Scott asks as they walk.
Lorraine shrugs.
‘I guess I was just too much. We separated three years ago. It’s cordial. I can’t blame him. Actually, I’ve started seeing someone. It’s new, but it’s fresh. Kind of exciting.’
It gives Scott such a lift to see the glimmer of optimism in her smile. She might not be a blood relative, but Lorraine is a sister of sorts, and it kills him to think how much she’s suffered over the years. They cross the wooden bridge towards the outdoor cinema and the repurposed industrial warehouses of St Pancras basin which now house foodie pop-ups, swanky restaurants and artisan shops.
‘You?’
Scott feels a small smile pull at his lips.
‘There is someone,’ he says slowly, looking up at the re-purposed gasworks buildings on the Regent's Canal tow path.
‘I knew it! I knew it! It’s that mother from the online parents' forum, isn’t it?’
Whilst Scott has restricted Lorraine’s access to Brianna, he has consented to her following the St Andrews Parent's online group. Lorraine says jokingly it is to stalk her niece, but he knows it is so she feels relevant.
‘Well …’
‘I knew you liked each other. All that pseudo seriousness about mattress toppers. You weren’t kidding anyone.’
‘Her daughter, Georgia, and Brianna are … wellwere… best friends.’
They walk in single file, stooping under one of the canal bridges as they head towards Camden Market. Once back in the fresh air, Lorraine straightens and spins around to face him.
‘Werebest friends? Past tense?’ she says over her shoulder.
They stand to the side to allow a cyclist and a runner to pass in the opposite direction then fall back to walking side-by-side.
‘Long story,’ he replies. They talk as they walk, breaking off only to afford space for other pedestrians and path users. They discuss Brianna, Lucy, the village they used to live in, which Lorraine is determined for him to visit again, and the wobbly step at the entrance to the pub that their oldest neighbouralmost took a tumble down after a few too many on a Saturday night.
They arrive at Camden Market, select some food, and stroll through the cobbled lanes looking for a place to sit.
‘So, you’ve been screening my calls,’ Lorraine says when they perch in a spherical capsule dedicated to outside eating on the outskirts of the market. She says it in a sing-song voice, but Scott can hear a twang of hurt that she hasn’t quite managed to suppress.
He feels like a complete heel, because, if he’s honest, there’s a lot of truth in it.
Every time he spends time with Heather, Lorraine seems to sense it and sends a stream of unsolicited communications. Or perhaps it’s simply a function of Lorraine having a very busy job and him spending time with Heather over the weekend when Lorraine has more capacity to nag him.
‘Well, I …’
He pulls at his shawarma wrap whilst she takes a forkful of Mexican rice.
‘So, you have been avoiding me?’ But there’s no animosity in her voice. Of all the people, Lorraine, he now sees, gets it. ‘What’s going on, Scott?’ she probes. ‘You know I worry.’
Typically, Scott would dismiss the suggestion and cut her short, but something about the past few weeks has changed him: Brianna’s vulnerability, his sense of insecurity over Heather, his desperate need to self-protect and the fear of history repeating itself.
‘The person I’m sort of seeing? Well, not officially. But kind of. Her name’s Heather,’ he says. ‘I think I’m falling for her.’
Lorraine drops her fork and clasps his arm.
‘Scott. That’s great,’ she says.
‘Is it?’ He chews his lip and gradually forces himself to voice his insecurities, explaining how letting someone close wouldcompromise him on so many levels. And although Lorraine clearly understands, she persists.
‘So, do I get to meet her?’
His face falls. ‘It’s not like that.’
