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“No, I wouldn’t do that. Now, do you need more water?”
“I’m good,” Agnes groaned as Mrs. Edwards fussed around her, chatting about Josh for endless minutes.
“Here we go,” Mr. Thompson called as he came back up the stairs, thankfully interrupting yet another Josh story. “Hot toddies for everyone.” He carried a tray with steaming mugs and a huge cake. “And I found a chocolate cake in the fridge. Hadn’t been touched yet. It looks like we’re in for a treat.”
“That’s for tomorrow’s lunch crowd,” Agnes said.
Mr. Thompson and Mrs. Edwards looked so deflated that Agnes just sighed. “What the hell, have at it. I’ll get a replacement from the bakery.”
“Now that’s the spirit,” Mr. Thompson said. “Are we having a picnic out here in the hallway? Because I don’t think my arthritis could cope with sitting on the floor.”
“Come into my room.” Mrs. Edwards took his hand. “Have you seen my Josh McInnes cushions?”
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Then you’re in for a treat.” She smiled over her shoulder at Agnes. “Are you coming, honey?”
“No. I need to get to bed.”
Another door opened, and one of the young guests from Australia popped her head out. “What’s going on?” she said.
“We’re having chocolate cake in my room,” Mrs. Edwards said. “A midnight feast. It’s just like one of those books I read when I was in school. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Awesome.” The woman grinned and called back into her room, “Breanna, we’ve got cake. Get your backside out of bed.”
The door beside the Australians opened and the male half of the middle-aged couple from Holland appeared. “There is very much noise,” he said.
“We’re having chocolate cake.” Mrs. Edwards pointed at the tray. “Would you like to join us?”
He looked at everyone. Looked at the cake. Then shrugged. “For sure.” He called into the room. “Marijke, wij hebben lekkere chocolada taart met de buren.” He looked back at them with a wide smile. “Everything people say about Scotland is true. You are a very welcoming nation.”
“Isn’t it awesome?” Mrs. Edwards beamed at him as she led Mr. Thompson into her room. “Do you like Josh McInnes?” she asked the Dutchman.
“I think he is a singer, ya?” The man looked confused.
“Oh, he’s so much more than that,” Mrs. Edwards said as they all piled into her room, dressed in various sleepwear.
“Is this normal over here?” Breanna asked Agnes as she passed.
“Nowhere near it,” Agnes said.
With a bewildered smile, the Australian closed the door behind her, leaving Agnes with her hot toddy. She sank onto the top step and grimaced as she took a sip. It was good whisky ruined.
“I should never have kissed him,” she muttered to nobody.
Kissing a man was fun, but kissing a single father was terrifying. Kids needed stability and sacrifice. You couldn’t be selfish and have kids, and Agnes very much wanted to be selfish. She’d looked after her sisters for as long as she could remember.
Before she’d left home illegally at fourteen, not the sixteen they’d told everyone, she’d been the one to protect her sisters from bullies. And the one brave enough to sneak into their parents’ room while they slept, to take money out of their dad’s wallet so they’d have food the next day, instead of him drinking it away. And when Isobel had fallen pregnant at fifteen and their dad kicked her out, Agnes had been the one to leave with her.
It had been Agnes who’d lied about her age to pick up part-time jobs to support them. And Agnes who’d stolen when things got tough—and they’d been really tough when their two younger sisters left home to join them. By eighteen, she’d been responsible for her three sisters and her nephew. The weight of keeping everyone fed, clothed and warm was so heavy at times, she’d wondered if she’d ever get out from under it.
Yeah, she’d had enough of the responsibility and selflessness that went with bringing up kids. Now, she wanted to do all the things she couldn’t do when she was younger. She wanted to travel, and she wanted to live a carefree life. But most of all, she wanted the security she’d never had as a child. And the only way to get that was to work her way to the top of her profession.
Which couldn’t happen in Invertary.
So, no, starting something with a single father was the worst thing she could do.
Even if he did kiss like a god.
