I nodded. ‘I’m Ashling.’

‘Bronte,’ she said, smiling back as she gestured to her badge. ‘Are these your kids?’

‘Yes. This is Saxon and this is Payton.’

‘Welcome.’ Bronte beamed but they barely managed to summon one smile between them. Somehow, I resisted the urge to kick them both. ‘Since you’re local, you get a discount. Are you guys here for lunch, the factory tour, or both?’

‘Both, please, but lunch first.’

‘Excellent and are you after a casual lunch or our fine dining experience?’

‘Casual, please.’ Fine dining and my children in their current moods would not a joyous lunch make.

Bronte led us to a table outside on the verandah that had an almost Californian beach feel to it. The tables and chairs were a rustic wood, each of them under a bright red umbrella, and we had a perfect view of the beach. Adjacent to the restaurant stood the processing plant and museum and right in front of us, a private jetty.

‘Can I get you some drinks to start with?’ Bronte asked.

We ordered three soft drinks—hey, it was school holidays and if Adrian could treat the kids, why shouldn’t I? Two could play at the bribery game—and then Bronte left us to peruse the menu.

‘You said there’d be nuggets,’ Payton exclaimed loudly.

‘And burgers,’ Saxon added, for once aligning with his sister.

‘I said there probably would be,’ I replied, dismayed as I glanced down to notice there was only seafood on the menu. The closest thing to a nugget was a fish finger! ‘Look, there’s a vegetarian pasta. You could both have that.’

Saxon made a face, but Payton was too busy exclaiming over the large fish tank on display, in which a number of lobsters were ambling around. ‘Oh my God! Are they alive? Are those what they feed people here? Ew. Why would anyone eat something that has been swimming only a few minutes earlier?’

‘People like it fresh, stupid,’ Saxon said, then immediately looked to me. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry, Mum.’

Clearly their moment of alliance had passed. ‘It’s your sister you should be saying sorry to.’

He looked to Payton—‘I’m sorry’—then back to me. ‘But I actually meant I’m sorry for earlier. I know it wasn’t your choice to separate or to come here and that you’re just trying to do your best.’

I swallowed, not wanting to cry in public, but his words blindsided me. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered, reaching across and squeezing his hand just as Bronte returned to the table with our drinks. ‘Ready to order yet?’

‘I’m just having chips,’ Payton declared.

‘Me too.’ Saxon pulled his phone out of his pocket, leaned back in his seat and began to play with it.

I swallowed and smiled at Bronte. ‘Two servings of chips please and … I’ll have the lobster linguine.’