Page 8

Age fifteen

Sunlight breaks through the clouds and dances on the surface of Loch Bannock. Lewis sends another stone skipping across the water while I sway gently back and forth on the old tree swing. It’s just the two of us—no one else as far as the eye can see—and that’s exactly what I need today. I’ve had it up to here with other people, with their pitying looks and whispered gossip.

“Oh, wow, did you see that?” Lewis grins at me, brimming with pride. “Seven bounces!”

I manage a weak smile. “Nice one.”

“All right, the new target is eight.” He hunts for another stone, determined to beat his record.

This last week he’s been amazing. He hasn’t pried or pushed me to chat about things. There’s been no judgement in his gaze, only steady support. Any time I’ve needed him, he’s been there for me, even if just to hang out together in friendly silence. His patience has meant the world to me, but . . . maybe it is time we talked.

I kick at the ground, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. “What would you do if you found out your da had another woman?” I say. “And not only that, but another child—a four-year-old half-brother you knew nothing about?”

Lewis pauses mid-throw and considers my question. “Honestly? I’d be a mess. It amazes me you’re managing to keep it together.” With that, he flings the stone. This one skips six times.

“I don’t feel like I’m keeping it together,” I admit.

“Aye, well, you’re entitled to be upset and confused. The news stunned us all. I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through—he’s your da—but . . . I have known him my whole life. Hell, when I was little, I called him Uncle Ewan because your maw and da are practically like an aunt and uncle to me. So maybe I understand the tiniest fraction of what you’re experiencing, and . . . it’s shit.” He shrugs. “It really is just shit.”

I swallow and nod. “It is.”

He selects another stone, tosses it up in the air, and catches it. “Your turn.”

“I’ve never been able to skip stones.”

“I know, and it’s time we sorted that. C’mon!”

Reluctantly I slide off the swing and onto the pebbled shore then take the stone from him. With a quick flick of my wrist, I send it flying, but instead of elegantly skimming across the water, it plunges straight in with a splash. I watch the ripples spread, wishing my troubles could sink just as easily. If only life were that simple.

“Er, not a bad attempt, but that was more of a plop than a skip.” Lewis chuckles softly. “Want to try again? I can help you with your form if you’d like.”

“Nah. I’m not really in the mood.”

“Fair enough.” He walks over to his backpack and unzips it. “In that case, how about this?” He pulls out a round biscuit tin and whips off the lid.

Inside is a rich, golden-yellow cake, its top dusted with icing sugar. Jam and cream ooze out from between the layers.

“Victoria sponge!” My chest tightens with a sudden rush of emotion that catches me off-guard. Grateful beyond words for having such a thoughtful friend, I fling my arms around him—only to send the tin tumbling from his hands.

“Crap!”

We both watch as it falls, time seeming to slow down. Lewis instinctively reaches for it, but it’s no good: his fingers barely graze the side. A disastrous splat seems a certainty but . . . it lands the right way up. The top layer of sponge slides off slightly, leaving the cake looking a little lopsided, but otherwise—miraculously—it’s unscathed.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. We stand frozen in amazement.

Lewis is the first to break the silence with a disbelieving laugh. “Wow, I thought for sure that was going to flip over and splatter everywhere. See? Things don’t always go wrong.”

“Aye, I suppose you’re right.” I chuckle, the heavy weight that’s been dragging me down all week lifting just a little. “Now, did you bring a knife or do I have to judo-chop myself a piece?”

With a wink Lewis produces a plastic knife then cuts us each a slice. No sooner has he done so than I grab one, shove it in my mouth, and groan.

“Oh! Fluffy perfection!” I mumble mid-chew. “So . . . good.”

“Er, I actually brought paper plates and forks too, but your way does look more fun.” Sitting on a root, Lewis copies my method.

“Cake makes everything better,” I say, returning to the swing. “By the way, you can squeeze on here with me if you want.”

“Nah, it might be a tad tight. I know we both fitted when we were younger, but I think we’re a bit big for it now.”