Page 21 of The Clifftop Cottage

“Gabe, why don’t you come in through the back door? I didn’t hear you.”

“It’s not right – a person’s meant to come in the front.”

“You and your silly superstitions.”

“They’re not superstitions. Not exactly. Just … what should be done.”

Sorcha sighed but smiled, watching him as he moved around the kitchen. “Where have you been? And why are you wet?”

“I took the plunge in the river.”

“Oh God, is it that time of year again?” She groaned. “I swear you only did it last month! A whole year’s gone by, and what have I got to show for it?”

“Another baby,” Gabriel said.

“Well, yes. And I think four is enough. If it were up to Kenny, we’d have a whole football team.”

“A shinty team, surely. Or is it rugby that has fifteen?”

“Fifteen?! Absolutely not. I draw the line at four, especially when I spend every morning wrestling them into uniforms. Thank god for the school bus – I’d never manage to get them to school by myself.”

She suddenly sat up, tilting her head, listening. Then, with a knowing nod, she disappeared down the hall, returning moments later with a bleary-eyed baby, his cheeks flushed and his tiny fists rubbing at sleep.

“Callum, my wee lad.” Gabriel cooed, setting two cups of tea on the table. “Shall I take him for a bit?”

“God, yes, thank you. My shoulder’s about to give out – he’s getting heavy.”

“That’s because he takes after his uncle. He’ll be a big lad.” Gabriel lifted the baby up, grinning. “We’ll make a fireman out of you yet, eh?”

“Or a farmer,” Sorcha countered. “If his father has anything to do with it, all the boys will be farmers.”

“And what about the girl?” Gabriel asked, bouncing Callum gently. “You can’t be treating them differently – your little lady has fire in her. Maybe she’ll want to join my squad too.”

“You think they’d be putting out the fires, not starting them?” Sorcha snorted, taking a sip of tea while absentmindedly scrolling her phone again.

He rolled his eyes. “What rubbish are you watching now?”

She shrugged.

“Exactly. You waste your time on those things. Watching stupid videos about … what, people cutting into things that aren’t what they look like?”

“It’s my sanity right now,” Sorcha said flatly. “I can’t just be a mum covered in spit-up 24/7.”

“Well, you should come out with me next time,” Gabriel said, leaning back with a smirk. “A dunk in the river would be good for you.”

“Me in that freezing water?” She scoffed. “Absolutely not. You and your customs. If it’s not superstitions, it’s little strange pagan rituals. Dad tried to rope me in when I was a teenager, remember? The last thing an awkward thirteen-year-old girl wants to do is go swimming in ice-cold water with her brother and father!”

Gabriel chuckled. “Aye, you weren’t exactly enthusiastic about it. But it’s a wee tradition – it keeps the spirits at bay.” He half joked, but there was sincerity beneath it. “It’s just something we’ve always done,” he said. “A kind of … acknowledgement, I suppose.” He paused, shaking his head. “I don’t know … but it’s a tradition. Dad did it. His father before him. So I do it too.”

Sorcha rolled her eyes, sipping her tea. “Well, lucky for me, I have a different tradition – staying inside, with a hot drink, waving you off from the safety of the kitchen window.”

“Lazy.”

“Warm.”

Gabriel smirked. “Well, next time, I’ll come here first and drag you out myself.”

“Hey!” She gasped, kicking him under the table. “I’m getting hassled by my mate Holly to sea swim with her as it is, I don’t need you ganging up on me too.” She narrowed her eyes at him, though her lips were twitching. “One more word and I’ll drop the kids off at your door at the crack of dawn for some quality ‘Uncle Time’. I mean it.”