Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ELLIE
I come to, not properly awake, just hovering somewhere between dreaming and consciousness, warm and content beneath the duvet. For a moment I don’t know what’s pulled me from sleep, then I hear the quiet rustle of movement, the pad of bare feet.
Douglas.
We shared a bed last night. Not in some hotel room far from real life, but here, in my cottage. A ridiculous little thrill runs through me.
I crack one eye open. It’s still dark, but Douglas has propped his phone on my chest of drawers with the torch on. It throws a pale pool of light across the room—and also neatly spotlights Douglas, who’s completely naked.
Well, that’s a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.
It’s not like when I’ve seen him naked before, when everything is charged and hungry and like it’s about to catch fire.
This is different, quieter. He’s sleepy, his hair tousled, his shoulders hunched against the chill of the room.
His cock is soft. He’s just a man getting ready for work—a fisherman, up before sane people, about to go out onto cold water while the rest of the town sleeps.
Something about it tugs at me in the nicest way.
I watch as he steps into his boxer briefs and pulls them up. I let out a small sound, halfway between a sigh and a mumble. “What time is it?”
Douglas turns to me, and a smile creeps onto his lips. “Too early,” he murmurs. “But the prawns won’t catch themselves. Go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” I say around a yawn, then let my eyes drift shut.
A moment later, the mattress dips as he leans over me. He presses a kiss to my cheek, his mouth warm, his scruff tickling my skin.
I make a small contented sound before the darkness tugs me back under.
Later, at the library, I move through the familiar rhythm of a Tuesday. Scanning returns. Straightening the display of new books. Shelving a stack of picture books that have migrated from the children’s section to the bay window, as they always do.
I can’t stop thinking about earlier. Douglas kissing my cheek before heading off to work, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like sleeping in my bed was the most natural thing in the world.
There’s a stupid grin on my face that I can’t seem to shift. I’m probably radiating a level of cheerfulness that’s frankly suspicious for a Tuesday morning.
A number of regulars have come and gone, but the library is quiet at the moment.
I’m behind the desk replying to an email when the bell above the door jingles.
I look up, and just like that, my smile vanishes.
Leah has just walked in, glossy and polished, her make-up immaculate and her brown hair sleek and straight.
She doesn’t come straight to the desk. She doesn’t even glance my way at first. Instead she drifts along the shelves nearest the door, trailing a finger along the spines, taking her time. My stomach tightens, but I don’t make the first move. I wait.
Eventually her attention shifts to me and she comes over, stopping on the other side of the desk. She tilts her head and offers me a cold smile. “Ellie. No hard feelings about yesterday, I hope? I just want what’s best for me and my family.”
This is no peace offering. It’s a victory lap. She went to my mother’s house, did her worst, and now she’s here to admire the damage.
I hold her gaze. “What you did was cruel.”
“Cruel?” She laughs. “I was being honest. Your mother had a right to know what’s going on.”
Under the desk I curl my hands into fists then release them. “You manipulated her to get at me, but it hasn’t changed anything. I’m not going anywhere.”
Leah studies me. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Why don’t you just—” I begin, but stop when the bell above the door jingles again. Jennifer Beattie comes in for her weekly browse.
“Morning, Ellie,” she calls.
A glint of satisfaction enters Leah’s eyes, and her expression rearranges into something wounded and brave—chin up, eyes glistening. When she speaks again, her voice is pitched just loud enough to carry.
“All I’m saying, Ellie, is that Douglas and I have two young children. They’re confused. They don’t understand why their dad’s new friend is suddenly spending so much time with him. And I don’t—” Her voice catches. She blinks. “I don’t understand how you could do this to them. To my family.”
The words hang in the air. Jennifer has paused near the new-books display, a book half lifted from the shelf. She’s listening. Of course she’s listening. This is Ardmara. Everyone listens.
My face is hot. Every instinct I have screams at me to defuse the situation, to get Leah out of the library and deal with her somewhere private. It’s not my style to air my dirty laundry in public.
Instead, I say, “Leah, you’ve messed Douglas about for years, and worse than that, you’ve messed Rosie and Logan about too. You turn up unannounced, play at being a mother for a few days, then disappear again, leaving Douglas to pick up the pieces. Every single time.”
Leah’s eyes narrow. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what it’s been like for me!”
“And now that Douglas is finally moving on,” I continue in a steady voice, as though she hasn’t spoken, “you tell his children about me before he’s had the chance to do it himself.
You climb into his bed without his permission.
You go behind my back to manipulate my mother.
So don’t stand in my library and lecture me about my behaviour. ”
Colour rises in Leah’s cheeks, and the wounded-wife act evaporates. “You think you can replace me after one weekend away? You’re just the girl from the library. He’s my husband, the father of my children.”
I choose my next words carefully. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Leah.”
A tiny crease appears between her brows.
“I think you’re just someone who was never meant for this life. For Ardmara. For the routines, the predictability, the steadiness that Douglas and the twins need. And that’s not a crime. But instead of accepting it, you keep coming back and tearing open old wounds.”
Leah’s mouth curves into a dismissive smirk. I’m trying to be civil, I really am, but at the sight of that wee smirk, I finally lose my cool.
“You don’t want Douglas. You don’t want this town. So what are you even fighting for? Because right now, all you’re doing is making everyone miserable, including yourself. Why not just divorce Douglas, take whatever settlement you can get, and start fresh somewhere you actually want to be?”
The words are out before I can catch them, and I immediately regret them.
Why am I talking about settlements? The money side of things is between Douglas and Leah—nothing to do with me—yet I’ve just stuck my nose into it in front of Jennifer Beattie, who will no doubt remember every syllable of this conversation and be retelling it around town later.
But I can’t unsay it now.
Leah is quiet. She watches me, saying nothing, holding my gaze far longer than is comfortable. Finally she says, “You’re not what I expected.” Then she turns and walks out of the library.
Silence.
I remain behind my desk, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, my hands trembling. I press my palms flat to stop them.
Jennifer approaches the desk and sets down a book. She looks at me over her reading glasses, and I brace myself, but her expression isn’t scandalised. It’s warm, approving.
“Well done, lass,” she says. “You showed her. I’ve never thought much of that one, if I’m honest. I always felt Douglas Fraser deserved so much better.
” She pauses, then adds with a knowing twinkle in her eye, “Now, you, Ellie? Aye. I can see that you and Douglas Fraser would go together very well.”
My eyes sting. “Thank you,” I manage, my throat tightening around the words. After yesterday—after the way Mum looked at me, spoke to me—I needed to hear that. Needed that validation.
Jennifer pats my hand. “Now then, could I check this book out, please?”
After work I head to Mum’s, as I do every weekday evening, only today things feel different, because we argued yesterday.
I’m not nervous or apprehensive, though.
If anything, I feel oddly clear-headed. I’ve already said what I needed to say to Leah.
Now it’s time for me to say what I have to say to Mum.
I open her front door and call out, but there’s no response. When I enter the living room, she’s there, but she doesn’t glance up. She fills in a crossword clue then taps her pen against the folded newspaper, her mouth set in a thin line. Right, so that’s how it’s going to be.
I sit down, and still she doesn’t look at me, but the pen tap, tap, taps. If she thinks I’ve come here to beg for forgiveness, she’s got another thing coming. Still, I remind myself that it wasn’t Mum who caused all this. It was Leah.
“Mum,” I begin, “I love you, but I need you to hear some things. I was really quite upset yesterday that—”
“You were upset?” Mum raises her eyes and finally meets my gaze. “How do you think I felt hearing about the way you’ve been carrying on?” Her chest rises and falls. Two spots of colour appear high on her cheeks. “I’ve never been so shocked—so embarrassed—in all my life!”
I bite my lip, hard. The urge to snap back is fierce, but I swallow it.
“I was upset,” I continue, keeping my voice level, “that you would listen to a stranger over your own daughter. You know what I’m like, Mum, but you don’t know Leah, and yet you sided with her.”
“Because she’s Douglas’s wife!”
It seems she’s not going to make this easy.
“You don’t leave the house much, so you probably don’t know how Leah is viewed around town. Jennifer Beattie came into the library today and spoke to me about Leah. You know Jennifer.”
Mum gives a brief nod. “We were at school together many moons ago.”
“There you go. Well, do you know what Jennifer said? She said that she’s never thought much of Leah, and she’s always felt Douglas deserved better. She thought Douglas and I make a good couple.”
Mum hesitates. “Jennifer said that?”
It stings that it takes someone else’s opinion to make Mum stop and think. But it’s a crack in the wall, and I’ll take it.
“She did. I tried to talk to you about this yesterday, Mum, but you wouldn’t listen. Will you hear me out now?”
She fusses with the newspaper for a few moments, avoiding my eyes, then inclines her head.
So I tell her. How Leah left her children when they were toddlers.
How she turns up unannounced, makes promises she doesn’t keep, then vanishes and leaves Douglas to manage the fallout alone.
How it was Leah who told the twins about me, before Douglas was ready.
How Leah’s marriage to Douglas has been over in every meaningful sense for years, and Douglas is in the process of making it official.
And then I tell her the thing that happened on Sunday night. How Leah got into Douglas’s bed without his permission, while the twins slept in the next room, and refused to leave.
Mum’s expression shifts at that, but she doesn’t respond straight away. Eventually she says, “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Ellie. And perhaps . . . perhaps yesterday I said some things in the heat of the moment that I shouldn’t have.”
It’s not an apology, not quite. But from my mother, it’s close.
“Do you really like this Douglas?” she asks, her tone tentative now.
“I do. He’s a good man. He’s kind and steady, and he works so hard for his children, but he never complains.
He reminds me a little of Dad that way.” We share a look, both of us remembering yesterday’s argument.
“And the twins?” I continue. “They’re a handful, mischievous as anything, but they’re lovely. ”
Mum looks down at the newspaper for a few moments before meeting my gaze again. “Well, I’ll have to mull all this over.”
I stand. “I’ll go make us a couple of teas, okay?”
I head through to the kitchen, giving her a couple of minutes to sit with what I’ve said, and also mentally preparing myself for the next chat.
Because I’m not done yet. Now that we’re speaking plainly, there’s something else I need to say—about boundaries, and about the fact I can’t go on being the only person in Mum’s life.
I’ll always be here for her, but if I want another weekend away, I’m having one.
Later, I knock on Douglas’s door. It swings open, and there he is, in a shirt and jeans, a tea towel slung over one shoulder. His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Ellie. Hi.” He steps back. “Come on in.”
I do.
“How are you doing?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say, and I mostly mean it. I’m proud of what I did today—standing my ground with Leah, saying the hard things to Mum. Exhausted, yes, but proud. “I’ve got a few things to fill you in on.”
But before I get a chance to elaborate, Logan comes charging down the stairs, jumping the last few steps. “Ellie!” he shouts.
Rosie follows, taking the final steps in a series of hops. She beams at me.
“Da said he’d play a board game with us once he finishes tidying up,” Logan says. “Do you want to play too?”
“Er, sure,” I say, smiling. “I’d like that.”
“Great!” He bounces on the spot. “Da, have you finished tidying up yet?”
“Just about. I thought I might get a wee moment to myself afterwards. And I’m sure Ellie might want a hot drink before she gets dragged into a game.”
“Nope,” Logan says. “Let’s play!” He grabs my hand and tugs me through to the living room.
Over his head, I catch Douglas’s gaze and mouth that we can chat later. He nods.
We play Pop-up Pirate, and as the game progresses, I ask the twins how their day was.
“We saw Mum again,” Logan says, pushing a plastic sword into a slot. He does a fist pump when the pirate doesn’t pop up.
Rosie adds, “I don’t think she likes it here very much.” She says it casually, just stating something she’s observed.
Douglas and I exchange a look, though neither of us speaks.
“But she was smiling,” Logan objects.
“Aye, but it was that smile people give when they’re not really happy,” Rosie counters.
Logan considers this, then nods. “You’re probably right.”
The moment passes, and the game continues. Then, on Douglas’s turn, the pirate shoots out of the barrel with a sharp pop.
Rosie claps her hands together. “Da’s out!”
Logan whoops. “Over the side with you, Da!” he says in his best pirate impression.
Then both twins dissolve into delighted cackling.