Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Lance
The trip to Edinburgh has both lifted my spirits and depleted them. Seeing Katie again made me realize how strong my feelings are for her. They’ve never gone away, as much as I would like to kid myself they have. Part of me hoped when I saw her, there would be nothing. My wish wasn’t granted.
Katie and I have been keeping in touch daily by text message.
It’s starting to feel dangerously like old times, when we used to speak with the rise and fall of the sun.
I find myself constantly watching my phone for an update.
She’s in London now, promoting her new book and living her dream. I wish I could be part of her journey.
She sends me pictures of fancy restaurants and launch events, while she’s dressed in exquisite evening gowns and drinking champagne. She’s mingling with the high society and celebrities; I find it fascinating. Awe-inspiring if I’m honest.
Nothing has happened between us. There has been no discussion about our relationship moving forward, so maybe she just wants to be friends. But that wasn’t the feeling I got when we were together. Her body was responding to mine. She wanted me too.
I harden at her memory; I hope I get the chance to enjoy her again. We worked together. Our love, in my eyes, was perfection. No one will ever convince me otherwise.
“Dad,” Hannah shouts for what must be the dozenth time this morning, and it’s only 8:00 a.m.
“Keep it down, Hannah,” I growl. “Your brother’s still sleeping.”
“Sorry,” she says in a stage whisper, bringing her hand up to cover the side of her mouth. “Have you seen my trainers?” Each word is so exaggerated, I have to stop myself from laughing. A military soldier like me, she is not. She’d be gunned down before stepping out of the barracks.
“Try in the kitchen or wherever you dumped them last night.” She rolls her eyes at my sarcastic tone, then struts off in that direction, scuffing her socked feet along the laminate floor. I scowl. “Lift your feet, girl. I’ve told you before.”
This week is a monumental milestone in my recovery.
I start my new job.
I’m both excited and terrified.
After being medically discharged from the army, I have a lifetime of guaranteed income to support me, but I can’t not work for a living.
This job was in the pipeline before I found out about David, and I debated whether to start at all.
But after discussing my predicament with Beth at length, we agreed the best thing would be for me to get into a routine with the children, and that includes me working.
The local reindeer center has hired me three days per week as an animal caretaker and guide, to welcome visitors, discuss the animals’ needs, and take sightseers on trips up the moors in off-road buggies to see the resident herd.
Being around people again is going to be a relief.
I miss the interaction of my squadron and being part of a team, someone to offer you a cup of tea or banter with you over a biscuit.
Today is David’s first session with his nanny, and I’m nervous about leaving him with someone else.
He has been an unexpected joyous addition to my life.
I find myself watching him at all times of the day, mesmerized by his beauty and innocence.
My children have had a positive impact on my well-being and mental health.
They give me a purpose every day; something to get better for.
This morning has been a struggle though, getting myself and the two children ready to leave by 8:30 a.m., but somehow, we manage it.
Hannah is returning to school for the new term and entering her second year in high school.
She’s nervous. Frightened, even. The summer with her new brother, away from the politics of the schoolyard, has done wonders for her confidence.
She’s taken pride in her responsibilities around the house and with David, making his bottles without being asked or putting clothes in the washing machine on her own.
Although she helped me before, this time it feels like she’s contributing to the daily tasks in our house because she wants to, not because her dad is an amputee.
I pray that the little bitches who gave her a hard time last term will have moved on to someone else. For the time being, I’ve agreed to drive her every day. With all the changes, I really can’t cope with any more issues now. We all just need to get through our daily routine unscathed.
I walk through the gates of Aviemore Reindeer Center, and my heart lifts. It feels good to be going out to work and earning a living for my family. Being stable on my feet now, sometimes I forget I have a false leg at all.
Unless you really concentrate on my gait, it’s hard to spot my prosthetic. A man wearing the same red fleece jacket as me waves from the office. Ernie is the manager I met at my interview and addicted to all things reindeer.
“Lance,” Ernie welcomes me warmly. “How are you? Ready for your first day?”
“Morning, Ernie. Yes, I can’t wait to get stuck in. It feels good to be here. Though this is quite different to my previous office.” He chuckles, and I follow him toward the barn at the back of the center. Hay bales stacked are high and wide.
“Enough feed to see us through the winter,” he says. “Times are tight, and we need to buy a stockpile while we can. The herd can go out on the moors, but we need some animals here to bring in the punters.”
“Makes good sense,” I agree, and he nods. “So where do we begin?”
“Follow me.” He points left, then walks off with me trotting awkwardly behind.
***
After carting what feels like my thousandth barrow of reindeer shit to the massive pile of the steaming stuff sitting in the muck heap, I’m bloody exhausted.
Who knew looking after animals could be so tough?
My arms ache, my back is killing me, and my legs feel like lead, but fuck, I’ve enjoyed a day of hard labor.
I’m both exhilarated and alive from putting my muscles to practical use.
“Hey, Lance!” Ernie’s shout carries across the paddock.
He strolls toward me, patting each creature on the nose as he passes and whispering their names lovingly in their ears.
I noticed he talks to the deer all the time, full conversations with them as if they are replying. He’s a odd man, but seems nice enough.
“I’m really pleased with your work today. Why don’t you head off? I’ll see you tomorrow.” A genuine smile of encouragement on his face.
“You sure?” I question. “I still have plenty to do.”
“Of course, mate,” he says. I look at him, taken aback—no one has called me mate since I lost my friend. Dog always called me mate. Ernie looks at me quizzically. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You just reminded me of someone, that’s all.”
He throws me a funny look but doesn’t press me further.
“The shit will still be here tomorrow. So, you get off. It’s nice to have someone here to help who isn’t scared of proper hard work. Off you go,” he repeats and gestures to the exit with his hand.
“That’d be great. I can pick up David and be back for Hannah getting home from school. It’s her first day, and the last term didn’t go so well. I’d prefer to be there just in case her day went to shit.”
He nods in understanding. “My kids are all grown up now. You’ve got to enjoy them when they are small.” Then he walks away back toward the office, calling over his shoulder, “You get off home now. Back to those kids.”
I ping the nanny a message to let her know I will be collecting David early.
A reply immediately bounces back, confirming and assuring me the day has gone well.
When I decided to employ a minder instead of putting him in a nursery, I poured over review sites and parents’ forums, absorbing every bit of information and advice I could.
That’s another task I never had to undertake with my daughter.
I appreciate more and more each day how much Ainsley did for our family while I was away.
Being a single parent is stressful, and I’m only months into the job.
***
Dinner is on the table; Hannah seems happy and upbeat this evening.
The school day must have gone well. She was pleased when I was home for her getting off the bus.
Her account of her day is sparse, but she has a butterfly mind and often jumps from topic to topic as we chat.
My little girl is relaxed, and for that, I’m grateful.
“Did you hear that?” Hannah asks.
“What?”
“A knock at the door, I think.”
“I didn’t hear anything.” Then, a quiet rapping echoes along the hall. “I’ll get it,” I say.
I open the door to a woman. Her red hair is messed up and scraped back into a bun, which hangs to one side of her head. The clothes she’s wearing are huge and dwarf her small frame. She keeps her eyes focused on the floor, her body visibly shaking.
“Can I help you?” I ask softly.
Her gaze rises to meet mine, and I recognize her at once.
“Amber?”
She nods. A single sad sign that it’s her.
“Come in. Let’s get you warm.”
She walks silently into my hallway. I lock the front door behind her, removing the key so she can’t run with or without my little boy.