‘You’ve done it, then?’
‘Twice. Three times, actually.’
‘And?’
‘And it helped. Like, really, really helped.’
He doesn’t want to hear that mediation with his wife’s killer helped her sister. It’s enough to force himself to not shout‘traitor’ at her and end the call. The idea something this monumental can be part of a healing process feels about as counterintuitive as you can get. Like placing maggots on an open, festering wound. Something that just can’t be right – even when the professionals tell you it is.
‘You should do it, Scott. Brianna, too.’
His heart freezes at the mention of his daughter’s name.
‘No way. No bloody way.’ The words are out like a reflex action, no filtering through the brain required. This response is hard-wired. Instinctive. His job is to protect, right? It’s a value he knows Heather would get without a moment’s hesitation.
‘Scott—,'
‘No, Lorraine. That’s it. End of.’
He can hear muttering in the background as Lorraine senses defeat.
‘So it’s a hard no?’ she asks, as if clarification is required.
‘A very hard no. Lorraine. Do not go there.’
Scott stands up, pours himself another scotch, and swallows it in one gulp.
‘So, what about a visit back here?’
The very idea of going back to the place he and Brianna left mere months after Lucy died is like forcing a stake through his heart.
‘Lorraine,’ he says, hearing the note of pleading in his own voice.
‘It’s time, Scott,’ she says. The shackles off. The truth distilled into two short words. He leaves her hanging. ‘Will you at least think about it?’
Scott takes a third drink to mark the end of the call and sits on the couch, completely bereft, and doesn’t smile again until he receives a text from Heather with an attached image of two strangers sitting behind a train table, covered with empty miniature bottles of wine.
“Found my tribe in first class” she types.
Scott gives the image a heart emoji, changes into his running gear, and leaves the house.
He knows he’ll need to tell her soon.
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Anyone know contact numbers for the site team at RR halls? My DD hasn’t had any heating for 3 days. They’re wearing their coats in the house and sleeping in thermals rather than make the call.
I’d be tempted to leave them to it. If they get cold enough they’ll call and sort it out themselves!
Yep. School of hard knocks!
