Page 8 of The Summer That Changed Us

‘I’m fine with toast, honestly.’

He pretended to look offended. ‘That won’t nourish your body, let alone your soul.’

‘True.’ She laughed softly. He’d added an extra challenge into his kitchen creations by trying to make nutritious food on a budget. She appreciated his dedication, after all money was always tight. ‘You don’t have to keep spoiling me, you know. I’m not an invalid.’

For the briefest of moments his brow furrowed, and she realised she’d hurt his feelings. But then he smiled and stood up.

‘Make the most of it,’ he said. ‘Once Callum and I go back to sea, you’ll be getting your own breakfast.’

‘I love you,’ she said, sipping her tea, which, as predicted, was exactly how she liked it.

‘Glad to hear it.’ He grinned and placed a soft kiss into her curls. ‘Then take a shower while I make you the best blueberry pancakes you’ve ever had.’

She swung her legs out of bed, listening to the creak of the stairs as Finn headed down to the kitchen. A door slammed and he started to whistle.

Her reflection stared back at her from her dressing table mirror. On one level she knew she had a pleasant enough face: she liked her deep brown eyes, the freckles across the top of her cheeks which she’d never grown out of and her pointy chin. Today though, she only saw hollows under those eyes, an oily nose, sallow skin and a spot on her chin.

What had Finn said? Good morning, gorgeous girl.

He never used to talk to her like that. He was more likely to call her Thumper because of the way she marched everywhere in her chunky boots, or Pixie-face, or Hedgehog-hair … any number of jokey pet names, but never anything as gooey – or, in her opinion, as wide of the mark – as gorgeous.

It felt like he was trying too hard. And the thought of what that might mean made her want to cry.

Twenty minutes later, she was on her second pancake. They were thick and fluffy (because he folded in whisked egg white, Finn informed her) and despite not thinking she was hungry, she was really enjoying them.

‘If you don’t mind,’ said Finn, pouring syrup over his stack of pancakes, ‘I need to go down to the boatshed and see if I can sort out the software in the GPS system. The guy was asking silly money to come out and repair it, so I’m going to have a go myself first.’

‘Fine with me. Actually,’ she forked up the last piece of pancake and avoided his eye. ‘I’m working today too.’ She hadn’t done much for Morgan for a while, but she’d email her this morning to ask if there were any projects coming up and then she was going to have another go at that seagull.

They locked eyes, both knowing that Robyn going back to work was a mammoth step forward.

‘My talented wife,’ he murmured.

‘It’s time,’ she said softly. ‘Besides, I need to earn my keep, it’s important to me.’

Robyn had been brought up single-handedly by her mum, whose relationship with Robyn’s dad had been over before she was born. Her dad had been an irregular presence in her life in the early years, but her mum’s love had more than made up for his lack of interest. She had drummed into her only daughter the value of financial independence and practised what she preached, working as an accountant for a brewery. She gradually rose through the ranks, pouring her energies into her child, her job and her home. Robyn got used to letting herself into their house and following her mother’s written instructions for making dinner, until one day, not long after starting secondary school, her mother was sitting on the sofa when she came home, waiting for her with bad news. Two years later, her mum died of breast cancer and Robyn’s loving home died with her. She moved in with her father and stepmother. She didn’t want to be there any more than they wanted to have her, and she’d counted down the days until she could save up enough to leave the house that she never thought of as home. She’d striven for financial independence ever since, wanting to be self-sufficient, to know that she had the money to fund her own decisions. Twenty years after losing her mum, she hadn’t changed, except that now she and Finn were a team.

‘You’ve had other important things to deal with.’ Finn reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Only take on what you feel you can manage. We’ll always get by.’

Robyn felt a stab of guilt. Fishing was a tough business, both physically and financially. Finn had taken over the lion’s share of the burden for long enough. The moment was broken by Finn’s phone beeping. He picked it up and his face softened into a smile. He scrolled through the message and then handed her the phone.

‘Aw, look at that.’

Robyn looked at the picture of Baby Betty in her Moses basket surrounded by an army of soft toys. ‘Cute.’

‘Callum says he left her for one minute and while he was gone, the other two kids decided Betty needed some company.’

Finn’s eyes were shining as he took the phone back and Robyn studied him, trying to work out what was going through his mind: pride at his niece and nephew’s kind deed, or envy of that perfect little girl, wrapped up tightly like a sausage roll, her tiny features peeking out from her blanket.

Positive, proactive, perky … That was today’s mantra. Having children of their own was no longer an option. She was reconciled to it, and Finn claimed to be too. But was he telling the truth? Or was he just telling her what he thought she needed to hear? Ask him, Robyn, just ask.

She licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry and opened her mouth to speak. ‘Do you—’

But down the hall the letter box opened and the post thudded onto the mat.

‘Hold that thought.’ Finn pushed his chair back, scraping it noisily on the tiled floor. ‘I’ve been waiting for news from a finance company, it should be here this morning.’

He fetched the mail, dropped a pile of letters onto the table and sifted through them, pushing a couple with Robyn’s name on them across to her.