Page 71 of The Highland Fling

I sigh, but then my phone rings. I eagerly pull it out, hoping to see Grace’s name, but it’s an unknown number.

“Give me a minute,” I say to Ally, then I slip away in search of a quiet spot. There’s no one in the snug, so I take a seat there and answer the call. “Hello?”

“Aidan? This is Viola Adefope.”

Grace’s maw—I’d never have guessed it’d be her. Why is she calling me?

“Oh. Er, how are you doing? I mean, if that’s not insensitive to ask. Grace mentioned about the diagnosis. I’m so sorry.”

My mind is racing. Has something happened, and Grace isn’t able to get to the phone herself? Is that why Viola has called me?

“There are still more tests to do, but I’m hopeful they’ve found it at an early stage. If so, the prognosis is good.”

“That’s encouraging. I mean, obviously it’s awful you were diagnosed with it in the first place, but—”

“I’m not calling to talk about me, Aidan. I’m calling to talk about Grace.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. She’s gone out to pick up a few things from the shop. As for David, he’s upstairs, doing a bit of graphic-design work.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak to you.”

A knot of unease forms in my stomach. I can already tell whatever is coming will not be good.

“Grace has told me everything. I know she’s carrying my granddaughter and that you’re the father. I know, too, about your reputation as a ‘player’—and I thought you such a well-mannered young man when I met you. I’ve also heard about what your father did to your family, and as the saying goes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

This hits me like a punch to the gut.

“Despite all this, Grace seems besotted with you, but I’m familiar with your type. You’re not in this for the long haul. I’m not having you uproot her and take her and my unborn granddaughter up to the Highlands, only for your eyes to then drift to other women. You probably think you’re ‘doing the right thing’, but trust me, it’d be far, far better to wrap things up now than break her heart when the baby comes.

“Grace has a life here in London—don’t drag her away from that. You’re not cut out to be her boyfriend, and you’re certainly not cut out to be a father. End this charade before you do any more damage. Do you hear me?”

I’m so taken aback I don’t know what to say.

“I said, do you hear me, Aidan Stewart?” Her tone is sharp.

“Aye, Viola, I hear you, but—”

“Good. That’s settled, then. Goodbye.”

Before I can get another word out, she hangs up. I lower my phone and stare at it, shock ricocheting through me. I can’t believe that just happened.

CHAPTER THIRTY

GRACE

With a bag of supplies in each hand, and shivering against the cold, I make my way to Mum’s mid-terrace house in Haringey, North London. When I get there, I let myself in, put down the bags, and take a moment to relish how pleasantly toasty it is inside.

“I’m back!”

The last few days, David and I have been staying here in our old teenage bedrooms. Mum bought this place when we were thirteen and was rightly very proud of the achievement. Before that, my brother and I shared a room in a small flat—although it wasn’t nearly as small as the one I’m now in.

“Come through and get warm!” Mum calls from the living room.

I take off my shoes and coat then leave the shopping by the door and go to say a quick hello. “How are you doing, Mum? Are you okay?”