Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
AINSLEY
The old stone houses of Ardview Road rise up the hill like a staircase, each one perched a little higher than the last. My hands tighten on the wheel as I coax the car up the incline.
All right, new house, new life. A clean slate. No complications.
Naturally, that’s when a man’s face pops straight into my head—wide grin, messy man bun, big hands catching my waist as I tumbled straight into his lap. The kind of man who charms you senseless then leaves chaos in his wake. The kind of man I moved to Ardmara to get away from.
“There it is!” Lily exclaims, pulling me back to the present. She bounces in her seat, pointing. “Number twelve! Our new house!”
It sits near the top of the hill, its grey walls mellowed by years of Highland weather.
It’s nothing fancy—just solid, dependable Scottish architecture with white-framed windows and a small front garden that’s more weeds than anything else.
It’s semi-detached, joined on the right to number fourteen, with a low hedge separating the two gardens.
So that’s where Malcolm’s son lives, the one who’ll be doing up the salon.
His side is tidier, with neat window boxes and a freshly painted door.
I pull in behind Da’s ancient Volvo, which is already parked outside, and kill the engine.
Climbing out, I glance back down the hill.
The view steals my breath, just as it did the first time I saw it: the harbour spread below, fishing boats bobbing in their berths, a white ferry pulling away from the terminal.
The September sun breaks through the clouds, catching the water and making it sparkle.
Lily knocks impatiently on her window. I round the car and open her door, and she jumps down, having already unbuckled herself.
“There’s my wee angel!” Mum calls as she steps out of the Volvo.
Lily races towards her, and Mum drops to a crouch for a proper cuddle, covering Lily’s face with kisses while she giggles and squirms.
“Granny, that’s enough! I need to go see my room!”
Da gets out the car too and shoots me a grin. “Right, let’s get you two settled in your new place, eh?”
I fish the keys from my pocket and unlock the front door.
It opens on a narrow hall with stairs leading up.
The walls are magnolia—safe but bland—with beige carpet to match.
Not my style, but it’s clean and reasonably well maintained.
Once the salon is up and running, I’ll make this place properly ours.
Paint these walls something with personality, put down flooring that can cope with Lily’s inevitable spills. For now, though, it’ll do.
Lily darts through the doorway to my right. “Oh! This is the living room.” A few moments later: “And this is the kitchen! My room must be upstairs.” She whizzes past me and thunders up the stairs.
“Careful!” I call after her.
“I’ll start unloading the cars,” Da says, already heading back outside.
“I’ll help,” Mum adds. “It’s tomorrow the removal van is coming, yes?”
“Aye, sometime in the morning,” I confirm.
Most of my furniture is in storage, ready to be delivered tomorrow.
The essentials are packed in the cars, though, including Lily’s bed, which I dismantled this morning.
My own bed won’t be arriving until later in the week because I ordered a new one.
Couldn’t face taking the old one, not after sharing it with .
. . well, with him. Too many bad memories soaked into that mattress.
I head out to help and am halfway to my car when Lily’s voice bellows from upstairs: “This is going to be my room!”
Mum smiles and shakes her head. “You’d better check she’s found the right one. Just in case she’s claiming yours.”
“You’re right. I’ll be back in a minute.” I huff a small laugh and head up the stairs. I find Lily in the smaller bedroom to the left, spinning in circles, arms outstretched, hair flying.
“Yes,” I say. “This is your room.” It’s as bare as the rest, but her joy fills it anyway. “We’ll make it cosy,” I promise her. “We’ll get all your furniture in, maybe put up some fairy lights—”
“Mummy, lift me up!” She’s stopped spinning and is now bouncing in place, trying to see through the window. “I want to see outside!”
I scoop her up, her small body warm and solid in my arms.
“Wow! I can see the sea from my room. I love it!”
“It is a special view,” I agree. The extra height lets us peek over the neighbours’ rooftops, giving us a wide sweep of the harbour, more sprawling and vivid than it looked from down on the street.
“Come see my room,” I say, carrying her across the landing and to my window. “I’ve got the same view.”
“Oh!” Lily breathes, pressing her hands to the glass. “You can see the boats from here too. Can we watch them every day?”
“Of course, if you want.”
“I do.”
I let out a slow breath. She’s completely on board with this move.
There’s no “I want to go home”, no “I miss Daddy.” No questions about when she’ll see Danny again.
Just pure excitement about our new adventure.
Maybe she understands, in that way children sometimes do, that this is better.
That we both deserve better than what we had.
“Ainsley?” Mum’s voice floats up from downstairs. “That’s me taken in your kettle, and I packed some biscuits from our house. Why don’t we all have a cuppa before we start unloading properly?”
I smile to myself. That’s so Mum—suggesting a tea break before the work’s even begun. She just can’t bear the thought of anyone ever going unfed.
“Biscuits!” Lily wriggles out of my arms and bolts for the stairs.
“Lily, please walk down the stairs!” I call after her, but she’s already halfway down them, giggling away.
I follow at a more sensible pace, shaking my head. By the time I reach the kitchen, the kettle’s boiling and Mum’s laid out a few mugs and a packet of biscuits. Lily’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, happily demolishing a chocolate digestive and scattering crumbs everywhere.
Mum pours the tea and hands me a mug. We lean against the worktop to drink.
“Next time you come over, I’ll have actual chairs,” I say.
Mum smiles warmly. “There’s no rush. You’ll get the furniture sorted soon enough.” She looks around the bare kitchen. “Turning a house into a home takes time, but I think you’re going to be happy in Ardmara. I think we all are.”
It’s not just Lily and me who’ve moved to Ardmara—Mum and Da have too.
They got their keys a week ago, and Lily and I have been squashed into their spare room since then.
It’ll be nice to have our own space again, but I’m so grateful for everything they’ve done: coming with me to this new town, supporting me, after everything that happened.
After I couldn’t bear to show my face anymore in the village where I grew up, where everyone knew what Danny did to me.
“You know,” Mum says, “I’ve joined a knitting club in town. Meets Mondays at the community centre.”
“Er, Mum, can you even knit?”
She waves away my concern. “I’ll pick it up. It’s more for the blether anyway. It’ll be nice to make some friends around town. I’m sure you’ll be making some soon too.”
I’m less sure of that. It’s going to take me a while to trust anyone again outside of the people in this room—and Da, of course. Speaking of Da . . .
“Where’s Da got to?”
“Murdo!” Mum calls. “Where are you? Your tea is here and it’s going cold.”
“Just trying to fix this light, Pauline,” Da’s voice carries back. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Mum and I exchange a look of horror. Da and DIY do not go together.
“Da, leave it!” I hurry out of the kitchen and find him just outside the front door, peering up at the exterior light fitting with the determined expression of a man about to make things worse.
“I’m perfectly capable of changing a lightbulb, Ainsley,” he says, not looking away from his target.
I open my mouth to argue but Mum beats me to it. “Remember the kitchen tap?” She crosses her arms. “Or the bathroom fan? Or that time with the—”
“Those were different.” His ears go pink. “This is just a bulb.”
“Honestly, Da, I’ll sort it later. You’ve both already done so much for me. If you can just help unload the cars, that’s all I need today. For now, Mum’s right: have your tea while it’s still hot.”
He considers, then sighs. “Oh, all right. I suppose I could do with a cuppa.”
We head back to the kitchen, where Lily has clearly helped herself to another biscuit and is trying to look innocent. I don’t have the heart to tell her off.
Mum takes a sip of tea. “We might not be much use with DIY, but you do know we’ll help out however we can, don’t you, Ainsley?”
I swallow hard. “Mum, seriously, I don’t think you and Da could help any more than you already have.”
And it’s true. They’ve done everything—relocated their lives for my fresh start, invested their savings in the salon, lent me the deposit for this house. I owe them more than I’ll ever be able to give back.
The weight of it sits heavy on my shoulders.
Exciting though this all is, the whole venture terrifies me.
Because it has to work. For my parents, so I can pay them back one day.
For Lily, who deserves stability and happiness.
And for me, because I need to stand on my own two feet again after being knocked down and humiliated by the man who should’ve loved us both.
But I won’t let my parents see that fear. Not today, when everything’s supposed to be about new beginnings.
So I grab a chocolate bickie, dunk it in my tea, and take a bite.
It’s just gone six, and for the last wee while it’s just been me and Lily. My parents left a while ago, after both cars had been emptied.