Georgia’s eyes are already drooping with tiredness, but her head moves from side to side. ‘No Mum,’ she says, ‘I’m staying here.’
Suddenly, Georgia’s head jerks upwards as she takes in a new person who’s entered the room. A small man wearing a crazy wig and a lab coat.
‘Mr. Hargreaves,’ she says, ‘what areyoudoing here?’
***
They’re all ushered back into the waiting area with instructions to return in the morning. Scott’s stomach knots when Heather takes “Mr. Hargreaves” to the side and whispers an apology to him. It’s clear he’s her date for the night, and the realisation does something strange to Scott’s insides. He feels a weird combination of conflict and jealousy.
Confusing, given he’s a bloke who doesn’t do relationships. He feels Hargreaves’s eyes drilling into him like a rutting deer, even though he’s the lucky one with Heather’s full attention bestowed upon him. Scott’s pretty sure that if it were him standing a hand span away from Heather dressed in that outfit and feeling as vulnerable as she clearly does, he wouldn’t waste his time evil eyeing another bloke.
But Hargreaves persists. He looks past Heather and checks Scott out while she talks. What’s she saying? Is she apologizing because sex was on the table tonight?
Withdrawing because she can’t entertain a relationship when Georgia’s unwell?
Maybe she’s telling him what a knob Scott was to her in the early days, although that topic may well have already been covered tonight.
Whatever she has to say, it’s wrapped up quickly. She hugs Hargreaves, and he kisses her cheek. Scott exhales a long-held breath when she doesn’t go in for a full-on snog.
Not that it should matter to him.
Unwittingly, his feet propel himself towards Heather at an equal but opposite pace to Hargreaves as he leaves. As Hargreaves walks past Scott towards the exit, he mutters, ‘She doesn’t even like you.’
Scott gives him what he hopes is a gentle smile – they’ve all had one hell of a night.
‘I know, mate,’ he replies.
Brianna and Trey, although adamant they wanted to sit it out in the hospital, agree to an Uber home, which is just as well, because Scott ordered it ten minutes ago and it’s already waiting outside. There’s no chance, of course, of Heather leaving. Scott pulls her into him once everyone has gone and gives her another hug.
This time, she feels more substantial, and she hugs him back. Her breasts, which have been tantalisingly exposed all night, rub up against his belly, and he fights hard to keep his emotions in check. This woman, who only a few months ago, he’d assumed to be an overbearing, neurotic parent, has proven herself to be a proficient sparring partner; a nurturing caring empath; a flirtatious drunk; and now a sexually provocative goddess. Few people surprise him in the way Heather McVey does.
He drops his chin to kiss the crown of her head, and she melts into him.
‘If it wasn’t for Brianna, Georgia could have died,’ she says.
No words can take away her trauma. Scott strokes her conker-coloured hair and holds her tight as the adrenaline leaves her body and she begins to shake. Then cry.
Afterwards, when she’s spent, he takes a minuscule step back.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asks her.
She laughs. The red rims are only slightly visible around her green eyes now.
‘Starved.’
They sit on a garden bench outside the hospital and devour a Big Mac and fries and peppermint tea that the Uber driver has delivered. Scott drapes his coat around Heather for warmth. Once they’ve finished and their wrappers are crumpled into fist-sized balls, he turns to her.
‘You know on the chat? When I called you an overprotective helicopter parent?’
She nods.
‘Well,’ he says, ‘I think I get it now.’
FRESHMAN PARENTS' ONLINE FORUM: ST ANDREWS UNIVERSITY
Hi everyone. Sorry, don’t want to be reactionary on here, but my daughter had a very severe reaction to something that was slipped in her drink at Jonty’s Night Club in Dundee last night. Please ask your young people to be on the lookout for themselves and others and to always keep their drinks with them. Sorry if this feels a bit over the top. Just want to prevent anyone living through the nightmare we had yesterday, if possible.
