Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
DOUGLAS
The sea is the same as it always is. It doesn’t care that my life has felt very different recently.
The Mary Beth rocks on the water while Ben and I work our way through the creels.
The next one contains three decent prawns, a velvet crab too small to keep, and a tangle of bladderwrack that I shake free before tossing the crab back.
The morning is bright and cold. There’s a low swell running, nothing dramatic, just the Atlantic breathing in and out the way it does.
Spray catches my face every few minutes. My oilskins are damp, and my hands are red. Yet I’m whistling.
I don’t even notice I’m doing so until Ben glances over from the bait box. “You’re awfully cheery today,” he comments.
I stop whistling and consider denying it, then think, what’s the point?
“Aye,” I say. “I am.”
Ben shrugs and goes back to rebaiting a creel. That’s it, the whole conversation. He’s nineteen. Emotional enquiry isn’t his strong suit, and I wouldn’t want it to be.
The twins barrel past me the moment I open the front door.
“Hi, Dad,” Logan says, kicking off his shoes before making a beeline for the living room.
Rosie gives me a look that says she’s glad to be home, then follows after Logan. A moment later the telly comes on.
I turn to the doorstep, where Leah stands. For once, she looks tired rather than polished, like the afternoon has taken it out of her.
“They were a handful today,” she says, as if answering a question I never asked.
“Aye,” I say. “They can be.”
She glances past me into the hall but doesn’t try to come in. That’s new.
“Douglas.” She meets my eyes then looks away again. “I’m . . . not cut out for this. I don’t think I ever was.”
Well, there’s something I never thought I’d hear Leah admit.
“I know,” I say quietly.
She nods and looks down at her hands. I notice the wedding ring is gone.
“I’m going to go. Ardmara isn’t for me. The divorce—you should go ahead with it. Get your solicitor to send the papers when they’re ready. I won’t fight it.”
It takes a moment for the words to land. I can hardly believe what she’s saying. I know, of course, that this change of heart is almost certainly because of what Ellie said to her yesterday about a settlement. I could point that out, but what would be the point?
So I simply say, “Thank you, Leah. I’ll get everything sent through. You can message me an address.” Then I add, “Would you like to come in and say a proper goodbye to the twins? Since you’re leaving.”
Leah’s gaze flicks to the living room. Through the half-open door, the sound of Logan and Rosie bickering over the remote drifts into the hall. Something crosses Leah’s face, but it’s gone too quickly to name. She shakes her head.
So she’s going to vanish on them again, the way she always does.
I’ve half a mind to tell her that the least she owes them is a proper goodbye, but I stop myself.
I can’t face an argument with her, and I’m not about to say anything that might jeopardise the divorce.
If she doesn’t want to say goodbye, that’s on her.
“That’s fine,” I say. “You’ll always be welcome to visit the twins, and I hope you do. But the days of you showing up unannounced are over. Next time, you contact me first.”
She nods and pulls her jacket tighter around herself.
I look at her, at this woman I married because she was carrying my children and I thought that was what you did. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Leah.”
She takes a step back. “Goodbye, Douglas.” She turns and walks away. She doesn’t look back.
Ellie sits beside me on the sofa, her fiddle case leaning against the armchair, a mug of tea in her hands. She’s come straight from her mum’s, and she’s due at the Ferryman’s Rest in an hour for her weekly gig. But she’s here first. With me.
I’ve filled her in on my conversation with Leah. Ellie doesn’t celebrate or say good riddance. Her relief is quiet.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Lighter,” I say. “And knackered. Both at once.”
She smiles.
I take a sip of tea then set it down. “There are still things to figure out, of course, like the settlement. The solicitor’s been clear she will be entitled to something, despite hardly having lived here for years.
That’s fine—I just want it done—but it’s not like I’ve got a whole lot of money sitting about in savings, so I may need to remortgage this place to pay her what she’s owed.
” I drum my fingers on my thigh, shrug, then wink at her.
“No regrets. Not when I’ve got you. Small price to pay for love, eh? ”
“Love?” Ellie says, colour rising in her cheeks.
“Oh. Aye, well, obviously I love you. I thought that was a given.”
Her eyes go bright. “I love you too, Douglas.” She bites her lip then says quickly, “I’m not suggesting we rush into anything, but if one day we decided we wanted to live under the same roof . . . well, I’ve got a house. A house I could sell. That would write off a good chunk of your mortgage.”
“What? Ellie, no.” I shake my head. “My money situation isn’t yours to sort. But the idea of living together? That doesn’t sound half bad. In fact, it sounds pretty bloody good.”
I bump my shoulder against hers. She bumps mine back. We sit there, shoulders touching, the house quiet around us . . . until from upstairs comes the thud of Logan jumping off something he shouldn’t be jumping off, followed by Rosie telling him to stop.
Ellie huffs a soft laugh, then leans close and kisses me.
The Ferryman’s Rest is heaving.
It’s a Thursday night, the Celtic Kicks are playing, and the place is packed—the usual crowd of locals plus a few tourists who’ve wandered in for a pint and got more than they bargained for. Among the front tables there’s also an unusually young contingent tonight.
Tomorrow is an in-service day at school, so as a special treat, we’re letting the kids stay up late.
Logan and Rosie are sitting with Finn and Isla, fizzy drinks and crisp packets on the table in front of them.
Lily is with the grown-ups—for now, at least—perched on Ainsley’s knee, wearing a sparkly headband she apparently refused to leave the house without.
Her eyes are fixed on the stage, where Struan is tuning his guitar.
Also at the grown-ups’ table are Lachlan and Blair. My parents are in the pub too, though they’re sitting over by the window, Mum with a glass of white wine, Da with a pint of lager. Da catches my eye and raises his glass. I raise mine back.
I had a chance to fill them in earlier. Not just about Leah leaving, but about Ellie. I told them I was seeing her, and that it was serious. “I knew it!” Mum proclaimed gleefully. Da just clapped me on the back and said, “Well done, son. She’s a nice lass.”
Struan speaks into the microphone, drawing my gaze to the stage.
Ellie’s up there with her fiddle tucked under her chin, her hair loose around her shoulders.
As soon as Struan finishes introducing the band, they launch into their first tune, Ellie’s bow moving fast and clean, drawing music from the strings with an ease that makes it look effortless, though I know it isn’t.
The last time I was here, I was talked into coming by Lachlan and Struan.
I sat at a table nursing a pint, hyperaware of Ellie on stage while pretending I wasn’t looking.
And when Struan made a joke about us looking cosy, I panicked, said I was “hardly available”, and watched something dim behind Ellie’s eyes before she covered it with a smile.
I take a sip of my lager and let the memory go. Because tonight, watching her play, I don’t feel guilty or guarded. I just feel proud. She’s doing something she loves, and she’s doing it brilliantly.
The music lifts the room. Feet stamp and hands clap.
An older couple near the bar start dancing in the narrow space between tables.
Rab’s accordion weaves underneath the melody, steady and warm, while Struan’s guitar drives the rhythm forwards.
But it’s Ellie who holds it all together, the fiddle the bright thread running through everything, pulling the room along with it.
Logan bounces in his seat, both hands slapping the table roughly in time with the music. Rosie holds her fork like a tiny fiddle and draws her knife across it like a bow. She catches me watching and grins but doesn’t stop.
Finn claps along. He’s half a beat behind but committed. Isla leans over and corrects his timing. Finn adjusts, and Isla nods, satisfied.
Forty minutes later, the band reaches the end of the first part of their set. Struan leans into the mic, slightly out of breath, and surveys the room.
“Well, well,” he says. “Quite the crowd tonight. I see we’ve got some new faces in.
” He looks down at the front tables and raises an eyebrow.
“Some very small new faces. It’s well past somebody’s bedtime, isn’t it?
” He pauses, then looks pointedly at Lachlan.
“Lachlan, mate, you should really be getting home. You look exhausted.”
The pub laughs. Lachlan shakes his head, one corner of his mouth lifting.
Struan’s eyes find mine. There’s no joke this time. No toast, no teasing. Just a look—brief, warm, steady—and a small nod that says everything it needs to. Good for you, mate.
I nod back.
Struan announces the band will be taking a short break. Rab heads over to chat with someone at the bar. Struan and Ellie come to our table, Struan dropping into the seat next to Ainsley and immediately stealing a sip of her drink, which earns him a playful elbow in the ribs.
The twins are on Ellie before she can sit down.
“Ellie! Can I have a shot of your fiddle?” Logan asks.
“No, me first!” Rosie says. “I’ve been practising.” She holds up the fork and knife.
“You have not been practising! Cutlery doesn’t count.”
“It does!”
“Does not!”
“Maybe later,” Ellie says, laughing. She slides into the chair beside me. She’s flushed from playing, and a strand of hair is stuck to her cheek. She pushes it away and reaches for the glass of water Blair has already poured for her.
I take her free hand in mine. Not under the table but on it, in full view of anyone who cares to look.
People glance over. Of course they do. This is Ardmara. But the glances are warm and curious, not scandalised.
Ellie looks down at our joined hands, then up at me. She squeezes. I squeeze back.
The noise of the pub settles around us—laughter, clinking glasses, children’s voices, Lily asking when “Stwuan” is going to sing again, and could she join in?
I sit in the middle of it, Ellie’s hand in mine, my children nearby, my parents across the room, my friends around me.
For once, I’m not just surviving. I’m living. I’m happy.