“Yep. Sounds dodgy, all right. I’ve asked if we can view the property with them the day after drop off. Would that suit?”
Heather replies a few minutes later with a thumbs-up emoji.
A thumbs up emoji, for fuck’s sake. Talk about playing him at his own game.
FRESHMAN PARENTS' ONLINE FORUM: ST ANDREWS UNIVERSITY
Happy New Year, everyone. Question: anyone else getting embroiled into second year guarantorships? Agreement for my DD’s second year house is twenty pages long and full of legal jargon and massive deposit required. Landlord Mick Lafferty. Any thoughts?
(Admin)
Don’t sign. ML notorious. Get lawyer to check through. Lots of parents getting stung for end of year charges completely out of the blue.
Lafferty a known scumbag. Lots of students fallen foul through contracts with him.
Interesting! Thanks for heads up! Happy new term, all x
Chapter 21
HEATHER
Heather’sbrainswirlsasshe sits in the car park of John Logie Hall with the car engine idling. Not with thoughts of Georgia and her return to second term, but with a continual focus on Scott. Somehow, he’s pervaded everything and, in particular, her New Year’s Resolutions:
-Open Water swimming sessions? Sure thing, we’ve got an opening next month. Shall I sign you up?
-Congratulations on your purchase of our easy-to-assemble portable easel, popular with wildlife artists.
-Keen to keep your body toned and your mind sharp, not just for yourself, but for that special someone – try this collagen blend.
He’s everywhere. In her head, in her Google searches, in her interactions with friends and family, in her decision-making. It’s not exactly ideal.
‘Come on, Mum. What are we waiting for?’ Georgia says, finally giving up all hope of Heather turning off the car engine. It’s yet another indication of how her mind’s working: Might Scott be there? Is he thinking of her?
My Goodness, what is she, a teenager? Her nineteen-year-old daughter is seeming more on top of life than she is right now.
‘Coming. Coming,’ she says, plastering the “here to help” smile on her face as she leaves the car, opens the door and heaves the first of many boxes from the car.
The moment they open the front door, it’s clear they're not the first to arrive. In fact, they're the last. Georgia squeals, hugs and has a ten-second catch up with her other flatmates, then heads straight for Brianna’s door. She raps on the wood several times in quick succession.
‘Open up. Open up. Open up,’ she yells as she pounds.
Moments later, the door opens. Not Brianna. Scott. Heather stands just behind her daughter. Is her quick inhalation of breath audible? She turns it into a throat clearing cough and holds her clenched fist in front of her mouth.
‘Hi, Georgia,’ he says, ‘Brianna’s in the loo.’
Georgia squeezes past him in the manner of someone frustrated that the parents are always in the way today, and plonks herself on the mattress to wait.
‘Hi, Heather.’ Scott’s looking at her. And yes. She feels it. The gradual heat in her cheeks. She’s forgotten how all-consuming this level of attraction can be. Her face must be scarlet by now.
‘Need help with that?’ Scott gestures to the box in Heather’s hands. She’s kind of forgotten she’s carrying it.
‘Ah. Yes... It’s stuff for the kitchen. So, I guess I’ll just…,’
