Cal shrugged, as if to say Why are you asking me? Heather was about to remind him exactly why this was his problem, too, when his face fell and his eyes grew wide.
‘Oh, hell.’
‘What?’
‘It’s his birthday. This weekend.’
Cal looked mortified that he’d forgotten. Heather was just relieved that he’d remembered now.
‘I need to buy him a present, right? What on earth do I get him?’
Of course he thought this was all about the present. Ryan’s first birthday without his parents there to celebrate with him and Cal thought it could be fixed with a remote-control helicopter or something.
Which actually wasn’t a bad gift idea, now she thought about it. But it wasn’t going to be enough.
Chewing on her lower lip, Heather doodled a helicopter on the notepad in front of her.
‘Actually,’ she said slowly, ‘I’ve got a good idea.’
* * *
Cal wasn’t entirely sure how him organising Ryan’s birthday celebrations was a good idea. In fact, it seemed like a bad one to him. But Heather was adamant.
‘It’s the perfect opportunity for you to show him that you’re here, that he’s not parentless, and that you know important things about him.’
‘Like when his birthday is?’
‘Like what he enjoys and how he’d like to celebrate,’ Heather corrected him.
Cal sighed. ‘Except that’s the point. I don’t know that stuff.’
‘Well, if his birthday is on Saturday you’ve got three days to learn. Right? And you did okay in Edinburgh. You’ll be fine.’
Not helpful. If he’d remembered that Ryan’s birthday was coming up he’d definitely have saved the trip to the World of Illusions for that. Now he was all out of ideas.
As if he didn’t have enough to do without a nine-year-old’s birthday party to arrange. He’d tried quizzing Daisy on what sort of things they’d done for birthdays before, but that hadn’t been as helpful as he’d hoped.
‘Mostly we just had a birthday tea here,’ she’d said with a shrug. ‘Mum would get a cake from the bakery in town, and sometimes we’d invite a friend each, but that was about it.’
Well, cake he could manage. Friends he could not. As far as he’d seen since he’d returned neither child had any—or wanted any. They were happiest in each other’s company.
Although, as a book on Heather’s reading list had informed him, that was probably because they were the only people who understood what they’d each been through.
A bit like him and Heather, really. They’d both been disillusioned by someone they loved, and both had had to cope with a scandal looming over their heads, waiting to break.
And he absolutely wasn’t going to make it worse by kissing her. However much he wanted to. God, he really wanted to.
Except when she landed him with things like organising Ryan’s party.
In the end he’d come up with a plan, of sorts—only slightly assisted by Heather on the subject of present ideas. He had no idea if Ryan would have chosen the same things to celebrate turning nine, but at least it showed he was making an effort—he hoped.
This stuff he could do. This kind of thing came with an action list and a basic template. He could follow instructions well enough. It was figuring out how to deal with the stuff that didn’t come with a manual—like emotions and love—that caused him problems.
* * *
Saturday dawned sunny and bright, fortunately for Cal’s plans. Mrs Peterson made pancakes for breakfast—much to everyone’s delight—and Ryan opened presents from Daisy, Heather, Mrs Peterson and Cal himself.
Heather’s presents were books, unsurprisingly, but since they seemed to be about some sort of monsters, and brave young boys capturing and training them, Ryan was thrilled. Daisy had spent some of her pocket money in the sweet shop last time they went to the village, so Ryan now had enough sugary chewy things to rot his teeth for months. Mrs Peterson had bought him a sensible jumper for the Scottish winters. And Cal, on Heather’s advice, had bought him a remote-control helicopter.
‘This is awesome! Thank you, Uncle Cal!’