Part Eight
Text messages from Mom to Halley:
Junior, you’ll want to call the house when you wake from your nap. Henry’s here, looking a little dazed. Apparently he learned this morning that an airplane ticket he hadn’t been able to use would expire at the end of the year, so rebooked immediately to come surprise you.
By the way, I assumed my ban on speaking to him without your express permission was temporarily lifted, because I didn’t think I’d have much success miming this series of events.
* * *
Henry
As he dialled Viola, Henry couldn’t take his eyes off the framed photographs of his Halley Hart, at a dozen different ages, that were set along the mantle. One showed her unwrapping a telescope, on a birthday in her mid-teens. Her face displayed the kind of delighted smile that fully exposed her lopsided pleats of dimples. It was the expression he’d been envisioning as her reaction to his arrival. He swallowed back the constriction in his throat, as Viola answered.
‘I thought you’d be too loved-up to bother checking in. Tell Halley hi from me.’
‘I can’t,’ he said bleakly. ‘She’s asleep.’
Viola laughed. ‘Knackering each other out so quickly was—’
‘Nothing like that.’ Henry interrupted more because he didn’t want to think about what might have been, than any real fear that Halley’s mother could hear. She was in the kitchen, on the other side of double doors, having gone to see if she had the fixings for hot tea with milk . ‘Halley’s asleep in Oxford.’
‘You rebooked for Halley to come over, rather than you going there? I told you the carers and I can cope fine with the parentals.’
‘No,’ Henry said, much more patiently than he felt. ‘I’m in Chicago. Halley landed in Heathrow about the time I was getting on my plane there, I think. I’ve only had the story second-hand, but it seems it took her a long while to get to Oxford, with the rail strike. Finding my boat empty, and that I hadn’t replied to any of her messages, she thankfully threw herself on the mercy of St Jude’s porters. They passed her on to the chaplain, who’s looking after her now.’
There was a long silence.
‘Vi?’
‘Still here,’ Viola said. ‘Just... Halley’s in England and you’re in America. That’s properly fucked up. What are you going to do? Where even are you?’
‘At her mother’s place. She’s kindly waved away my apology for turning up uninvited, insisting that I’m welcome to make myself at home for as long as it takes to find a flight back. Though Halley might be able to get here faster than I can there... I was hoping you could advise on which is most feasible?’
‘Hang on... Right, which option would you prefer?’
‘I just want to salvage something from this disaster, so a few days together in either location. But I’d be happier rushing back home than her returning here.’ The rattle of crockery came through the double doors. He didn’t want Halley’s mother to think that he’d rather have Halley to himself on a boat, than under her roof. ‘Halley’s journey was more onerous than mine, and it sounds like she’s shattered.’
‘And you were due to arrive back on the afternoon of the twenty-eighth...’
He confirmed the timings and his flight number, then re-examined the photos. He was surrounded by every version of Halley... except the living, breathing woman. ‘So near, and so bloody far.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Found anything? I’d like to check with Halley, if at all possible, before I rebook.’
‘Don’t think that’ll be the problem...’ Viola said apologetically.
‘What will be?’
‘Transferring you to another flight.’ He could hear her fingers flying over her keyboard. ‘There’re scant few departing tonight and tomorrow, and they’re already overbooked.’
Halley’s mother re-entered her living room, bearing an iPad in one hand, and a mug in the other, both held out in front of her like trophies. ‘Tea, and Halley Junior on Facetime, Henry — oh am I interrupting?’
‘It’s my sister,’ Henry said. ‘Advising on flight options. Vi? Halley’s awake and on another line — I’m putting you on speaker.’
‘Tell her I say hi,’ Viola said. ‘And what a nightmare this is — I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
While his sister’s voice echoed out from his handset, Halley’s mother passed Henry the mug, emblazoned with No such thing as bossy — only a boss, and propped the tablet on the coffee table. His Halley was sitting in an armchair with her feet tucked up under her. She was wearing something voluminous, fluffy and lilac, and, thank God, she was smiling at him.
‘Hey, Henry,’ she breathed, and then louder, ‘Thanks, Viola. I can just about hear you. This might sound crazy, but were you contacted by—’
‘Hi, Viola,’ Halley’s mother sang, lowering herself onto the sofa beside him.
With her voice so similar to her daughter’s, it would soon get confusing. ‘As well as Halley, via video call, you’re hearing her mother. Ms Hart, meet — well sort of — Viola.’
‘As I’ve already told Henry, please call me Halley,’ Halley’s mother said. Henry had no recollection of that, but then again, the depths of his shock in the few minutes after his arrival had rendered it rather a blur.
Halley rolled her eyes. ‘What’s that drink you’ve given Henry? Y’know he doesn’t like coffee, right?’
‘It’s tea,’ Henry assured her, smiling into the tablet as he brought the mug up to his mouth.
‘I didn’t think I had any,’ her mother said. ‘But then I found a tub of iced-tea mix at the back of the pantry. I figured, tea is tea, so it’d work for hot tea just fine.’
Henry manfully went ahead with his sip, swallowing speedily to avoid tasting the concoction for too long. It was vaguely lemony, and curdled. As he’d feared, iced-tea mix was not, indeed, tea.
‘Really?’ His Halley sounded dubious. ‘It’s OK, Henry?’
‘It’s... uh...’ He never liked to be impolite, and especially wanted to make a good impression on Halley’s mother, but had no intention of having more of the stuff pressed on him. ‘I’m stupidly fussy about tea, so this isn’t quite my thing.’ Halley glared at her mother, and Henry hastily placed the mug down out of sight of the iPad’s camera. ‘I gather that you were able to surprise me because of a gift from your aunt?’
‘ Attempt to surprise you,’ Halley corrected. ‘It was so generous of her, and it’s ended up such a massive fail.’
‘It’s sort of my fault that Henry’s not in Oxford,’ Viola said, sounding guilty. ‘My airline contact alerted me that the ticket he hadn’t been able to use is only valid for rebooking this calendar year. I told him it was use it or lose it, and surely four days together was enough to go ahead and use it.’
‘It was my stupid decision to keep it a surprise from Halley,’ Henry said.
Viola spoke up again. ‘Hey, Halley?’
‘Yes?’ both Halleys said together.
‘I mean, uh... Halley-who’s-dating-my-brother. Can you ping me a copy of your ticket, so I can look into rebooking your return?’ She spelled out her email address, then confirmed it had arrived in her inbox. ‘Damn — it’s not flexible. You can only come home on the flight already booked.’
‘I feared that might be the case,’ Halley’s mother said. ‘I’m sure it never crossed Edie’s mind that you’d want to cut the trip short.’
‘She was right,’ Halley said. Henry glanced at the screen and found her gaze on his. ‘I wouldn’t. Except for this balls-up, I wouldn’t.’
I love you , Halley Hart, Henry thought at her. His urge to say it aloud was so overwhelming that he knew it was real. This wasn’t an emotion stemming from jet lag or tiredness or the ridiculous situation. He loved Halley, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her so.
But only in person, and without half their relatives as witnesses. He made a vow to himself as he smiled at her. She caught him, and shot a confused look. He only shrugged.
‘It has to be Henry returning then,’ Halley’s mother continued.
Viola sighed. ‘Then 6.05a.m. on the twenty-seventh is the soonest available seat.’
Halley looked utterly appalled. ‘With the flight time plus time change, we’d only have, like, twelve hours together before my flight home. There has to be something else!’
‘Theoretically, one of you buying a whole new ticket, but even if you can afford it, I’m not seeing any availability,’ Viola said. ‘Shall I transfer Henry to the flight on the twenty-seventh?’
‘Yes, Vi — thanks,’ Henry said. It was hard to be sure on the tablet screen, but he had a horrible feeling that Halley was crying. ‘Give my love to Mum and Dad.’
‘Bye, Viola, bye everyone,’ Halley said thickly. ‘My phone battery’s low, so I’m going for now.’
She was definitely crying, and she disappeared from the screen.
* * *
Text messages between Henry and Kwame:
Thanks so much, Kwame. Really appreciate you and Ruth looking after Halley.
Looking after her isn’t a problem, mate. But Ruth gave me hell for not telling her that you have a girlfriend. I didn’t want to say in front of said girlfriend that you’d never told me!
She referred to herself as my girlfriend?
What? Isn’t she?
She certainly is. I’ve just never heard her say it.
Has she said anything else about me?
Mate, you’ve got it bad for Hallee.
It’s Halley. Like the comet. And, I know.
* * *
Halley
Henry was at Mom’s house.
Henry was at Mom’s house on Christmas Eve, and Halley was a quarter of the way around the planet, wearing a stranger’s dressing gown and unable to do a single thing to rectify the situation.
After getting out her charger and finding a US to UK converter in the depths of the suitcase Mom had packed, she’d plugged her phone in and set to checking Viola’s working. She searched available flights either way across the Atlantic on Skyscanner, then, in increasing desperation, triple-checked via each airline’s website. At one point she’d found an empty seat on a plane to JFK from Paris. After hopping onto a connecting flight to Chicago Midway, she’d make it into Henry’s arms late on Christmas Day. But, try as she might, she couldn’t find a way to get to France for the midnight departure. By the end of an hour, she had ascertained that Viola was correct. There was no availability at all before the twenty-seventh.
Henry was at Mom’s house on Christmas Eve, and Halley had never felt more sorry for herself. She didn’t even want to call back, and have to witness him on Mom’s couch, highlighting what could have been. Instead, she returned to rummaging through what Mom had packed for her. As well as warm clothing from her closet in Chicago, that she didn’t need in California, and the cosmetics bag she’d left there at some point, there were brand new multipacks of panties and socks, like Mom had bought every summer for her to take to sleepaway camp. As she refolded it all, she wasn’t quite smiling, but she found that she could finally face talking to Henry again.
He was in the back bedroom, she saw instantly when he answered, which Mom kept nice for guests.
‘Good morn — no, Good evening , sweetheart,’ he corrected, putting on his glasses.
‘You should be used to figuring out the time difference by now,’ she said, trying — and failing — to keep her tone light.
‘May I remind you that the first time we ever vid-chatted, you got it wrong and woke me up.’
‘I didn’t get it wrong! I just didn’t think about it because I was excited that you suggested it.’
‘Yeah yeah, that’s your excuse.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘You were actually desperate to see me in my boxers.’
‘You wish...’ She found herself smiling, grateful for whatever combination of instinct and good sense Henry used to figure out what kind of a funk she was in and respond appropriately. His earlier cautious sympathy had helped her avoid collapsing into sobs, and this cheery verbal sparring, which acknowledged her grouchiness while refusing to play along, was just what she needed now.
‘I wish you were here...’ he said softly. ‘Or that I was there.’
Henry was at Mom’s house on Christmas Eve. She considered it from a new angle. ‘You flew over three thousand miles to surprise me at Christmas,’ she said. ‘I think — no, I know , it’s the most romantic thing anyone will ever do for me.’
Henry’s expression was intense as he shook his head. ‘No it’s not. I’ve only just got started.’
Oh God.
Halley swallowed, then rolled onto her stomach. ‘Twelve hours isn’t enough. But we can make it count.’
Henry moved around on her phone screen, shifting to mirror her positioning ‘Absolutely, we can.’
‘So no sleeping,’ Halley breathed. ‘Or at least...’
Henry finished her thought. ‘Not solo...’ There was a sound in the background and he sat up abruptly and swung around, so she could only see his back. ‘Just chatting to her, actually,’ he called, in a very different tone of voice.
‘What’s going on there?’ Halley said.
‘Come on in,’ Henry added, before he was in sight again as he lifted his phone. ‘Halley, your mother knocked on the door and suggested that we call you back.’
‘I didn’t realize you were already talking,’ Mom said, coming into view in the background. ‘I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?’
‘Yes you did!’ Halley said. ‘I was telling Henry that I missed at least two meals. When Ruth realized, she offered me supper of beans on toast, egg and soldiers, or Welsh rabbit.’
‘I hope you didn’t choose rabbit,’ Mom said, looking repulsed. ‘You could catch ringworm, mycobacteriosis or several different types of parasite.’
‘Of course I won’t choose rabbit! I’m thinking egg and soldiers, even though I don’t know what constitutes the soldier, because beans on bread is weird—’
‘But safe at least,’ Mom said. ‘What if the soldiers are that Scottish sheep intestine thing — haggis?’
‘Eww, I didn’t think of that.’ Before she spiralled into complete panic, Halley recalled with relief that she had an expert at hand. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Babe?’
He started to laugh. ‘Welsh rabbit, or rarebit, is delicious, and certainly won’t transmit disease. It’s cheese and ale sauce grilled on top of bread. I have a feeling the name was originally derogatory, implying that the closest thing to meat that the Welsh could afford was cheese.’
Deciding that cheese and ale sauce sounded much better than beans on toast, Halley resolved to request that.
‘And the soldiers, Henry?’ Mom asked, sounding amused. She liked him — Halley could tell.
‘Toast cut up into fingers for dipping into an egg.’
‘So I was barely being offered a choice,’ Halley said. ‘Toast, with cheese, beans, or a fried egg.’
‘No, never fried,’ Henry said. ‘Not with soldiers. They’re served on the side of an egg cup, for dipping into a soft boiled egg.’
Halley flicked her eyes behind him to Mom, who looked as blank as Halley felt. ‘In England there are cups for eggs?’
‘Oh come on,’ Henry said. ‘ You’re winding me up now.’
‘Really, I’ve never heard of egg cups,’ Mom said.
Henry looked astonished. ‘What a shame. I’ll send you some.’
Mom’s mouth twitched, but she thanked him before explaining she was working Christmas Day, so he’d be alone from six in the morning until seven in the evening. ‘Once I’m back, we’ll order food and—’
‘Don’t get proper pizza,’ Halley said instantly. ‘I want to be the one to introduce him to it. Same for Chicago-style hot dogs and Italian beef sandwiches.’
‘So what — I should order him bad pizza? I can’t starve the man!’
Henry cleared his throat, but Halley ignored him. ‘You could cook something, once you’re back from work...’
‘Or I could cook,’ Henry said firmly, looking at Mom. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble, and I’ll have plenty of time.’
‘But you’ve never cooked for me yet.’ Halley had tried to pitch her objection humorously, but her voice wobbled, and Mom and Henry’s heads both snapped toward her.
‘We’ll figure something out,’ Mom said. ‘Halley, I presume you’re able to stay with this minister and her husband tonight?’
‘For as long as I want. They’re very hospitable. You don’t need to worry about anything this end.’ Halley purposely let that hang, because she couldn’t say: focus on looking after Henry — well, but not too well. ‘So, she’s not being too much of a lunatic?’ she added, once Mom had exited.
‘Not at all. She’s been very gracious about the fact that I’ve turned up at her doorstep uninvited.’
‘Don’t be a bonehead — you didn’t need an invitation!’
‘Funnily enough, that’s how your mother replied. Word for word, except that she called me a knucklehead.’ Thankfully, he seemed to be amused rather than insulted. ‘Halley, obviously I’d far rather you were here, but I have a feeling that getting to know your mother, and seeing where you grew up, will help me get to know you better even in your absence.’
Halley pondered on that. She didn’t have the same sense, but, of course, she’d already been to Oxford, and rather than being in the company of Henry’s family, she was with Ruth and Kwame. Right now, she longed for time on her own in a small room. Well, small boat. Because, short of being transported to be beside Henry, she wanted to be surrounded by the space he inhabited; getting to know him, even in his absence, like he’d described.
‘Does Kwame have a spare set of keys for the Blue Moon?’
‘Of course. You want to see it?’
‘I want to stay in it, if you don’t mind? So I’m already there, when you arrive back. If I go right after the Christmas lunch Ruth seems so excited about, then by the time it’s morning in Chicago and Mom leaves for work, we can keep each other company.’
‘For my part, that’s absolutely fine. But logistically it might be tricky. I shut everything down before I left, so to get heat and light and hot water you’d need to crank it all back on again.’
‘I mean, I’m pretty practically minded. Could you email me instructions?’
He tilted his head, considering. ‘Of course. And please, once you’re on board, make yourself at home.’
* * *
Text messages between Halley and Mom:
Don’t show Henry naked baby photos. Or any video where I’m 1/ singing 2/ dancing 3/ when I did a science experiment in the Junior High talent show, and got booed. Please encourage watching football: lots and lots of football.
Understood. Do I have permission to show him your bedroom?
If he wants to. But it’s kinda boring since I packed most of my childhood stuff away.
Oh he’ll want to. Anything to do with ‘his Halley’ gets the man’s rapt attention. I worried he might give himself an aneurysm from staring so hard at your photos.
Why ‘the man’? You like him, right?
If I didn’t like him, I wouldn’t have set the two of you up.
You didn’t set us up! We met without any involvement from you whatsoever!!
You didn’t get together until I told you he was searching for you.
Mom I very almost didn’t write him back because I was so freaked out at you catfishing him! Seriously, if you try to claim the credit for me and Henry, I’ll have no choice but to end it...
Idle threat, Junior... You’re all in with Henry.
I’m not dignifying that with an answer.
That’s fine. It wasn’t a question. And for what it’s worth, he’s also all in.
How can you tell? Is he talking about me? What’s he saying?
Oh come on. That man’s as giddy for you as a goat on roller skates.
* * *
Wednesday, 25 December
Text messages between Kwame and Henry:
Happy Christmas, mate. Your comet wants to move into the Blue Moon. Presumably that’s all right by you?
Happy Christmas to you too. And, absolutely.
Good, cos I already handed over the keys. Problem is, she rushed off there before I could talk her through everything. Should I follow immediately, or pop by later?
Don’t worry about going along there at all. The water tank’s pretty full, and I’ve explained how to sort out everything else in an email.
Some of it’s fiddly, though. Sure she’ll be all right?
Yeah, I’m certain. Halley says she’s got it, which means she’ll get it done. Thanks again for having her!
It was no hassle. Your girl’s sound. By the way, Ruth says you’d better not let this one go — Halley’s perfect for you. I said I reckoned you already knew that.
Was Halley privy to any of that conversation?
Yeah, and she ran screaming. (Why would we discuss that in front of her?!)
* * *
Henry
Halley was wearing a red jumper over her jeans, had gold tinsel in her hair, and was sitting cross-legged on his sofa in the Blue Moon, cradling a mug in her hands.
‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart. You found the cafetière OK then?’
‘I did,’ she said, with one of her dimple-flashing smiles. ‘I also found wine, but not any glasses — so this is wine in a mug.’
‘I’m a bit short on that kind of thing. Though I’ve got acrylic tumblers if you’d prefer.’
‘I saw.’ Her crinkled nose made it clear what she thought about those.
‘I know that life on the boat’s much more... rudimentary than you’re used to,’ he said, with a sinking feeling. ‘And it must be chilly after being empty for a few days. I’ll organize you returning to Ruth and Kwame’s—’
‘Shut up, Henry,’ she said, her nose crinkling again, this time in laughter. ‘I adore the boat. Why wouldn’t I? Look!’ She turned her phone around, displaying the wood burner to him, which she’d lit, so heat would be radiating out of it. She did a slow sweep of the stern end of the Blue Moon, explaining everything she liked, from the swans that had glided past, to how quickly it warmed up and how ingenious all the storage was.
‘How’ve you found the set-up? You’ve got water and power and Wi-Fi and all that?’
‘Actually, I didn’t get round to connecting to your Wi-Fi yet. If the call suddenly drops, my data plan’s out, and I’ll call you back. The rest was all straightforward.’
She’d probably sorted it all faster than he did, despite it being her first time, Henry reflected, smiling at her for being brilliant. ‘Before your mother left for work she pointed out a minor maintenance job , heavily hinting I should do it by informing me you’d have done so if you were here.’
‘Sounds like Mom,’ Halley said, grinning. ‘But I want all your attention, so please don’t bother. Unless it’s super simple?’
‘Replacing a broken light fitting in the bathroom.’
Halley flinched, almost spilling her mug of wine. ‘That involves the mains electric! Oh my God, she’d risk electrocuting you! Don’t you dare—’
‘I won’t,’ Henry promised quickly.
Halley hadn’t included his bedroom in her mini tour of her favourite things. Perhaps she hadn’t yet explored there. Or she had, and it didn’t meet with her approval. He’d tidied, after booking his ticket, but he hadn’t done a thorough job of it and changed his sheets.
‘I left in a hurry,’ he said. ‘I hope there are no glaring omissions...’
‘Henry, I told you I adore it here, and I mean it. I have everything I need. Except—’
‘Proper glasses,’ he supplied wryly.
‘No, you fool! On the scale of my immediate wants and needs, glassware is so far down the list as to be redundant. I need you here with me. Have you found the wine at that end, by the way?’
He glanced at the time. It wasn’t quite eleven, but his body clock was so confused anyway, it couldn’t matter. He carried his phone to the kitchen, listening to Halley as she described where to find the chilled white, and a corkscrew and glass. He ignored the final instruction, reaching instead for a mug, and pouring it in. Her mouth twisted with amusement, but she only asked what they should toast to.
‘Making the most of twelve hours together?’
Halley raised her mug. ‘Absolutely. And to the Blue Moon, because I love her.’
The video chat window went black. Halley’s data had run out.
Henry raised his own mug of wine. ‘And here’s to you, my Halley Hart,’ he said, longingly, into the silence. ‘Because I love you .’
Out of the silence, there came a sharp intake of breath.
‘Did you mean that,’ Halley said. Only it couldn’t be Halley, because she was in Oxford, and their connection had dropped. He shot a look around, wondering dazedly if her mother had arrived home hours early. But he was as alone as ever.
‘Did . . . Do . . . Do you . . .’ Halley stammered.
Henry’s throat constricted. There was no doubt about it; her voice was definitely emanating from his phone.
‘Shit,’ he heard her add. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’