Part Thirteen
Text messages from Henry to Halley:
You called me crabby, and you were right, Halley. I love you and am sorry. xxx
Halley, I shouldn’t have got so angry. You probably need to tick me off before you can consider forgiving me, and that’s fin e . I’ll keep an eye on messages xxx
* * *
Monday, 20 January
Text messages between Halley and Henry:
I didn’t purposefully ignore your apology last night, Henry. I read it, started figuring how to reply, then fell asleep early. I’m setting off from my motel now, but I’ll check my messages at my first gas stop. x
So pleased to hear from you, sweetheart. Vid-call me when you stop for the night, however late? And drive safe. xxx
That’ll be at least 3 a.m. your time though? x
Not a problem. Stay safe! xxx
* * *
Henry
There was an insistent buzz. He was vaguely aware it meant something important, but he was knackered after forty-eight hours waiting at the hospital and—
He instantly threw back the duvet and sat up. Mum was in hospital, having suffered a stroke, and the intensive care team had promised to call with any updates.
Only, Viola’s landline wasn’t ringing. It was the alert for an incoming video call on his laptop. Which meant Halley.
He pressed to accept it, rubbing his eyes. Then he glanced at the screen, where Halley appeared to be upside down. He rubbed his eyes harder still, but she remained upside down, her hair trailing on a purple mat.
Her voice was muffled. ‘Do you mind about this? I’m so stiff, if I don’t do some stretches I’ll be in agony in the morning.’ He tilted his head, working out that her knees were in the foreground, with her head behind them. She had folded over from her hips, then, and flattened her soles and palms against the mat. ‘I’m sorry we fell out,’ she added. ‘I know you’ve been anxious about my drive.’
‘You’ve nothing to apologize for,’ he said, recalling the good old days, when he was merely anxious about her drive. Since Mum’s collapse, anxiety had strengthened into sheer terror — not helped by witnessing a paramedic running a comatose patient into A&E, yelling that her car had crashed with a lorry. ‘My... heebie-jeebies aren’t your problem, Halley.’
She squinted at him. ‘Where are you?’
‘Viola’s sofa. I came down because Mum wasn’t feeling great and stayed because Aron arrived to surprise Viola, but everything’s under control now.’ None of it was a lie — and all a pale reflection of the truth. Halley had enough on her plate so he refused to add to her distractions.
‘That’s what you didn’t want to tell me while I was driving? And you promise your mom’s OK now?’
‘I texted you about it almost immediately,’ he said, deliberately only answering her first question. ‘But I took the fact that the text didn’t go through as a message from the cosmos, that it wasn’t the moment to let you know.’ Before she could ask for more details, he added quickly, ‘Tell me about the drive?’
‘It’s boring,’ she said, remaining upside down. ‘And I’m only halfway there. Can I really not persuade you to chat while I drive? Pretend I’m not your Halley, if it helps. Just some random bored Halley.’
He laughed a little. ‘The last thing I want to imagine is you being some random girl to me. You’re the love of my life!’
She glowered at him. ‘Dr Henry Inglis, why would you make a declaration like that when I’m upside down ?’
‘I’m sure I’ve told you that before?’
‘Only as a sign-off in an email, quoting Lawrence Sedgwick,’ she said, finally righting herself. Her face was rosy and her hair an insane mess.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said impulsively. ‘And I’ve never told you anything I don’t mean, even with borrowed valedictions.’ Their eyes locked, and the intensity stretched between them. He was sure she was also thinking a million kisses . But he was on his sister’s sofa, so he cleared his throat, as Halley dimpled at him, then resumed her stretching.
With her back straight, she reached to her right. ‘There’s something up with you... is your mom really—’
His heart thudding, he intervened. ‘I had a nightmare about all the hazards of your journey.’ It was true, as it happened.
Switching to stretch to her left, Halley rolled her eyes. ‘Do you need me to list all my risk-mitigations? No — you list the hazards, and I’ll answer with how I’ve mitigated against them.’
‘Some idiot crashing into you, or your car breaking down in the middle of nowhere,’ he blurted.
‘I keep a large braking distance, and don’t speed. Plus, I have a spare tyre, tools, and I changed my oil before I left. I’ve got plenty of bottled water to top up the radiator if the engine overheats. And I’m subscribed to the top-rated roadside assistance plan. Keep ’em coming...’
‘Bad weather?’
She centred herself and swooped both arms up towards the ceiling, palms together and fingertips extended. ‘I’ve got antifreeze, an ice scraper, and a small shovel, in case there’s snow when I’m parked up overnight. But I’ll stop if there’s any sign of a storm, and wait it out in a motel.’
‘I suppose tiredness is the other major hazard.’
‘I’ve got cans of iced coffee for when I can’t get the real stuff, and packets of hard candy. You know you can’t fall asleep with something in your mouth? It’s an instinct, to keep from choking.’
‘I can’t think of any more,’ Henry said, feeling calmer. Halley had this.
‘Well, I can,’ she said indignantly. ‘Risk, dazzle from the sun — then flip down the visor, and wear the sunglasses my boyfriend posted back to me. Risk, injury — I have a well-stocked first aid kit. Risk, getting too stiff to have good response times the next day — this yoga mat. Risk, not being near a gas station when I need to pee — I have a she-wee.’
Henry debated enquiring what a she-wee was, and got another flash of Halley’s dimples. ‘Ask Viola,’ she said. ‘Has all that made you feel better?’
Even as he assured her it had, he had another thought. ‘How much can you do about personal safety, though?’
‘Keep my doors locked. Avoid sketchy motels. Only give rides to hitchhikers with a kind demeanour and clean fingernails.’
‘Halley!’
‘Fine, sorry.’ She switched her overhead light off and his screen became shades of grey and silver. ‘Remember, I’ve been driving since I was fifteen, repairing cars since I was twelve, and absorbing street smarts since I was conscious of my surroundings in Chicago. Thanks to living in Stanford, I even know what to do if I encounter a mountain lion this trip — I read up about it, when they were sighted on the road to the observatory.’
He hadn’t even known he needed to panic about mountain lions. But Halley missed his expression, turning away to pile pillows together. ‘Update me on your mom?’
‘I’d honestly rather talk about anything else,’ he said gently. ‘What about your mum? Were you genuinely upset she didn’t cancel the retreat, to wave you off?’
She flopped onto the pillows. ‘No. Or, maybe a little? It’s complicated, because it ties in with something that’s bothered me for a really long time.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Is there any risk at all that Viola can hear us?’
‘She’s not even here.’
‘OK. Just... I’ve never told anyone this. When I was eighteen, I accidentally overheard Mom talking to a friend, who asked why she’d been single since my dad died. I knew I shouldn’t continue listening, but I’d never known her even to casually date, and suddenly, like, desperately wanted to know the answer. Anyway, her friend pushed her a bit, and Mom said—’ she broke off and bit her lower lip.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Henry whispered
‘I want to.’ She inhaled slowly. ‘She said, when Dad was dying, and she was facing raising me as a hard-up single Mom in an inner-city, she swore two things. To stay in college and get her nursing license, so she could provide for me. And to stay single, because... the biggest risk-factor for a kid — especially a fatherless girl — being like, groomed or whatever, was sharing a home with a man who wasn’t a blood relative. Can you imagine how guilty I felt?’
Henry chose his words carefully. ‘Some might say that was her choice, not something for you to carry.’
‘I tried to tell myself that, but it didn’t help. Especially as I’d already accepted the place nearby, at Northwestern, and during my four years there she still didn’t date. So I applied to grad schools as far away from Illinois as possible... I didn’t only choose Stanford because it was my furthest offer from home, but I didn’t exactly not, either. I even broke up with someone in the process — he wanted me to go to Florida, where he was headed — but he was no loss.’
He remembered the text that had intrigued him, when he was rushing through the airport. ‘Would that be that one ex we all regret?’
‘Exactly. When he didn’t get a Stanford offer and I did, he tried to talk me out of going by saying I wouldn’t fit in.’
‘What an absolute arsehole.’
‘Yeah. Mom never liked him. The first time they met she told me he stole my light, and I should have listened... Anyway, I got to Stanford determined to be independent, and not go home too often, giving Mom the space to find some happiness, y’know? But she still doesn’t date, and the only difference in her routine is the vacations she takes with Aunt Edie. I keep hoping she’ll meet someone through one of those. So I certainly didn’t want her to cancel a retreat in Arizona where she could meet a hot cowboy or something.’ Her sudden levity ended as quickly as it had begun. ‘Henry?’
‘Yes, sweetheart?’
‘That’s haunted me my whole adult life. That Mom’s lonely because of me. Have you had anything like that, that weighs on you when you try to sleep?’
He closed his eyes for a moment, unable to think of anything beyond what was happening at the hospital. But it wasn’t exactly what she was asking. And if she was as upset by it as he suspected she would be, she’d be in no fit state for another two days solo driving. So he delved deeper, into the things he’d never expressed to anyone. ‘For a long time,’ he said eventually, in an undertone, ‘I worried that I wasn’t capable of the kind of love my parents share. There’s this... indefinable strength to it that made them prioritize each other, over and over again. From the beginning, when Mum turned her back on music to live on seventeen different RAF barracks in twenty years, to... now, when Dad limps three flights of stairs to bring Mum her morning tea, because he thinks moving out of the bedroom she’s known for twenty years would distress her.’
Halley shifted the phone as she rolled onto her side. ‘Keep going. I’m listening.’
He inflated his lungs. ‘All my relationships fizzled out, after one date or five or a dozen at most. It became a running joke during my Ph.D. years — Henry specializes in such amicable break-ups that his exes end up dating his friends. But I only managed that because I never felt deeply enough to be hurt that it was ending. And then I got to Oxford and it happened again, with Gabrielle and Julian, so I stopped dating. It didn’t seem worth the hassle, when I wasn’t capable of the kind of love that meant something.’ He swallowed, and smiled. ‘Until you.’
‘So, not caring deeply enough isn’t . . . uh . . .’
‘Isn’t something I’ve spent even a second worrying about with you, Halley. Do you doubt it?’
She met his smile, at that. ‘I don’t. Though I’m envious you’ve got rid of your haunting fear that triggers insomnia.’
‘It was replaced by a new one,’ he said wryly. ‘Which is stupid and superstitious and I’ve already told you about — in an email after our abortive efforts to be reunited at Christmas.’
‘The thing about Halley’s comet being a once in a lifetime event? Because it’s only my name. Nothing will stop me coming to you, I promise.’
‘Logically, I know that.’
‘Like I know that Mom’s ultimately responsible for her own happiness,’ Halley said, yawning. ‘Which I can never quite believe, late at night...’
‘Exactly,’ he whispered, absorbing every detail of Halley’s face. Her eyes started to close. Then they sprang open. ‘Sleep,’ he breathed. ‘It’s fine.’ Her lids lowered again.
Please stay safe. Please come soon. Please don’t be once in my lifetime. He wasn’t sure if he was thinking it at her, or praying.
‘Please don’t be eaten by a mountain lion,’ he whispered, for good measure, before he clicked to end the call.
* * *
Text message from Henry to Halley:
Sleep tight, my love.
* * *
Tuesday, 21 January
Text messages between Halley and Henry:
I can’t believe you woke up in the middle of the night for me, and I fell asleep on you — so sorry!
Don’t give it another thought — concentrate on driving safely!
Always do! Stop worrying. You wanna know something?
Of course?
Right before I left, I told Angelie I’m starting to think I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you. Which I guess means you’re probably the love of my life, too. x
That makes me so happy, sweetheart. How you feel, and that you and Angelie are talking again. I’ll see you in six days! And please drive safely xxx
You’ll be asleep now, but I just arrived at motel #3 so it’s the last night on the road, woohoo!
* * *
Wednesday, 22 January
Henry
He opened the drinks cabinet and inspected the dusty bottles dubiously. ‘Move these to a kitchen cupboard, you reckon?’
Viola glanced over. ‘Hell, no. Empty them into the sink, then chuck them in the recycling bin. Dad said to get rid of everything we need to.’
‘Of everything we need to, to get the dining room set up as a bedroom. There are space for these in—’
‘He said anything can go, beyond some specific bits and bobs which I moved to the lounge before you got here.’ Viola was using the tone that brooked no argument. ‘Everything else we keep only makes it harder to downsize them once this place is sold. You know he’s backtracking already, now Mum’s turned the corner?’
‘Seriously?’ Henry paused with three bottles in each hand.
‘Yup. Saying a bungalow will be perfect for them, when yesterday he was assuring us he knows it’s time for sheltered accommodation.’
‘Could we help him find a bungalow within some sort of sheltered housing complex?’
‘Even so, the less stuff they have, the easier it’ll be — so we’re clearing this room out entirely.’
Henry wandered away to follow her instructions with the bottles. As Campari sloshed down the sink, he took the opportunity to check his phone, though Halley should still be asleep. There were no new messages, but he thumbed a quick one to her, requesting she let him know when she got to Chicago, however late.
When he returned to the dining room, Viola was removing glasses from the cupboard at the bottom of the drinks cabinet and rolling them in newspaper before setting them inside a cardboard box.
‘Didn’t they get those as wedding presents?’ he asked.
Her sigh was pure exasperation. ‘Only the Waterford tumblers, and I put those safely away already. The rest of it never gets used, so we’re packing this box in my car, and you’re dropping it off at the charity shop, along with the rug, the terrible painting and the pair of ceramic dogs, while I post photos of the furniture on Marketplace. Got a problem with that?’
‘ Nooo ,’ he said promptly, glancing at the box. ‘Can I have the wine glasses and champagne flutes though? I’ve been meaning to buy some before Halley gets here. She had to toast with a mug at Christmas.’
She shrugged. ‘Sure, if you take over packing them.’ When they’d switched places, she posed the chairs around the table ready for photographs. ‘So, Halley still arrives Monday evening?’
‘Of course. Unless her flight’s delayed, which knowing our luck it invariably will be.’
‘You’ve been quieter about her, lately . . .’
Ever since Halley informed him that her mother was gossiping with Viola, he’d felt uncomfortable mentioning his girlfriend at all, for fear of fuelling it. But he couldn’t address that when they were both raw from several days of teetering on the precipice of grief. So he made a noncommittal sound, and returned to wrapping glasses.
But he was aware that Viola’s gaze remained on him, and eventually she spoke again. ‘Also, when I came to think about it, I was a little surprised she didn’t fly over sooner, to support you, when... y’know...’
When we thought Mum would die from that massive stroke, he thought grimly. ‘That wasn’t an option. She was in the middle of literally packing her whole life up to relocate over here — via Chicago, where she’s speaking at a massive conference tomorrow.’
‘I mean... it was pretty much impossible for Aron,’ Viola said. ‘He’d just touched down in Reykjavik, when I told him. But he rushed back anyway.’
‘How long can he stay?’ Henry asked cautiously. His right hand was still recovering from the enthusiastic wrenching the giant considered a handshake.
‘At least a week. And on that... are you under pressure to rush back to work — I know term-time’s tricky?’
‘Thanks to that double teaching load last term, I’m pretty flexible at the moment.’ When he emailed Rupert to explain his absence he’d copied in Hogshoo for good order, and even that old grump hadn’t kicked up a fuss about a week’s compassionate leave. ‘Why don’t you make the most of it, and sneak off with Aron until Monday?’
She looked torn. ‘I’d worry about Mum.’
‘I’ll let you know if you’re needed, but you’ve got to pace yourself.’
‘I know. Fine — I’ll make myself scarce with Aron, then take over here once you go back to Oxford. I can get Aron shifting their bedroom furniture down the stairs.’
‘Excellent idea,’ Henry said.
Viola stepped over and hugged him. ‘You’re really OK if I step back this week? I’ll worry about you, too, without any support. I still don’t understand Halley not coming early — and yes, I know she’s got stuff on, but I can’t imagine anything stopping you from flying out to her, if the tables were turned.’
Henry hesitated. He didn’t want Viola to be offish with Halley when she arrived. And Halley Senior was on her digital-detox retreat, so Viola couldn’t snitch to her at present. ‘I haven’t exactly told Halley how serious it was, yet.’
‘ What ?’
‘I couldn’t risk upsetting her when she was on her road trip. And she’s got this huge presentation to get through. The morning after that, I’ll explain everything.’
Viola blinked. Then she blew out so heavily that a stray curl bounced. Finally, she folded her arms and regarded him like a recalcitrant schoolboy. ‘You’re going to be in so much trouble , little brother.’
* * *
Handwritten note from Mom:
SORRY NOT TO BE HERE TO GREET YOU, JUNIOR. HOPE THE PRESENTATION GOES WELL IN THE MORNING — I’LL BE THINKING OF YOU. AND CHECK OUT THE DEEPFREEZE — THERE’S PLENTY OF FOOD!
LOVE MOM
* * *
Text messages between Halley and Henry:
I made it to Chicago — tired but all in one piece! x
Thanks for letting me know, sweetheart! What are you up to this evening?
Quelling my nerves for tomorrow with pizza! I’ve ordered enough for a family of 4, despite passive-aggressive reminders from Mom to help myself to her batch cooking... she must be on a new health kick.
Maybe she’s left you something delicious? And it’s natural to be nervous about presenting, but for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen you unable to complete something you set out to do. Even that bloody drive. Sleep tight, and enjoy the pizza! xxx
Thanks, babe. And hey — ONLY FIVE DAYS!
* * *
Thursday, 23 January
Halley
Halley had demolished leftover pizza for breakfast, and it had given her a stomach ache. It wasn’t helpful, minutes away from presenting the work she’d dedicated five years of her life to. But her audience wouldn’t be huge, with under three hundred people currently streaming into the auditorium for the first talk of the day. She just needed to calm herself down before going out there, with deep breathing exercises and sips of cold water and—
‘Hailey?’ a woman with a clipboard called. ‘Hailey Hart?’
‘ Halley Hart? That’s me.’
‘You need to get miked up,’ the woman said, advancing on her with a battery pack and a tiny microphone. As Halley clipped it to her shirt, the woman ran though instructions. ‘This is how to switch it on, once you’re up there. Once you do, please don’t touch it, or it significantly affects sound quality for the remote delegates, and—’
‘Sorry — remote delegates?’
‘We get twice as many views for the livestream than attendances in person,’ the woman said. ‘Right, come this way... here’s the controls for your presentation. Good luck!’
Halley found herself thrust onto the stage, and numbly walking to the glass lectern. She’d pictured this moment, with every eye in the audience boring into her, and utter silence as she opened her mouth.
The reality was a hundred times worse.
Beneath the banner declaring The 27th International Conference on Developments in Astronomy & Cosmology , delegates were talking to each other, or reading. Many were still holding coffee cups, and some hadn’t bothered to take their seats yet.
The briefing document had stated that introductions wouldn’t be made on stage — except for the professor giving the keynote after lunch — so each speaker should take a moment to confirm her or his name and institution before they began their presentation. It hadn’t been stated that this would be necessary to gain the attention of the audience, who would otherwise ignore you. Then again, it also hadn’t been stated that the entire thing was broadcast live around the world.
She checked over her shoulder. Her name was displayed on the large screen at the back of the stage, and thankfully correctly spelled. It might stick in potential employer’s minds, if they happened to like her research. Though it was more likely, she thought, looking out over the sea of preoccupied people, that they wouldn’t notice her or her name either way.
She cleared her throat. The hum of voices continued, and no heads turned.
She remembered her microphone, and flicked the on switch.
‘Excuse me please.’ Her nerves had caused her vocal cords to tighten, so her voice came out at a higher pitch than usual. And she’d spoken too loudly.
Now , everyone was looking. Halley flicked her eyes away from the multitude of faces, frantically wondering how she could ever have dismissed nearly three hundred people as not many . She focused instead on a red blinking light at the rear of the auditorium, as she inhaled slowly, to steady her racing heart. Was it the fire alarm system or — no, it was the camera, indicating that filming had begun. Her pulse sped up again, as she imagined a multitude of people watching on their computers at work, their feet propped on their desks, wondering why there was a woman gulping on the big stage in front of her memorably unusual name. Suddenly, she wished very hard that the organizers had misspelled it.
Halley opened her mouth again, but her throat was like sandpaper. Henry had been so certain that she had this. She couldn’t imagine explaining how badly it had gone: especially since she may never be able to speak again. She imagined typing a description in an email... So I crashed and burned in front of representatives of every academic astronomy department in the world ... After that disclosure, there was no way on earth she could face him. Not in four days from now. But her flight was transferable, so she could delay for a week, to try and get over it...
She stopped herself mid-spiral. Delaying seeing Henry was unthinkable. Facing Henry when she’d screwed this up was impossible. The only other option was to somehow... get it done.
She resolutely ignored the upturned faces and the blinking red light, and conjured up Henry, in an empty seat on the front row. The image triggered a memory: Mom’s advice to keep from looking nervous — smile .
So she smiled. ‘I’m Halley Hart,’ she said, ‘And I’m a fifth year doctoral student at Stanford University, about to head to the UK as a visiting student, where I shall be writing up the data that I present to you, in brief, now. Let’s start with...’
* * *
Text messages between Halley and Henry:
It’s over. Rough start but I think it might have gone OK after that.
It was brilliant! You were brilliant! Don’t know what you mean about the start?
Wait, what?
You walked out, glanced around, called for attention, then smiled like you belonged up there before nailing your presentation. I was so proud of you!
Are you here???
Sweetheart, I was watching the livestream.
What? What if it was a disaster — you’d have just sat there and witnessed my humiliation?! And how did everyone know there was a livestream but me??
That was never going to happen, Halley. And, I don’t know... I read it on the website...
There’s a lot of people here... I think they’re waiting to talk to me.
So go and talk! And remember names, ready for when you start applications! Love you, and see you in four days xxx
Cannot wait! x
* * *
Halley
Halley was hemmed in by a press of people. Some of them wanted to speak to her, others merely to shake her hand, and others to collar one of the people waiting to speak to her. She scoured their lanyards for the names of their institutions, and identified someone from Trinity College, Dublin.
A woman in her forties shouldered through the crowd, ‘I’m in a hurry,’ she said vaguely, in lieu of an apology to those she was pushing past. ‘Halley — I liked your talk.’
‘Thank y—’
‘I liked it, but I didn’t love it,’ the woman said, as though clarification had been requested. ‘A new denoising algorithm always grabs my attention, but nine times out of ten it really isn’t novel at all, and the one time it is, the application’s massively limited. Yours really is novel, but I’m not sure you’ve given serious consideration to the applications.’
Halley’s eyes flew to the woman’s lanyard, which had twisted, so she could only see the blank side. But to be in attendance, this woman must be in academic astronomy, or a closely aligned field, so she tempered her instinct to give a cutting reply. ‘I’ve got the data to prove I’m not overstating my algorithm’s usefulness,’ she began.
‘Of course you have,’ the woman said. ‘On an ocular telescope at a light-sky site. All of which is pointless, since it’s dark sky sites where we do serious astronomy, and radio telescopes that suffer from the worst image noise. Yet you don’t even seem to have considered the application of your algorithm for us.’
‘I’m sorry, but you being . . . I can’t tell from your . . .’
The woman followed Halley’s gaze to the twisted lanyard on her chest, and unfurled it. ‘I head up this place,’ she said pointlessly, because Halley could now see it: Professor Helen Jansen, Department Chair — Astronomy & Astro-Engineering, above a logo for the university hosting the symposium. ‘And I’m on the organizing committee for this — I’ve had my eyes on you since your submission to present. I understand you’re local?’
‘I grew up in Chicago,’ Halley admitted, wondering if she could wriggle free to grab the guy from Ireland. ‘Before undergrad at Northwestern. Excuse me ple—’
The woman shot a hand out to pincer Halley’s upper arm. ‘Are your family still here? Interesting. Then five years in northern California and — why are you writing up in the UK?’
‘Personal reasons,’ Halley said. Realizing she sounded too standoffish, and the Irish guy could potentially hear, she rushed on. ‘It’s unrelated to my career, except that I’d like to work in Europe next.’
‘Well that’s no good,’ the woman said, with growing impatience. ‘And I’d urge you to come in to see us before you commit to anything. We’d probably meet any offer you’re considering.’
This conversation was like hacking through ice with a toothpick. ‘Offer... like, of employment ?’
‘Well I’d have to get you in front of our hiring committee first, but that’s only a formality. Halley, our new project’s the most significant my department’s ever run. If we can even slightly denoise the images quickly and relatively cheaply — which amounts to your salary, plus the cost of getting you out there — it has the potential to improve—’
‘Wait,’ Halley said. Something was ringing in her ears. ‘I’m really sorry to interrupt. But what project?’
The woman gestured at the conference programme in Halley’s hand. ‘You haven’t read that? No matter — you’ll hear the details during my keynote. My department’s got three years access to the new radio-telescope at Antarctica.’