Part Seven
Friday, 20 December
Text messages between Henry and Halley:
Dad’s out of surgery. All went well. xxx
I’m so pleased to hear that! (Librarian still not been in touch?) x
Literally just got notification that the archive box is now available! But they’re closed 24 Dec–2 Jan, so I won’t get to check it out before 3 Jan, unless Rupert can work some magic. I’ll call him shortly. How are you? xxx
That’s exciting, though! I’m regretting agreeing to go to Chicago... I’m so tired, and Prof T wants to do interim checks on new analysis on Monday, before I fly.
At least you’ll be reassured that you’re on track, sweetheart. xxx
* * *
Sunday, 22 December
From: Henry Inglis
Subject: Good news!
To: Halley Hart
Dear Halley,
All’s going well here. The carer’s great with Mum, and Dad’s doing so well the hospital’s discharging him shortly. And , Rupert had the archive box transferred to St Jude’s library, which is open 24/7. I’ll check it out tomorrow, as Vi’s happy for me to return to Oxford for Christmas. She’s being mysterious about why, but wants a week away from the parentals over New Year instead. (I’m guessing she’s met someone...)
Let me know when you’ll be free for Christmas virtual dates. That’s my biggest priority, Halley — we’ve both had so little free time lately. Aside from that I’ll be studying these papers, if they are indeed about my Sedgwick’s, and going to Ruth and Kwame for Christmas lunch.
I hope the prep for meeting with your advisor’s going well. Good luck and safe travels for tomorrow, if I don’t get to speak to you beforehand.
Henry xxx
* * *
From: Halley Hart
Subject: Good news!
To: Henry Inglis
Babe, all that’s awesome to hear! Especially that your parents will be reunited for Xmas! And I’m so excited for what could be in the box!
Data prep’s all done, but I’m a little nervous about the meeting.
I have to rush to the airport afterwards so if I don’t update you immediately, I will once I’m in Chicago.
Your Halley
* * *
Monday, 23 December
Henry
Henry braked Viola’s car at St Jude’s vast gates. When she’d offered to lend it to him he’d been concerned about where to park, until he recalled that with college so sparsely populated at this time of year, space should be available on site. It had made it significantly easier to give in to her insistence that he return to Oxford. Short of emergencies, he should take a break until the twenty-eighth, she’d said, when they’d swap over, and he’d stay with their parents while she buggered off for a week with a friend.
The duty-porter waved from the lodge beside the gates, before they began to open and Henry navigated through. He wondered what was behind Viola’s reticence about her burgeoning relationship. She’d never refused to tell him details before, so perhaps this was more serious than usual. Or she didn’t want to make him feel even worse about all his plans with Halley crumbling into nothing.
Halley. He was desperate to see her, through a screen at least, after several weeks of rushed phone calls and short messages, but she was travelling today. Hopefully tomorrow, then. For now, there was an archive box to explore.
* * *
Note on Halley’s laptop:
Hi Henry,
I’m writing this from 30,000 feet over Nevada, on my way to Chicago. Because, on the rare occasions I have ten minutes free, I email or call you, and now I have a whole couple hours but no internet connection. Maybe I’ll send this once I’m at Mom’s.
I wonder if you know the right drink to order on an aircraft? With the altitude there’s a microclimate drier than any desert on the planet. This numbs our tongues to the point that it’s like losing a third of our taste buds. And the background noise affects our inner ear, causing us to taste umami better than salt or sugar. All this means tomato juice is the best option, so I’ve ordered a Bloody Mary. (There’s no improvement from the vodka.) (Except in the way it improves any unpleasant experience.)
I can hardly believe I’m writing this, but it didn’t go well with my advisor... no, it went AMAZING. Because of it, I’ve got a Christmas gift for you after all, though I wouldn’t know how to wrap it. But telling you in email is anti-climactic so I’ll wait until we vid-chat on Christmas Day.
Your Halley x
* * *
Henry
Henry’s phone buzzed insistently. He glanced at it, hoping for Halley, fearing it to be Vi. Seeing his sister’s name, he grimaced and strode into hall, which was otherwise empty.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Don’t worry, only updating you that it’s all good. Dad started giving the carer gyp — I’m perfectly able to fend for myself, thank you, Madam — but then she showed him a photo of her son, and he was delighted.’
‘Sorry, of her son?’
‘Turns out he recently joined the RAF! Dad’s loving it, passing on career advice and listening to anecdotes the boy’s told his mum. Which means the stress is off for us, and an emergency dire enough for you to have to rush back is unlikely. Were your papers the right thing, by the way?’
‘I’m about to check them.’
‘Well have fun! And don’t worry about things here. Not until the twenty-eighth, at least.’
‘Where are you off to then, by the way?’ Henry asked lightly. ‘I forgot to ask earlier.’
‘Hmm? Sorry, got to run — postie at the door!’
* * *
Halley
Halley emerged into the domestic arrivals hall at O’Hare. She didn’t look out for Mom, because her mom tended to call when she reached the pick-up point, where cars could wait for fifteen minutes. Until Halley heard from her, she’d get a coffee and—
‘ Junior !’ someone was yelling. ‘ Halley Junior !’
Halley spun and saw Mom a short distance away, her hands on her hips.
‘ Here, Mom ,’ Halley called back, hastening toward her. ‘Why’ve you bothered parking?’
The older woman didn’t answer as she scurried the last few steps, flinging her arms around her daughter. ‘Love you, honey.’
Halley hugged her back. ‘I love you too.’
‘You brought the bare minimum again,’ Mom noted, releasing her and grabbing the handle of her small suitcase. ‘You’ve brought your passport, though, in case someone breaks into your apartment, with you and Angelie both away?’
‘I have,’ Halley said, squinting at her with confusion. Angelie had made exactly the same point, several times. Before she could figure out what was going on, Mom was on the move.
‘Come along — we’re in a hurry.’
Halley had to speed up to catch her. ‘Why are you being weird?’
‘I’m a woman of mystery.’ With that, Mom refused to say another word until they reached her car and she flung open the trunk. Another suitcase was in there.
‘Wha—’ Halley began, as Mom hauled it out, re-locked her car and turned for the tram that transported passengers between terminals.
‘Hurry, Halley !’
‘Say that quickly three times,’ Halley muttered, but her confusion was rapidly lifting. Mom had sprung a similar surprise before. When Halley was ten they’d come to the airport to collect Aunt Edie for a visit. Only, once they’d arrived, Mom had produced luggage and tickets, and announced that instead they were going to meet her sister at Disney World.
‘Presumably it’s not Disney again,’ she hollered. ‘So where are we going?’ She raised her voice further. ‘Mom, I’m not walking another step until you tell me.’
‘Bye then!’ Mom called back.
‘That won’t work — I’m not a kid anymore!’
‘Have a nice Christmas on your own in Chicago!’ Mom waved, and disappeared around the corner.
* * *
Henry
Henry had taken the heavy archive box through to the confines of the oldest part of St Jude’s library. He’d verified that the number was correct, and noted that despite being handled and moved over the past few days, the box remained dusty. More than that, he couldn’t tell until he opened it. Instead of doing so, he’d been staring at it, because someone was speaking vehemently in the quad outside, her voice reverberating through the single-paned glass. Wanting silence, to concentrate fully, he waited for her to move on.
‘Of course it’s a mess!’ she added. ‘What would you expect?’
Abruptly, Henry stood up, seized the box, and returned to the library’s modern extension. He’d recognized the voice as one of his undergraduates — Ms Oxcited, as he’d dubbed her — and it didn’t seem right to listen in. He considered going outside to check on her, and enquire why she hadn’t left college for Christmas festivities with her family, but dismissed it as a welfare matter. He’d mention her to Ruth, instead.
He eyed the box again. He wasn’t sure where the trepidation he was experiencing had come from. If this wasn’t what he was looking for, he’d resume his search. Or if it was, but the contents were too degraded to read, or too dull to be of much use, he’d find a new research focus, no big deal.
But it was a big deal as, deep in his psyche, he’d linked the two searches, for the Sedgwick papers and Halley, and desperately wanted them both to be successful.
He put on his reading glasses, then unclipped the box’s lid. It was stiff, and he averted his eyes from the contents until he’d swung it all the way back to rest on its hinges.
Inside, it was full almost to the brim, of sheaves of folded yellowing paper, most of which were tied in bundles with cords or ribbons. Letters.
* * *
Halley
Halley increased her pace to a sprint, leaped, and made it into the tram an instant before the doors closed behind her.
‘Well done,’ Mom said, as it pulled off.
Bent almost double, her hands splayed on her knees, Halley gasped, ‘I’m gonna... kill you.’
‘Oh I wouldn’t advise that,’ Mom said warmly. ‘Not if you want to spend Christmas with Henry.’
All the air disappeared from Halley’s lungs, like she’d been transported into orbit. ‘What?’ she asked, after finally managing a full lung-inflating inhalation. ‘The... Hell?’
‘You look nauseated. Oh Lord, Halley — don’t say you finished with him and failed to let me kno—’
‘Explain what’s going on, Mom! Properly, from the start.’
Mom scanned her from head to foot. ‘Well, I told Edie about you and Henry — back when there was a you and Henry...’
‘We’re still together,’ Halley said, to stop Mom harping on about it.
Mom beamed. ‘I thought so. Anyway, Edie said it was such a shame that you weren’t seeing each other over Christmas, even for a few days, and I said, who’s got the money to buy a trans-Atlantic flight for just a few days, and she said I do ... so then I persuaded you to take a break and she bought you a return ticket to the UK.’
The tram slowed, and Halley grabbed a pole just in time to steady herself for the lurching stop.
Mom placed Halley’s small suitcase on top of the slightly larger one, and exited onto the platform. ‘I mean it that you need to hurry, Junior. Your plane leaves in two hours.’
Halley scrambled after her. ‘Mom, how can I just fly to...’
‘London Heathrow,’ Mom put in, without letting up on the pace she’d set.
‘Exactly! See I don’t even know where I’m going or when I’m coming ba—’
‘Leaving noon on the twenty-eighth, which, with the time difference, arrives direct into San Francisco mid-afternoon the same day. Even allowing for a delay, you’ll be at the telescope by dark. Any other concerns you need me to alleviate?’
Halley tried in vain to re-centre herself. She was going to England. Going to see Henry. To be with Henry. Her shock was dissipating, but in its place was a knot of so many entangled emotions that she couldn’t have put names to half of them. She moved her focus back to the practical. ‘I haven’t packed the right—’
‘I raided your closet,’ Mom said, gesturing towards the lower of the stacked suitcases as she continued the speed-walk.
If she did this, she’d get to the UK in, what, ten hours or so. With the time zone six hours ahead of her present location, she’d arrive at Henry’s boat on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.
‘I’m scared,’ Halley blurted.
‘Oh, kiddo. Of course you are. You want to go though, right?’
Before Halley could even consider her answer, she was nodding vociferously. ‘Of course. But, Mom, Henry’s busy with his family. His dad had sur—’
‘I’ve been monitoring that situation. For a while it looked like you’d be joining them in Hampshire, but now it’s confirmed that he’s in Oxford while you’re there — no, not by Henry ― your arrival’s a surprise to him too. And yes I do recall my ban on communications, thank you. Someone else passed on intel, but I’m sworn to secrecy on the details.’
Someone else could only be Viola. But Mom didn’t even know Henry had a sister. . . Angelie, however, had met Viola over video call that time.
‘So you told Angelie about this surprise, to make sure I brought my passport, and she turned double-agent and contacted Henry’s sister for updates on his Christmas plans?’
‘As I said: sworn to secrecy.’
Halley let it drop, since something else was niggling. ‘Mom, you said you didn’t want to be alone at Christmas?’
‘And you fell for it — honestly, Halley! I’ve been on the rota to work all along.’ She pulled her phone from her capacious purse, muttering about forwarding Halley her e-ticket.
Numbly, Halley confirmed that the email was in her inbox, and clicked to download the boarding pass, as Mom gave her a final squeeze. ‘I love you.’
Halley took her cases. ‘Me too, Mom. Merry Christmas.’
* * *
Text messages between Halley and Aunt Edie:
THANK YOU, Aunt Edie. Best Christmas gift ever!!
The surprise really worked — you didn’t guess??
It was a MASSIVE surprise!
Do you want a hotel room in Oxford? We’ll be on our flight to Tahiti when you arrive, so I’ll book it now if you do.
Thanks, but I have a place to stay.
That’s what your Mom thought, but as I told her, Halley needs to be careful. Men aren’t light bulbs — you can’t unscrew them.
I think it’ll be OK. Have a great time in the South Pacific!
* * *
Note on Halley’s laptop:
Oh my God, Henry.
Oh. My. God.
I’m on my way! I can tell you the news in person!
I’m so excited now that it’s hard to keep still, but I was half-frozen with shock at O’Hare. It only hit me that it would be smart to call and let you know I’m coming when the plane was taking off, at which point I had of course lost connection to the world beyond this metal cylinder, so now I have no choice but to perpetuate the surprise.
I’ll send you this, and my previous note, once we’re together. How weird, to be there to witness you opening and reading one of my emails! Maybe I’ll suggest you take a walk alone, to reply. Scratch that. We’ll have four days together — there’s no time for doing anything alone. (Aside from if you need to be with your family, of course.) (Also, bathroom breaks.)
By the way, I’ve switched to Virgin Marys because of what you said one time. That when you meet me again you want to be absolutely and entirely sober. I agree. Oh God.
Your Halley x
* * *
Tuesday, 24 December
Voice note from Viola for Henry:
Hal, call me as soon as you wake up. It’s nothing to worry about — the parentals are fine. I’ve found something out that you need to know — I’ll explain when you call.
* * *
Halley
Halley steered a luggage trolley toward the green nothing to declare sign, as anticipation slithered up her spine: Henry could be waiting for her.
After a nap at the start of the long flight, she’d changed her phone to GMT and drunk two black coffees. Getting accustomed to the new time zone as quickly as possible would minimize jet lag and ensure she’d be alert during Henry’s waking hours. During the long period in a cramped seat afterwards, she’d busied herself by replaying the information Mom had relayed, including her confidence that Henry was in Oxford for Christmas . She was certain Mom and Angelie had been conspiring, and pretty sure Angelie had made contact with Viola. As she mulled it over, Halley wondered if Viola knew she was coming, and if so, if she’d alert Henry, so he could meet her at the airport.
By the time the plane bumped to a landing, Halley had talked herself into the likelihood of Viola figuring out why Angelie cared about Henry’s Christmas plans. And when she switched airplane mode off on her phone and there was no message from him, her suspicion deepened. Henry hadn’t contacted her ‘in Chicago’ because he knew she wasn’t there, and was instead waiting at Heathrow to surprise her.
Clearing customs amid a small crowd, Halley hung back before the final corner to rub her front teeth and push her hair behind her ears. She hoped she’d done a good enough job of washing up in the bathrooms beside security. She didn’t want to smell skanky when she ran into Henry’s arms.
She took a firm grip of the trolley to stop her hands trembling, fixed a smile on her face, then rounded the corner.
* * *
Voice note from Henry for Viola:
Vi, I’ll make it by the skin of my teeth! I can’t thank you enough for the heads-up, and I swear, I’ll be there to take over with Mum and Dad by the evening of the twenty-eighth, as agreed! Thanks again and Merry Christmas!
* * *
Halley
Halley paced into her second arrivals hall in twelve hours, scouring every face of those waiting beyond the retractable barriers: there were a myriad of anxious relatives, exuberant children and bored taxi drivers, but no Henry. Reaching the end of the line she paused and glanced back.
Someone touched her shoulder, and she whirled: ‘Henry!’
But a stranger had brushed her — a woman, muttering an apology, with a baby strapped to her chest and other kids trailing behind.
Halley rose onto her tiptoes to survey the concourse. Henry wasn’t the kind of person to arrive late for anything, let alone to meet someone from a trans-Atlantic flight, and doubly let alone to meet her. But he might not have had much notice, and if traffic in the UK was anything like Chicago’s on Christmas Eve, anyone could be late.
Then again, maybe she was wrong and Viola had preserved the surprise, in which case Henry was pottering around on his boat, oblivious to her arrival. She gritted her teeth, calculating whether to wait, or get the express train to Paddington, where she could change to the line for Oxford. Ideally she’d call Viola to check, but she couldn’t ask for her contact details, with Mom on shift at the hospital and Edie en-route to Tahiti.
Worst of all, she decided, would be another mix-up like the Hope and Anchor, when she hadn’t waited long enough for Henry to show. So she’d head for a food outlet and watch for him, while figuring out a Plan B.
* * *
Text message from Halley to Henry:
Sorry to be cryptic but would you let me know where you are right this minute? Like, your precise location? Halley x
* * *
From: Halley Hart
Subject: URGENT
To: Henry Inglis
Hi Henry, you’ve turned your phone off so I guess you’re in the library and might still see email... hopefully, anyway!
Don’t freak out at all the missed calls from me. Nothing’s wrong, except transportation strikes and bad weather and... ugh. I’m not sure what you know already but I’ll explain everything when you call me. Urgently. Please.
Your Halley x
* * *
Halley
Halley rested her head against the coach window, looking up at the sky. The view was distorted by the kamikaze hailstones hurling themselves at the glass, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway ― no stars were visible through the thick cloud. The coach swung around a corner, and she recognized the street name and got her bearings. Oxford’s bus station was close, and she pulled her coat on in preparation for disembarking.
She checked her phone again, but there were no texts and the only new email was about holiday closures in Stanford’s astronomy department. Pressing Henry’s contact, she listened intently: straight to voicemail, again. Her thumb hovered over the number for St Jude’s she’d found online. But the friendly porter she’d spoken to twice already was adamant Henry wasn’t on site, and had already promised to inform him to contact Halley Hart immediately, if he turned up.
Disembarking, her face was stinging within seconds, as the hail pelted her skin. It wasn’t quite seven in the evening but was as dark as midnight in California, and she had to stop twice to seek directions to the towpath. Once on it, she became distracted by her suitcases which were awkward along the track, and stepped into a puddle so deep the frigid water sloshed up her calves.
‘Shit,’ she hissed, because it was preferable to crying. That would have to wait until she was dry and warm inside, recounting the misery of getting to Oxford in the midst of a rail strike on Christmas Eve. A cab driver had quoted her three hundred pounds, and all the earlier buses had been booked up, leaving her waiting several hours.
But Henry was in Oxford, and not at St Jude’s. Which meant he was on his houseboat, having switched his phone off for a reason that would be perfectly logical once he explained, and the look on his face when she knocked at the door would prove this all worth it. Though perhaps not until she’d cried. And taken a shower. And he’d warmed her up in front of his log burner.
‘Fifth boat along,’ she murmured. Henry had described the Blue Moon’s location several times, but the gaps between the boats were longer than she expected, so it seemed an eon before she reached the fifth. She directed her phone torch at the boat. It was sixty feet long and painted in yellow and navy. But unlike the four houseboats she’d passed, every window, porthole and hatch was black. There were no lights on inside at all. And chains were locked across the small decks at either end.
Refusing to accept that it was as empty and shut-up as it appeared, Halley left her luggage on the towpath and scrambled onto the open area in the back — no, stern of the boat. The deck was slippery underfoot as tentatively she tried the handle on the door. It didn’t budge, so she leaned in to stare through the small window beside it, tilting her phone torch to illuminate the interior. Everything appeared neat and tidy, but Henry wasn’t there. She angled her phone more acutely, and spied a photo of herself, outside Halley’s observatory, in a frame on the table.
It triggered the tears that had been building up through exhaustion and stress and the stinging, freezing hail. Her silent tears fell, warming her cheeks, until a sob tore free from her throat, recalling her to herself. Dashing away her tears with the backs of her hands, she screwed her eyes shut and breathed slow and deep.
Her biggest fear was that Henry was hurt. This weather and a bike were a terrible combination. But the coach driver had commented that it had been sunny at lunchtime, when he drove out of Oxford, so an emergency with Henry’s parents was far more likely. If he’d rushed back to Hampshire she could do nothing but seek some place dry and warm, and wait until he switched his phone on.
She didn’t have keys for the boat, and it was locked up pretty securely. Attempting a break-in risked getting arrested. Which left only one other place she could head for.
After climbing back onto the towpath she took a few seconds to plan. In case Henry had broken his phone, she printed a message on a page of her notebook, then tore out the sodden sheet, placed it in the clear plastic bag she’d needed for her liquids in the airport, and forced it through the padlock’s shackle. Then, fighting a wave of fatigue, she curled her numb hands over each suitcase handle, bowed her head against the hail, and slogged on.
* * *
Handwritten note from Halley:
7.05 P.M., 24 DEC.
SURPRISE, I’M IN OXFORD!
MY CELL PHONE BATTERY GETTING LOW.
I’M GONNA GO ST JUDE’S.
YOUR HH x
* * *
Text messages between Halley and Mom:
Get in touch when you’re off shift! I’ve arrived safe in Oxford, but Henry’s not here...
Just leaving the hospital. What? Why? Have you called him??
Of course! His phone’s off. Did Angelie give you his sister’s number? I need it.
Do you have someplace safe to wait??
I’m with Henry’s friends, who live at his college. Ruth’s a Reverend in the Church of England (that’s like Episcopalian — NOT a cult), Kwame owns Henry’s boat. I’m about to have a shower and nap in their guest suite. Do you have Viola’s number or not?
I can neither confirm nor deny anything. As I said, I’m sworn to secrecy.
Mom, that’s insane — I have to find Henry!
Mom??
* * *
Henry
Henry’s phone, stowed within his backpack, gave another buzz. He ignored it. When he’d been able to turn it back on he’d seen multiple missed calls from Halley, as well as a cryptic text asking for his location. As impossible as it seemed, she must have somehow got an inkling of where he was. He didn’t want to lie to her but was determined to preserve some semblance of surprise, so hadn’t replied. Anyway, it was unnecessary, when he’d be seeing her so very soon.
The air was so cold that every exhale was visible, but he refused to slow down. His heart thrummed as he identified the correct house. Steep steps led up to the entrance, and he took them two at a time, his feet crunching into the thin layers of freshly fallen snow.
The front door was red, with a huge wreath encircling a wrought-iron knocker. There was also a doorbell. He hesitated. Before he decided which to opt for, swift footsteps sounded from inside. Then the door opened and bright light spilled out, outlining the figure of a woman, a few inches shorter than him, with fair hair.
‘ Halley ,’ he said. For a split second, before his eyes had adjusted to the light, he thought he was correct. Then he registered that this woman’s hair wasn’t long, but bobbed above the shoulder. And her eyes, although a familiar grey, were set into a face that was twenty-two years older than his Halley’s.
‘Yes,’ the woman said. The voice was husky, like her daughter’s. ‘But not the Halley you meant. I’m afraid she isn’t here in Chicago, Henry.’