‘And that time with Georgia? When he fed her nuts after I expressly told him not to?’
Her mother nods, her gaze shifting towards the lampshade before returning to Heather.
‘He forgot. There was no malice intended. But he was so ashamed he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, so he turned on you and blamed you for over-parenting. I think that’s why he told you not to come back. He couldn’t stand to see the judgment on your face.’
Heather swallows. ‘I was never—’
‘I know. I know, pet.’ Her mother taps her leg reassuringly. ‘But he felt exposed when you were here, I guess. Shutting you out was the only behaviour he could contemplate. And now we’ve missed out on all this time.’
Heather’s heart contracts when she sees a film of tears form over her mother’s corneas.
Heather leaves her mother’s house with a promise to visit more regularly. Perhaps to bring Georgia one time during her holidays. By the time she returns home, she has only twenty minutes before her appointment with Scott. She changes her blouse and speed walks to the coffee shop, her tummy flipping and her heart working double time.
SCOTT
Scott’s already on his second espresso when Heather arrives. Not because she’s late, but because he intentionally arrived early, needing the time to focus on what he wants to say. Heather’s face is flushed when she sits down opposite him. She reaches across the table and takes his hands.
‘I’m so sorry, Scott. There’s been so much happening. I don’t know where to start.’
He lets her tell him about how Georgia was when she finally tracked her down, about losing Maisie, about Bethany’s reaction to her paintings, and the resulting influx of orders. He listens when she describes her employer’s response to her email of resignation and the visit to her parents. She explains how apologetic her mother was and how her father is now a mere shadow of himself.
There’s a buzz and assurance in her voice which Scott guesses has been hidden beneath the self-doubt and fear of rejection she has carried over the years. But to hear it now, bubbling out, unfettered, just about carries him away in the flood. Because this optimistic, energetic, vibrant version of Heather is his favourite version of her yet. And the previous versions have all been pretty damn good in themselves.
He almost lets himself get swept away with it all. Almost.
‘I’m so happy for you,’ he begins.
‘The thing is, Scott, I couldn’t have done any of it without you. That’s what I’m trying to say. That’s what I’ve come to realise. That this thing, whatever it is,’ she moves her hand repeatedly from his chest to hers, ‘this thing works for me. Having you in my life works for me.’ She stops short and looks searchingly at him from across the table. ‘That is if—’
‘Can you do something for me, Heather?’
He doesn’t mean to cut her off, but it’s so apparent that they’re moving into different territories, he doesn’t feel he has a choice. The air between them stills. Heather sits more upright in her chair.
‘Anything,’ she says.
If only she knew what was coming.
‘I made a decision last night,’ he says, ‘a snap decision.’
Heather’s hands move from his and now lie still on the tabletop.
‘Right.’
‘Luca called.’
‘Your cycling coach?’
‘Yes. Mikail, one of the veterans, took a fall. He fractured his femur in two places.’ Heather’s hands go to her face in a gesture of horror and empathy that mirrors how he’d reacted when he was first told. ‘He’s okay. He’s fine. The thing is, Luca asked if I could take his place. We spent hours on the phone last night talking it through and checking the practicalities. Luca’s called in a few favours this morning, and, well … we leave in four days.’
Her eyes bulge and she pales. ‘We?’
He chews his lip. ‘I told him I’d go.’
Heather’s hands lower from her face and form a barrier across her chest.
'You're talking about the Silk Road Mountain Route?' He nods. ‘But you’re training for next year. Not this one.’
He nods again, slowly, giving her time to process. ‘Luca thinks I’m ready.’
