‘They look fine to me.’
Mhairi’s face was still clouded with worry.
‘What is it?’ Alice prompted.
After a heavy sigh, Mhairi told her how sometimes, when they’d been trying out new playgroups or on the rare occasions they got invited to playdates or parties, some of the mums had taken exception to Jolyon’s exuberance or the way he might have needed help to read certain situations. It sometimes resulted in other kids getting scared or annoyed, and there’d be tears, and sometimes angry parents, and Mhairi would score another playmate or group off her list of people and places willing to accommodate them.
‘I don’t want to always be telling him to settle down, not when he’s just playing, but it can get too much…’ Mhairi was saying when Livvie Cooper joined them, bringing them each a mug of Senga’s hot chocolate.
‘They look fine to me,’ Livvie said, echoing Alice’s own words, even though she’d only caught a little of what was being said. ‘I thought the point of the garden was to be recuperative? A place for playing.’
‘Dr Millen not here?’ Mhairi asked, possibly to divert the subject away from her anxieties about how people perceived her parenting.
‘Oh, uh, no. I suppose he’s given enough to the community over the years?’ Alice said with a shrug, not wanting to let anyone know she’d been well and truly lumbered with this project and, as the newbie, she couldn’t very well say no to the old doctor.
Livvie and Mhairi didn’t say anything but exchanged a quick glance.
‘So, do you two know each other?’ Alice asked them.
Mhairi went first. ‘We’ve seen each other round the repair shop. I come in for a brew some days.’
‘The kids seem to have taken a shine to each other,’ Livvie added.
‘Jolyon’s face lit up when he spotted her just now,’ said Alice.
They all watched the children, now being shown how to plant the bareroot rose bushes by Finlay and Murray. Or, at least, Finlay was down on his hands and knees digging while Murray hung back and passed him the twiggy plants from the barrow.
Shell had taken on the foreman role and was re-explaining how it all worked to Jolyon, as though Finlay’s explanation was all very well, but the little boy needed to hear it twice as loud.
‘Hope he doesn’t mind her bossiness,’ Livvie said.
‘Of course not,’ Mhairi said quickly, not seeming to register that she wasn’t the only mum worried about how others might respond to their kid’s playing style.
‘She knows her mind, that’s all,’ Alice said, before the mums decided they should probably roll their sleeves up and get stuck in.
‘I’ll catch up with you in a bit,’ Alice told them as they joined their children. She stayed by the side of the barn, waiting for her other participants. If they didn’t show up it wouldn’t be much of a launch event, would it?
She let her eyes travel around the garden, counting off the volunteers, ranger Finlay, the McIntyres, and hoping that no one could guess that she was looking out for a handsome man in vintage gear, hoping she could thank him properly for his kindness yesterday.
* * *
Today there were no clouds, only a little wind, and the mountains lifted like snowy cream-topped desserts up into the cold air. Cairn Dhu resembled a frosty little gingerbread town in its sparkling green valley.
The blue sky had rubbed off on Finlay, who had started his day with a surprising amount of positivity, and he hadn’t minded leaving his viewing spot up at the cruive and making his way down to town early, at Murray’s request. The place had been quiet, even for a Sunday morning in late January.
Senga Gifford had pulled him aside as soon as he’d hit the gravelled drive of the mill house, telling him she was doing refreshments today and forcing a hot chocolate upon him.
He didn’t normally drink the stuff, preferring his usual coffee, but he’d given it a go just to placate her and he’d found it absolutely delicious, and about fifty per cent melted milk chocolate. The whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles made it all the sweeter (‘the marshmallows are reserved for the bairns,’ Senga had told him when he asked for a few) and he’d actually been halfway to a kind of happiness when Murray had dragged him away from the basket of chocolate brownie bites he’d been about to sample, leading him into the kitchen at the mill house, a place he’d never set foot before.
There’d been Murray’s parents around the breakfast table, and the place had smelled of toasted bread and coffee and whiffy patchouli candles. They’d greeted him when he arrived the way they probably greeted their own son, all smiles and welcomes.
Murray hadn’t waited a second before launching into his, obviously pre-prepared, speech about how Finlay deserved a dog of his own. ‘Man’s best friend,’ he’d said, putting a puppy immediately into his arms.
It had been another ambush, like these Cairn Dhu folk do best. Finlay had placed the thing right down into its playpen.
‘Your heart’s in the right place, Murs, but mind you listen to Finlay,’ his mum had said gently, as she got up from the breakfast table, kissing Murray’s cheek, before pulling on a coat from the stand by the door. ‘Don’t be pushy.’
Murray’s dad was up too and lacing his boots, putting on a jacket over his overalls. He’d ruffled his son’s hair as he followed his wife to the door.
