After giving David a cuddle goodbye, she places him back in his pram and wraps his blanket around him with maternal care. We embrace and exchange numbers with a promise to call soon.
I leave the hotel, happy to have Katie Clark back in my life. But for how long, and in what role—neither of us know.
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 theanimals’ 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 aliving 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.