Part Fourteen
Friday, 24 January
Henry
Henry pushed open the door, grimacing at the squeak of its hinges. But Mum was already awake, and propped up on pillows.
‘ Henry ,’ she said, and he relaxed a little. Awake and alert, unlike the day before, when she’d thought him a doctor, and told him wistfully that his eyes reminded her of her little boy’s. He’d managed to hold it together until he was back in his bedroom at their house, the door locked against intrusions.
‘I’ve brought your beau to visit you, Mum. He’ll be through in a minute.’
Her speech was slurred, but discernible. ‘He’s . . . slow since he got . . . that stick.’
Seating himself, Henry didn’t inform her how quickly Dad had scuttled through the corridor to catch up with her consultant, who he’d spied in the distance, calling back impatiently for Henry to tell his mother he was on his way.
There was a book on her over-bed table. ‘Would you like me to read to you?’
She nodded. ‘Chapter . . . three, please.’
As he read, he felt her eyes on him, until she closed them and raised her left hand off the sheets, tucking her thumb into her palm and arching her fingers, before beginning to lower her fingertips individually, as she mimicked pressing the strings on a violin.
He paused at the end of a section. ‘What are you playing, Mum?’
She opened her eyes immediately, but then they clouded. ‘I don’t... recall.’
Lambasting himself internally, he was pleased when Dad rapped sharply, then entered. He sketched a salute to his wife, who stared at him impassively, then lowered one eyelid in a heavy wink. Henry had witnessed this exchange thousands of times — generally with mystification, not recognizing it until adulthood as a private joke between them. Mum hadn’t ever yet forgotten the correct response, as far as he knew, and he dreaded the day it happened.
Henry rose, ceding the only chair to his father. ‘I’ll be back at the end of visiting hours,’ he murmured, aware as he slipped out of the room that his parents hadn’t even heard, already absorbed in each other’s company.
He switched his phone back on as he strode through the ward, but there was no reception until several minutes later. When he reached the hospital lobby, his handset buzzed. He scrolled through the alerts, speeding his pace before he’d even finished counting: he had seven missed video calls from Halley.
As he got to the car park, he slowed again, thinking hard. It was the middle of the night in Chicago, but Halley was safely at her mother’s home. And she was used to staying up all night. She was probably wired with the adrenaline of her presentation, or second-guessing it, and wanting a chat... Except... seven missed calls — it had to be something urgent.
He mused on options as he paid for parking, then unlocked Dad’s car and hopped in. Noting the multiple signs around the car park showing him to be at Basingstoke & North Hampshire Hospital, he pulled away. He’d park in a side street rather than alert Halley to the hospital this way. He’d provide her with a calm explanation at a perfectly appropriate time.
Unless... He groaned as he swung between the exit barriers. Somehow, Halley knew about Mum’s stroke? Had Viola blabbed? And maybe Halley’s mother’s retreat wasn’t as strict about removing phones this time.
He swore under his breath, then screeched to a halt an instant before running a red light. He considered getting in there first by telling Halley about his mum as soon as she answered, then discarded the idea. She wouldn’t fall for it, and anyway, he didn’t want to propagate his dishonesty further. He had to admit he’d kept the full extent of it from her, alongside assuring her that things were looking up now — Mum was making a decent recovery and Dad had agreed to downsize. And, without the massive distraction, Halley had executed her drive and her presentation.
And, next, she’d be executing him . Or worse, crying.
He turned left at the next street, but could only see resident parking. His phone buzzed with another incoming video call, so he manoeuvred into a space anyway, answering as he turned off the engine.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ he said, resting his phone on the dashboard and slipping on his glasses.
‘It’s OK. I don’t expect you to be constantly available to accept my calls. I should have waited.’ Her voice was thick with emotion and her face wan and streaked with tears, just as he’d feared. But her words weren’t at all as he’d expected. ‘I’ve got to tell you something really... really bad, and the longer I wait the more I hate myself for it.’
He shifted a little in the leather seat, reassessing. She didn’t know about the stroke, then. Which meant, once he’d calmed her down, he must gently confess about Mum.
‘What’s wrong, Halley?’
‘After...’ she sniffed. ‘After my presentation—’ She broke off and buried her face in her hands.
‘Your presentation went well,’ he said. ‘I watched it, remember?’ Perhaps an error had been brought to her attention, or—
‘It went too well,’ she choked. ‘I’ve been offered a job. With a three year contract.’
‘But that’s...’ Henry bit back fantastic. Halley was crying about a job offer, which meant it wasn’t the kind of job she wanted. Or, more likely, not in the location she wanted. ‘Presumably... not in Europe?’
Mute, she shook her head.
‘Is it in academic astronomy?’
She inclined her chin slightly. ‘This woman introduced herself after my presentation yesterday, and she wants my algorithm for a new telescope in Antarctica—’
‘It’s a job in Antarctica ?’
‘Partly — but mainly Chicago. I was so flattered I agreed to visit her department after her keynote — I should have told you first but I really thought I’d be able to see it then reject them...’ Her tears had intensified, warping her voice so much that he could barely understand her. ‘She had me meet the hiring committee right away...’
He made soothing sounds until she calmed down. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he then said, ‘I’d really appreciate you starting from the beginning.’
She made a few false starts before she got going, pausing occasionally to dart looks at him before averting her eyes again, as she divulged the details. It wasn’t difficult to keep his face serene — aware of the distinct possibility that she wouldn’t get an enticing job in the UK, he’d focused instead on their imminent half-year together. If she wanted this job — and she was so wracked with guilt that presumably she did — then when she was awarded her Ph.D. and moved to Chicago to take it up, he’d find a way to go with her. He thought about Mum and Dad uneasily. Or travel to see her regularly. Or something.
When she got to the end and halted, he smiled at her. ‘I always knew you were brilliant, Halley. Congratulations on the offer. Have you accepted already?’
‘I wouldn’t do that without speaking to you!’
‘Oh Halley, I know you wanted to find something over here, but there were never any guarantees, and at least we get to be together until the summer. The dilemma of the longer term can wait—’
All colour had drained from her face. ‘But it’s not... Henry, it’s not an offer for the fall. It’s for now. Like, immediately now. They insist I write up here in Chicago, so we can start preparing my algorithm for Antarctica.’
Henry went numb. His hands had seized the steering wheel, and were gripping it so tightly his knuckles had blanched to the colour of bone. But he couldn’t feel them, or take back control of his muscles and tendons. ‘I don’t... I don’t understand.’
‘I think Professor Jansen would have wanted me to leave for Antarctica right away and winter-over, if she’d met me a little earlier. But as it is I’ll go in late August, when planes can get in and out, and stay for a few months of the summer season. Since it’s the southern hemisphere, the seasons are the opposite to ours.’
‘Halley,’ he said unsteadily. ‘You’re not coming to England on Monday?’
She licked her lips. ‘I mean,’ she said, ‘I am if I turn the job down.’
Their eyes met, and he read the same turmoil that he felt.
‘Can you negotiate? Say you’re busy until, say, May?’
‘Already tried.’ She scrubbed her face. ‘I went back a month at a time, but she kept replying unfortunately, that doesn’t work for us . Then I said I had a vacation booked, so the soonest I could return to Chicago is the last week in February. She said absolutely not , and bumped the salary by six thousand bucks.’
Henry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘They want you badly.’ He gathered himself, and forced his mouth to turn up. ‘Chicago’s closer than California. And six thousand dollars pays for a return flight to England at least every other month.’
She didn’t seem to be listening. ‘I’ve been thinking of calling their bluff. Like, turn them down now and fly to you, keeping my fingers crossed that they’ll renegotiate afterwards.’ Her voice faltered. ‘The problem comes if they won’t, and I never get another opportunity like it. But then I wonder how I can even consider the job, with how much I love you and want to be with you.’
His eyes were stinging, but he knew what he had to say. ‘I love you and want to be with you too, Halley. But we agreed on compromise, not sacrifice.’
‘There isn’t a compromise here. Only two different sacrifices! And I have no idea how to decide.’
Silence fell, and Henry’s stomach plummeted with it. He couldn’t think of a compromise, either. ‘Have you considered the pros and cons?’ he asked eventually, since something had to be said.
She scrubbed her face with both hands. ‘If I reject the job, we’ll be together. If I take it, we won’t.’
‘ But . . .’ he said, with insistence.
‘ But , I’d be earning immediately, rather than waiting until at least the fall, so I can rebuild my savings, and make rent in Stanford without a problem. And it’s a great department, and headed up by a woman — that’s still rare in astronomy.’ She was touching her right index finger to each digit on her left hand, counting as she listed. It reminded him of Mum’s habit of silently fingering an air violin, which she hadn’t played in public since marrying Dad. ‘And finally, I’ll get to upgrade a telescope in Antarctica, which not only fulfils one of my biggest ambitions, but adds a lot of prestige to my résumé.’ She tapped her ring finger several more times. ‘That’s all I can think of,’ she said, sounding brighter. ‘There’s only three reasons to accept it.’
Henry reckoned it was more like five. But either way, there was only one reason for her to turn it down. And he’d never live with himself if she did so and her career never got off the ground. Then again, he also wasn’t sure how he’d live without her. He clamped his teeth against verbalizing any of it. He refused to sway her. Including, he realized with a sinking feeling, by telling her about Mum. He didn’t know if she’d instantly turn down the job and fly over, or take offence that he hadn’t confided in her sooner, and accept the job without further thought. Maybe it wouldn’t make any difference either way. But he wouldn’t risk it.
‘How long do you have to decide?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve asked for the weekend. So I guess by Monday I need to―’ a muscle in her jaw flinched ― ‘sign the contract, or get on the plane, or... like, delay my flight and beg them — and you — for a little more time. I’ve requested they don’t contact me further after sending the contract through. I don’t want them talking me into it.’
He steeled himself. ‘Taking some time without outside influences makes sense. I think... I think it’s best if I give you some space too.’
She opened her mouth, and he thought he’d hear an objection, but then her shoulders slumped. ‘Maybe you’re right. But only if you promise you won’t go nuts in the meantime?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he lied steadily.
‘No quitting your job? You can’t make this sacrifice to prevent me needing to.’
He raised his hands in surrender. Or maybe defeat. ‘I promise I won’t leave my job.’ It was true, since it would do no good if he did — he couldn’t move to America right now, anyway.
* * *
Saturday, 25 January
Voice note from Henry to Viola:
Hey Viola, quick update. Mum’s vague today but was on good form yesterday. Also... uh... Halley has a situation going on. It’s prevented me telling her about everything with Mum, but I honestly will as soon as I can, so please don’t mention anything if you happen to hear from anyone she knows. I mean it, Vi — we need some privacy. OK, bye — and say hullo to Aron for me.
* * *
Halley
She stared at the sheets of paper. The ink was slightly blurred from Mom’s crappy printer, but the terms remained stark.
Ms Halley Hart was offered the role of salaried Research Associate while she wrote up her doctoral thesis, in return for full-time attendance at the department, to begin within days . As soon as Stanford confirmed the award of her Ph.D., Dr Halley Hart would be promoted to Senior Research Associate and her salary raised further. They additionally proposed a fully-funded summer season in Antarctica, to enable the upgrade of the new radio-telescope.
She’d placed a lidded case beside the contract, inside which was the fountain pen she’d received as a graduation gift from Aunt Edie. Its barrel was well-balanced, and engraved with her name, and the nib pleasingly smooth. She didn’t even want to open it.
Halley pressed her palms against the orbits of her eyes, as if she could hold back the agony of indecision. If only it was a head versus heart dilemma. Following her heart, where Henry was concerned, had always been easy. But it was more like her heart itself was split in two. Half of it inhabited teenage Halley, who was whooping and hollering at the fulfilment of her biggest ambition. The other half belonged to the woman who was exclusively and officially dating Henry Inglis, and she was sobbing a protest.
* * *
Sunday, 26 January
Voice note from Viola to Henry:
I appreciate the update, Henry. But I don’t know why you think I’d hear from anyone Halley knows. And what was that cryptic thing about ‘a situation’ for Halley? If you mean she’s got PMT, just say so. It’s much worse for her than it is awkward for you. As for privacy, I’ve only told Aron about you keeping quiet about Mum’s stroke. We’ll be back first thing tomorrow, by the way, which is just as well because you sound exhausted.
* * *
Halley
Two and a half days with no contact from Henry, and she was desperate to speak to him. Instead, she scrolled rapidly through his emails, her eyes skimming the screen, not daring to read in any detail. His kisses brought a smile to her face even now, when she wanted to scratch her skin off in frustration at her predicament.
She should sign the contract and upgrade an Antarctic deep-sky telescope with her algorithm without a second thought. It was an achievement that would always be hers alone, separate from the successes of her namesake ancestor. It might even inspire little girls to learn to stargaze. But if she did so, she couldn’t add her final few essentials to the suitcases beside the front door, and set out in the morning to spend six months with Henry. Who called her the love of his life, and who was almost certainly also hers.
Both. She wanted both.
Everyone who said that only children grew into selfish adults must be right, after all.
Her laptop chimed, and she glanced at it sharply. It was yet another email from her potential department. They’d taken little notice of her plea for a weekend without contact, and the subject lines had proved too enticing to ignore.
Women in Space-Science support group — weekly brunches.
Preparations for Antarctica, please see document attached.
Benefits package, pension plan & perks for H. Hart
The new one invited her to a lecture about the James Webb Space Telescope by a visiting speaker from Nasa, the following week. And to join Professor Jansen and the Nasa astronomer for lunch afterwards. It ended in the same way as all the others — with an assurance that the whole team were hoping to be working with her soon...
Recalled to herself when her stomach grumbled, she slammed her laptop shut. She didn’t feel hungry, but couldn’t recall eating anything since candy in bed the night before. She considered investigating whatever Mom had left her in the deepfreeze, but rejected it in favour of ordering an Italian beef sandwich from her favourite place, that used capers in the giardiniera. If anything could stimulate her appetite, it was that.
And maybe with some calories, her brain would engage properly, and cast a goddamn deciding vote between the warring halves of her heart.
* * *
From: Halley Hart
Subject: Delaying flight (I’m sorry) (I love you)
To: Henry Inglis
Dear Henry,
I love you, and I want to be with you. I need to say that upfront.
But I used to believe that I want to be with you more than anything... and that changed the moment I was offered a professional opportunity I’d never dreamed nor imagined could be mine.
The real truth is: I want to be with you now (and for six months) (and probably for a lifetime), and I want the job (and a salary) (and especially, to go upgrade a telescope in Antarctica). But getting all of that is impossible.
If I reject the job, we’ll be together, and hopefully I’ll get another job, given enough time. Is that fair on me ? Is that fair on you ?
If I take the job, we’ll be apart, aside from short visits, for at least three years. Is that enough for you ? Is it enough for me ?
All this is to say, I’m going out of my mind with this decision, so have delayed my answer — and my flight — until Wednesday. Professor Jansen won’t allow me any longer.
I appreciate you offering me space, Henry. I just need a little more of it. And I love you and miss you and am truly very sorry.
Your Halley x
* * *
Monday, 27 January
Henry
Viola would have taken one look at him, and forced him to explain what was wrong. Admitting that Halley had delayed would be unbearable, as would be the pity in his sister’s eyes. So he’d avoided her entirely by informing Dad of a 9 a.m. meeting at St Jude’s and setting out by train an hour before she and Aron were due.
Since the meeting was entirely fictitious, when he got to St Jude’s he showed his face in the SCR, to ensure Geoffrey Hogshaw noticed he was back, before heading to the library. But the librarian who stored his archive box was engaged with a tearful student, and Henry abruptly turned and left. He couldn’t face Lawrence Sedgwick today, anyway.
Instead he found himself striding along Oxford’s high street, until he reached Queen’s Lane which led into New College Lane. He didn’t pause until he reached Edmond Halley’s House, where he buffed the stone plaque with his coat sleeve. With a final glance at the golden comet depicted there, he resumed his walk, passing under the Bridge of Sighs. He only recognized his territorial instinct to reverse-trace the route of his tour with Halley as he cut down the side of the Bod into Radcliffe Square. There he stood on the cobbles, at the place where he’d seen his Halley for the second time.
And then his phone buzzed. He wrestled it from his pocket: incoming call, from an international number he didn’t recognize. His pulse sped — surely it was Halley, from her mom’s house.
‘Halley?’
‘Henry — you’re alive! Which means you purposely never got back to me about my podcast...’
Not Halley, but Halley-Anne. His shoulders slumped. ‘I . . . uh . . . sorry about that.’
‘Have you even talked to your Halley about whether she’s up for coming on as a guest? Or can I at least put her name out there by sharing your email? Tell her my first three episodes went really well, and that the episode title for your one will be H(e)artless, with the e in brackets, so it’s a pun on our surname, get it? Oh, and tell her to check out my ratings and reviews — and someone even said...’
There was nowhere to sit, but his legs were unsteady, and he bent instead, resting a hand on his leg as Halley-Anne raced on with anecdotes about her prior guests. It seemed an age before she ran out of steam. ‘Henry? If the man’s hung up I’ll —’
‘Still here,’ he managed. ‘Um... I had been discussing your podcast with Halley.’ There was no point revealing that she’d asked him to give Halley-Anne her number. That was far from appropriate at this point. ‘But things are... in a state of flux right now.’
‘ Craaaaap . . . you broke up . . .’
‘No!’ He gulped in a fortifying breath. Suddenly, explaining what was happening was no longer the worst thing in the world. It needed to be said, and quickly, to wipe away Halley-Anne’s assumption. ‘ No . But she’s unexpectedly been offered a... life-changing career boost, in America, right as she was about to come here for six months. She can’t do both.’
‘Do you want her to pursue the career thing, or come over as planned?’
‘I... don’t want her to sacrifice the opportunity, and I want her here.’
‘And what does she want?’
‘Funnily enough, exactly the same.’ He hadn’t been surprised that Halley’s email had expressed an identical reasoning to the one he felt. The only difference was that he could sincerely say that he wanted to be with her more than anything — but that was worthless, since it didn’t release him from the ties that prevented him moving over there.
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I have no idea.’ He almost left it there. But now he’d started to talk, he couldn’t stop. ‘If every attempt to reunite hadn’t ended in disaster, I think she’d—’
‘Hang on — every attempt to reunite ? You haven’t seen each other since September?’
‘Not... properly. It’s been one mix-up after another. And now this... opportunity, from a source whose idea of negotiation is chucking more money at her, and who’ll only allow her until Wednesday to decide. I don’t know how she’ll do it.’
He’d been speaking to himself, more than Halley-Anne, so he flinched when she whistled. ‘Let me get this right... you haven’t been together to confirm that whatever’s between you actually exists? And then you’ve left her to make this massive decision totally on her own?’
‘She asked for space and I’m respecting that.’
‘Did she really?’ Halley-Anne sounded doubtful in the extreme. When he didn’t reply, she laughed. ‘You suggested it, then? Jeez, I thought professors were meant to be clever! You told her she needs space to decide, then basically ignored her. But the other side won’t be — you said yourself, they’re even countering with more money — just as she feels like you’ve abandoned her.’
Henry considered that. ‘You really think so?’
‘Yes! Jump on a plane to show her how much you love her, you galah! I need you two together, or the pod episode won’t be nearly so heart-warming!’
* * *
Voice note from Viola for Henry:
Henry, nothing to worry about — Mum’s all right. Sorry to miss you this morning — Dad said you had some urgent meeting at College. Are you in trouble for the week off or something? Otherwise, I don’t get why you didn’t reschedule, so you could take my car back as planned. How will you pick up Halley later? And by the way, you forgot your new wine glasses, too. Have fun drinking champagne out of mugs!
* * *
Henry
With Halley-Anne’s admonishments ringing in his skull, he thought hard as he meandered to the Blue Moon. He’d been convinced for a long time that Halley was it for him — looking back, he’d had some instinct about it even on the day they met. But she’d seemed to need to be reunited first, to be certain. That had never offended him, but he should have considered it, before suggesting leaving her alone to make such a momentous decision. And it had weighed on him that he hadn’t told her about Mum’s stroke. He’d feared it would influence her into turning the job down for the wrong reasons. But that betrayed a lack of trust in Halley’s ability to weigh the evidence and come to whatever was the correct conclusion for her.
Arriving at his houseboat he booked a flight to Chicago departing early evening, paused only to throw a change of clothes, his laptop and passport in a bag, then locked up again before heading for the bus station.
By the time he alighted at Heathrow, he was second-guessing his impulse. Halley hadn’t needed her arm twisted to accept the space to make her decision. She’d even thanked him for it, in her email. What if that meant he’d turn up and find his presence unwelcome? Well then, he thought grimly, at least that would make obvious the decision she should take. There was also their new year’s resolution to consider. They’d sworn to give each other a head’s up before hopping on a plane again, to workshop the logistics, as Halley had put it.
He reached the airport concourse. It was significantly less busy than when he’d last headed to America to surprise Halley, on Christmas Eve — or when he’d returned, a few days later, and their twelve hours together had drained down to zero. If he’d paused to tell her his plan before embarking on that journey, he’d have heard that she’d just arrived in England, and they’d have spent Christmas together in Oxford. That settled it, and he skirted the entrance of security screening in favour of a row of empty seats a short distance away, put on his glasses and pulled out his phone.
* * *
Text messages between Henry and Halley:
Thanks for your email yesterday. I love and miss you too, sweetheart. I know I urged you to take some space, but I think I was wrong. And there’s something else it’s essential I let you know. If you’re awake, I’d appreciate a brief chat? xxx
If it’s that your mom nearly died, don’t bother. My mom told me an hour ago, when she called to say she’s extended her retreat. I guess I’m literally the last person to know. I won’t offer you the same disrespect: you’re the first I’m telling that I signed the contract.