they wouldn’t hear of me crawling about in the dust.

So . . . it’s just me, on the sofa, nursing a peppermint tea. I help myself to another Abernethy biscuit from a plate on the coffee table. They’re pretty good.

Elspeth invited me here for some “girl chat”, and it’s been fun, but right now, I feel like a spare part. I wish Emily had come along too, but the hotel has reopened today, and she’s expecting guests.

Putting down my drink, I get up and examine some ornaments Elspeth has dotted around the room. I like the wooden carvings of animals best—a Highland cow, squirrel, otter, and stag.

I go over to a shelf in the corner on which a number of photo albums are neatly organised. Taking down the first one, I open it and smile when I see Aidan as a newborn, swaddled in a blanket and sleeping soundly. He’s in the arms of a younger Elspeth, who gazes at him lovingly.

On the next page, Aidan is being doted on by a man who has brown hair but otherwise shares many of Aidan’s features—the same jawline, strong forehead, and playful smile. There can be no doubt this is Aidan’s dad.

I flick through, Aidan growing older with each turn of the page. Sporting golden curls and a gummy grin, he lies on a mat beside another, grumpier, baby, who must be Ally. Aidan sits in a seat, supporting his own head. He crawls through this very living room, although the decor has since changed. He stares in wonder at his first birthday cake; he wobbles on his feet; he pats a dog; he takes a bath with Ally. I remember this last pic from the thirtieth party. They’re both adorably cute in it.

Reaching the end, I put back the album and take out another. Aidan, as a three-year-old, gazes into a Moses basket at his baby sister, Iona. Over the page, he cuddles Iona on a sofa while, beside them, Ally hugs Lewis.

I skim through then reach for the next album. Aidan and Ally, in their uniforms, hold hands and beam at the camera, ready for their first day of primary school. Iona and Lewis, also holding hands, feed ducks at a pond.

Elspeth has lovingly captured every stage of her children’s lives. Because there’s so much to go through, I decide to check out just a few pages of each album before moving on. Aidan quickly grows into a tween and then a teenager, and soon it’s his last day of high school, and he’s again posing with Ally, their white shirts scrawled with messages from their classmates.

The next album is different. It hasn’t been created by Elspeth but by Aidan himself, and it showcases his travels around the world. A slightly younger Aidan, wearing only a pair of shorts, stands on a beach, perhaps in Australia. With sand in his hair and squinting against the sun, he grins at the camera. I can’t help but smile: he really is an incredibly good-looking man.

As I flick through his visual journal of his years away, my smile falters. On every other page, he’s posing next to a woman—a different one each time. What exactly is he recording here? The places he visited or his conquests?

I should close the album and put it back—I know I should—but for some reason, I can’t stop myself from going through more and more of it, seeing more and more women.

Did he sleep with all of them, or are some of them just people he met and chatted with on his travels? Does it make a difference? Even if he only slept with half of them, it’s still a lot.

I’m aware I don’t have any right to get upset. It’s not like I didn’t know about Aidan’s reputation or that he tried to keep it a secret. But seeing these women with my own eyes makes it real. It doesn’t matter how much I attempt to rationalise it in my head, I can’t stop my body from having a physical reaction to the pictures. My grip on the album tightens, my hands shake, my palms grow clammy.

Is it even possible for a man like Aidan to settle down? This last month, I’d come to think he and I could have a future together, but have I been deluding myself? Isn’t it inevitable he’ll get bored at some point and move on? Isn’t that what his dad did?

The only reason Aidan is giving me a shot is because of the baby. Is that a solid basis for a relationship?

No. Of course it isn’t.

I snap the album closed and put it away. What am I doing? Why am I trying to convince myself we can’t make this work? We’ve been sensible, and Aidan especially wanted to take things slowly at first. Why can’t I just see how it goes? Why do I have to assume the worst?

Then again, isn’t it important to have realistic expectations?

Footsteps on the stairs indicate Elspeth and Iona are on their way down. I return to my seat, lift my cup of tea, and plaster a smile onto my face.

“I didn’t realise Maw was such a hoarder.” Iona lugs a carrycot and folded pram chassis into the living room then tries to figure out how to fit them together. “There’s enough stuff up there for her to open her own nursery!”

“And Grace is free to pick what she wants and reject what she doesn’t.” Elspeth comes in with a couple of vacuum storage bags filled with baby clothes. “Anything you don’t take with you to London could be useful for when you visit. Babies may be small, but they need a lot of things. If the bairn has some supplies here, it’ll make it easier for you when you’re packing.”

She pops down the bags, which are both labelled 0 to 3 months. “There are plenty more in the loft for when the wee one is older. I’ve got a few more big items too, such as a walker, but she won’t be using that until she’s six months or so.”

“Oh, wow,” I say. “This is great. Thank you.”

In my head, though, I’m thinking the pram alone will cut into the limited floor space in my flat. I’ll need to put in a cot too, of course, and apparently she’ll need some room for a walker, and what else? A high chair? How will it all fit?