Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ELLIE
After the coastal walk, I head home with a lightness in my step. Even the daffodils lining my garden path seem brighter than usual, their yellow heads nodding in the breeze.
I grab a quick bite to eat then head out again to check in on Mum, as I do every Saturday after lunch.
“Only me!” I call as I let myself in. I find her in her armchair, but the way she straightens tells me she’s been dozing. I bend to kiss her cheek. “How are you today, Mum?”
“Och, fine, fine.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“As you should. A little nap can do the world of good.” I sit down, smiling at her.
“You’re very cheery today, Ellie,” she observes.
“Aye, well, it’s Saturday and the sun is out.”
“It is. It’s rather nice when it shines through my window. I think that’s why I dozed off. Have you been out in the garden, or on a walk?”
“A walk,” I say. “Along the coast. With Douglas Fraser and his twins, actually. They go most Saturdays, and the kids invited me along.”
I don’t miss the look that passes across her face. Subtle it is not.
“First the prawns, and now this. Ellie, this is how rumours start. He’s a married man.”
“Mum!” I scoff. “It was a walk with his seven-year-old twins. We looked at crabs and starfish. It’s the twenty-first century. It’s perfectly acceptable for a man and a woman to go for a walk together without it being romantic.”
“Hmm.” Her lips purse. “Well. Just be mindful of what people might think, that’s all.”
I know there’s no point arguing with her, so I say, “Right, I’ll change the bed sheets then stick the kettle on.”
Mum presses down on the armrests, her arms already trembling. “I can help with the sheets—”
“It’s fine, Mum. It’ll only take a minute. You relax. Enjoy the sun. ”
She settles back again. “Thanks, love.”
She hasn’t been able to change the bed for a long time now, but she always offers and I always give the same answer.
Ten minutes later, there are fresh sheets on the bed, the washing machine is on, and I’ve made two perfect cups of tea for Mum and me. I’m just about to carry them through to the living room when my phone buzzes with a message.
Blair
Heard you went rock pooling with Douglas this morning
Ellie
How did you hear about that?!
Blair
We’ve just arrived at the Pit. It was the first thing Rosie said to me
Ellie
Ah, that makes sense
Blair
I’m now desperate for a catch-up. Ainsley’s here too. Fancy joining us for coffee and a gossip?
Ellie
At the Pit? Where Douglas is?
Blair
Yeah, but I can organise it so there’s a girl table and a guy table. And trust me, with the noise in this place, the guys won’t hear a word we say. Me, though? I want to hear EVERYTHING
It’s obviously a terrible idea, but I’m considering it. Would it be really odd to turn up there, given I said to Douglas and the twins I wouldn’t go? Then again, now that it’s Blair who’s invited me . . .
Nothing odd about catching up with friends, right? The fact that Douglas will be there too is entirely incidental.
Ellie
Will you still be there in half an hour?
Blair
Yep
Ellie
All right, fine. I’ll pop in. Just having a tea with my mum first
Blair
Amazing! Bring your camera. Rosie said you took photos. I want to see them!
I’ve glimpsed the leisure centre’s soft-play room plenty of times over the years, usually while walking past on the way to the pool, but I’ve never actually stepped inside.
The noise hits me first—a wall of shrieks, laughter, and running feet.
Then comes the faintly damp heat, like stepping into a greenhouse that’s been colonised by small feral humans.
And underneath it all lingers a smell I’d rather not examine too closely, though warm socks are certainly one of its more prominent notes.
This is not my natural habitat. It’s about as far from the library as you can get.
I linger in the doorway for a moment, watching as children swarm the enormous climbing frame that dominates the room, a multicoloured fortress of tubes, rope bridges, and slides.
Then I scan the room, looking for Blair and Ainsley and, if I’m honest, a certain fisherman.
I spot a cluster of familiar faces in the far corner, spread across two tables: Douglas, Lachlan, and Struan at one, Blair and Ainsley at the other.
“ELLIE!”
Before I can take a single step towards the tables, two red-haired missiles launch themselves from the ball pit and hurtle straight at me.
“Hi again, you two.”
They bounce around me in excitement.
“You came after all!” Rosie exclaims.
“We didn’t think you would,” Logan adds.
“Well, here I am.”
“Look, Da! It’s Ellie!” Rosie, to my surprise, grabs my hand and all but drags me across the room, Logan following close behind. By the time we reach the tables, the whole gang is looking our way.
“Ellie,” Douglas says, a little taken aback. “You came.”
My cheeks warm slightly—ridiculous, really. It’s not as though I’m doing anything wrong by being here.
“Blair invited me,” I explain.
“That I did.” Blair pats the plastic chair beside her. “Grab a seat.”
“Rosie, Logan!” Isla, Struan’s eight-year-old daughter, hurries over as I sit down. Lily, Ainsley’s adorable five-year-old, trots behind her, pigtails bouncing. “You’re supposed to be hiding,” Isla says. “I had to tell Finn to start counting again, but we don’t have long.”
And with that, all four kids scatter, Lily’s shorter legs pumping to keep up with the older three.
Struan leans over from the neighbouring table. “Ellie, you must have been really bored if this is how you’re choosing to spend your afternoon.”
“Oh, behave.” Ainsley swats the air in his direction. “She’s here to have a proper gab with us girlies. Away back to your table and talk about football or cars or whatever it is you men talk about.”
Struan grins and gives her a wink before turning back to Lachlan and Douglas.
“Coffee?” Blair asks me.
“Maybe in a bit.”
“Good. That means we can get right into it.”
“Right into . . . ?”
“This morning, obviously. Ainsley and I want the full report.”
I wince and sneak a sideways glance at the men’s table, but Douglas, Lachlan, and Struan are already deep in conversation about something. Besides, with all the kids screaming in the background, there’s not much chance of anyone hearing what we say.
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“What part of full report don’t you understand?” Blair leans forwards. “Tell us everything. I need details, and so does Ainsley.”
Ainsley nods and takes a sip of coffee, watching me expectantly. Like Blair, she knows about my thing for Douglas. We’re quite different, Ainsley and I, but over the last half year or so Blair has somehow pulled us into a proper wee friendship trio.
For the next few minutes, I give them the broad strokes of the morning: the walk to the cove, the twins scrambling across the rocks and making Douglas and I laugh with their antics, the mini picnic.
I tell them how easy it all felt, how I took far too many photographs, and how, by the end of it, I didn’t want the morning to finish.
When I’m done, Blair raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“And what?”
“Were there any”—she makes air quotes—“moments with Douglas?”
“Moments?”
“Come on,” Ainsley says. “You know what she means. Lingering looks, brushes of fingers, accidental touches.”
“Well . . . not exactly. But—” Should I tell them this? Ach, what the hell. “He did catch me when I slipped on a rock. There was a hand on my waist. Briefly.”
“Oh, that’s actually kinda sweet.” Blair gives a dreamy little sigh. Then, “Right! I want to see photos.”
I get out my camera, then swap seats with Ainsley so she and Blair can scroll through my pics of the morning.
“Ellie, these are gorgeous,” Blair says.
“They really are,” Ainsley agrees. “You’ve got such a good eye.”
I can’t help but smile, pleased with their compliments. It seems, in photography, I’ve found a hobby I’m actually pretty good at. Better than I was at knitting, anyway.
Lily appears at Ainsley’s elbow, pink-cheeked and out of breath. “Mummy, come and play with me.”
“Lily, you’ve got four pals in there,” Ainsley says. “You don’t need me in the frame too.”
“Please.” Lily widens her eyes in blatant emotional manipulation.
Ainsley sighs. “Oh, fine.” She glances at Blair and me as she pushes back her chair. “Back in a minute.”
She disappears into the frame with Lily skipping at her side. Blair hands me back the camera, and I’m just tucking it back into its bag when the twins run over.
“Ellie, we’re going to give you a tour of soft play,” Logan announces, like this is a great treat.
“Oh, well, I don’t know—”
“Come on,” Rosie says, grabbing hold of my sleeve and tugging me to my feet.
I give Blair a pleading look, but she only grins and makes a little shooing motion with her hand.
“Shoes off!” Logan instructs.
“Right, okay.” I kick them off then let myself be led into the frame, where, within seconds, I end up wedged between two foam rollers—a rather undignified reminder that I am not built on the same scale as the soft play’s intended users.
The twins, naturally, find my predicament absolutely hilarious, but they each grab an arm and haul me through like this is the most important mission of their young lives.
“I think I’m maybe a bit big for this place,” I say once I’m on the other side, but the twins won’t hear of it. They urge me onwards—through a tunnel, over a wobbly bridge, down a twisty slide.
And the funny thing is, after a while, I stop worrying about whether I look ridiculous. Somewhere between the netted walkway and the ball pit, I actually start having fun.