‘In some butter with cumin seeds?’ he suggests.
Heather’s mouth twitches. ‘That would be lovely.’
Scott begins to peel. He sneaks a glance at her. She’s curled her hair and applied a sliver of green eye shadow to her lower lid. It looks incredible. Is it for him?
‘I don’t know about you, but it feels as though the past is beginning to catch up with me,’ she says as they work.
Scott fights the urge to drop the peeler and turn to face her full on. Because the comfort in knowing he’s not the only one feeling vulnerable in this way is so reassuring, it takes superhuman effort to maintain the required distance between them.
‘There’s so much I’ve not told Georgia about her dad. And her grandparents,’ Heather continues. ‘I thought it was the right decision, protecting her. But what if it’s not? What if she’s been curious her whole life, and it’s been stymieing her progress? Maybe that’s what was behind the sulks and mood swings when she was at home.’
The silence that descends indicates there’s a requirement to reply.
Shit.
‘For what it’s worth, I don’t think Georgia is holding grudges. And she doesn’t seem stymied. Just curious. And I guess it’s to be expected. Maybe they’re egging one another on with this genealogy stuff?’
‘My dad was old-school,’ Heather says. ‘He found it so hard when Dougie bought the company out. He felt he was being victimised and sidelined. Struggled to keep up with the new targets. He blamed Dougie for everything that went wrong in his life for a good few years. Sometimes, I think I was just the pawn in what happened between them. They both ended up abandoning me and Georgia in the end. It’s what I’ve tried to protect us from ever since.’
Scott gets a tiny glimmer of what it must have been like for Heather as a new parent, abandoned by her husband, having difficulties with her father and forced to change career to allowher tiny family some security. No wonder a fear of abandonment has driven her adult decisions ever since.
‘You said as much in the hospital.’
Heather sprays oil on the baking tray and carefully lines the sausages up in columns. Scott finds the uniformity strangely comforting.
‘I did?’
‘You told me you needed to be always on your guard to protect yourself and Georgia from being abandoned.’
She stays silent for a moment. ‘Right.’
Heather begins wiping the kitchen surfaces and Scott takes the baking tray of sausages and the porcelain dish containing the carrots and parsnips and places them both in the smaller of her two ovens and sets the timer.
‘Mum! Scott!’ Georgia’s yell pierces the atmosphere. ‘Trey’s on a video call. Come on. We need you to say “hi”.’
Trey’s riding a camel on a sand dune in the middle of the Sahara desert. He has a bright blue nomadic scarf wrapped around his head in a turban and draped across his shoulders to protect his nose and mouth from sand and wind.
Three camels strut behind him, and a group of five walkers stand on the sand below. Trey turns to catch the eye of one of the walkers and encourages them to wave in the direction of his phone. Scott recognises the mother and son from their FaceTime chat at Thanksgiving. Heather yells, ‘Say hi to Bethany for us. And to Mason. Tell them Happy Christmas.’
‘I will. Mum keeps threatening to come back to St Andrews with me, so you might see her sooner than you think.’
The figures in the background lift their hands above their heads and wave.
Trey readjusts the screen towards himself. His face, exposed now his scarf has fallen, is visibly grimy.
‘We’ve been trekking for days,’ he says, rubbing his eyes. ‘Everything feels gritty. But we're loving it. The camping's great, but it’s kinda weird using the toilet tent. It’s just a tiny rectangle placed over a hole in the sand with a shovel in the corner.’
‘Gross.’ Brianna and Georgia share a grimace. ‘Looking forward to seeing you at Hogmanay.’ Brianna has already begged to be excused from the now-traditional New Year’s Eve celebrations in St Albans in favour of a traditional Scottish Hogmanay in Edinburgh.
‘So have you got the mistletoe I sent you?’ Trey winks down the phone at the girls.
Georgia pulls a branch of green leaves and tiny white berries from the pocket of her fleece and brandishes it at the camera. The girls had each unwrapped a sprig from Trey earlier in the day.
Trey, meanwhile, rummages in his jacket pocket and produces a branch of his own. Then he and Georgia lift the branch above their heads and pout in a kissing motion towards the camera. Brianna follows suit, and the two girls give each other a peck on the cheek before kissing their parents.
‘Parents turn?’ Trey says.
Heather and Scott send each other a horrified look. Scott notices the blush of red on Heather’s cheeks and stiffens. Brianna and Georgia begin to clap. ‘Parents. Parents. Parents.’ They chant.
