Part Fifteen
Halley
The alert for an incoming video call appeared on her laptop so soon after she’d sent the text that she wondered if Henry had even received it yet. She was disabused of the notion within an instant of answering.
‘Halley, I’m so—’
She cut in. ‘I don’t want to hear it. Just, tell me about your mom. Everything.’
He began with a voice note from his sister, which he remembered almost word-for-word, before recounting his hurried journey, and then a precis of each day, in short, clipped sentences. A witness might think he was the one who was angry with her, but she knew Henry, and this was—
She didn’t know Henry, though. Not as well as she’d thought.
He came to a close after affirming that his mother’s prognosis was now decent.
‘Are you pissed at me?’ Halley blurted.
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Why would you even—’ It seemed to take a palpable effort for him to break off the retort. ‘No, Halley. I’m angry at myself.’
‘I’m angry at you too. But I’m glad your mom pulled through.’
He nodded briefly. ‘I know.’ He didn’t clarify which of her statements he was replying to. He was wearing earbuds and his reading glasses, which meant he’d called on his phone from someplace with background noise. And he was holding it in portrait, and close to his face, so she could only see him, and nothing of his location.
‘Are you in public, Henry? We need privacy for this.’
‘I’m... I can’t be overheard,’ he said. ‘Can I ask you one thing about the contract? I’m not attempting to talk you out of your decision. Not at all. But I’m wondering if you’d already signed it, before you heard about Mum.’
She compressed her lips. ‘No. After.’
He closed his eyes, and it was a few seconds before he reopened them. God, he had such pretty eyes. Even now, when they were so sad.
‘For what it’s worth,’ he said, as tonelessly as she’d ever heard him, ‘I was going to tell you at the first opportunity after your presentation.’
Halley sought to regulate her breathing. She’d figured it all out, after Mom’s surprise call, asking sharply if Halley was at the airport as planned, or had gone to the UK early. When she’d confusedly asked what Mom meant, Mom had sighed. You should have told me right before I left, Junior. Ischemic strokes are a bitch — I’d have advised you to get there quick-smart. As it is, Mrs Inglis got very lucky. Speechless, Halley had stammered something, and Mom had assumed she was boarding the airplane, wished her a less tumultuous journey to Oxford than last time, and hung up.
‘You were going to tell me five days after she had a stroke?’
‘I...’ he looked wretched. ‘I texted you about it within an hour of arriving at the hospital. But then I had to turn my phone off, so missed that it failed to send until you called the next day. By then, you’d embarked on the road trip, and I didn’t want to distract you.’
‘Distract me,’ she repeated, breathing harder. ‘You thought your mom was dying — I needed to be distracted from my stupid drive so I could turn my car around!’ Now her volume had risen, it was impossible to regain control. ‘I’d have left everything back at my apartment and taken the next flight to England to support you.’
His slanted eyes were as wide as she’d ever seen them — like he was witnessing a UFO. ‘But the symposium was—’
‘You mattered more than that! Don’t you get it? Wouldn’t you have gotten the next plane if my mom was in a coma?’
He stared at her, then dropped his head, releasing a muffled groan. ‘Nothing would have stopped me. Yet I stopped you, by not telling you. I get why that galvanized you into signing the contract.’ He glanced up again, with a tight smile that nevertheless reached his eyes. ‘Congratulations. You deserve it, and they’re lucky to have you.’
All the anger drained out of her. ‘Thanks, I guess.’
His smile remained. ‘Look...’ He stretched out his arm, or leaned back, because his head was taking up less and less of the screen. ‘I said I had something to tell you? I’m at Heathrow. I’m coming to... well it was going to be to tell you about Mum, and support you through your decision. Now it’ll be so you can be mad at me in person.’
‘Don’t joke.’ She was shaking so hard she feared for a second that she might be having a seizure. ‘Coming here’s... not a good plan. And before you say it, I know you won’t try to talk me out of taking the job. It’s too late for that anyway,’ she added, more because she needed the reminder, than for his benefit.
‘Halley,’ he said steadily. ‘We haven’t been together for over four months, and we’re facing three more years of a sizeable geographic distance. We need to sit in the same room and discuss what that looks like. And if parting again is unbearable, we need to know that too, so I can think of a way—’
‘You can’t leave the UK — your family needs you! And even if you could, I won’t let you give up your job for me.’ Not when I’ve given you up for a job. She had a suspicion he could read on her face what she was leaving unsaid, so plunged on. ‘I don’t want you to come. It would only... make all this harder.’
He was so still that she thought he had perhaps even stopped breathing. ‘Make what harder, Halley?’
Her face contorted with the threat of a sob, and she turned away, shuddering. Signing the contract had seemed the hardest thing she’d had to do in her entire life, but this entirely eclipsed it. ‘Our... status...’
‘Don’t say it,’ he said, as hoarse as she’d ever heard him. ‘Not like this.’
‘I have to.’ Halley’s voice rang hollow in her ears. That didn’t feel incorrect: she had a curious sense that she’d hollowed herself out with this decision, in the hour between Mom’s call and this one. ‘We have to end it.’
‘Not on a fucking video call!’
She was unaccustomed to hearing Henry curse, but it was the harshness of his tone that made her flinch.
‘Halley,’ he said, looking aghast. ‘I’m... Halley, after everything, we can’t do it like this. Tell me once I arrive, and I’ll... I’ll accept it, but I can’t bear it to end before I even see you again.’
‘But if we see each other first, it prolongs the...’ Her throat caught on the word pain . Voicing it would trigger her tears, and that would be worse for both of them. ‘Prolongs this whole thing. I-don’t-want-you-to-come.’
‘And you do want us to... break up.’ It wasn’t quite a question, but it also wasn’t not a question.
And she owed him the answer, but her throat was a desert, and her tongue repeatedly stuck to the roof of her mouth. She grabbed her water bottle and swallowed. ‘If I could have this professional opportunity and you, then... maybe it would be different. But I can’t spend another three years like the past four months — continually torn between my life, and work, and friends — and you. Not if I want to make a success of my career, and rebuild a life in Chicago, and travel to Antarctica for months on end.’
She’d gone over and over it in her mind. Her feelings for Henry had almost made her sacrifice everything else, and that wasn’t her. End it now, and she’d get over him someday. He’d get over her even sooner. The signs that he didn’t need her as much as he claimed were already there.
‘You’re the love of my life,’ he said, in a voice that wasn’t his.
‘You just think that,’ she said dully. ‘If I was, you’d have wanted — needed — me with you, when you thought your mom was dying.’
It was Henry’s turn to flinch. ‘I did, but I wanted you safe, more,’ he said eventually, his eyes unbearably damp. ‘Swee— Halley , you’re really certain this is what you want?’
She hugged herself, her nails cutting crescents into the flesh of her upper arms. ‘I am. And I have to go now.’
She couldn’t entirely avoid sight of the screen, as she slammed her laptop shut. Henry’s face was caving in on itself.
* * *
Tuesday, 28 January
From: Halley Hart
Subject: About the apartment
To: Angelie Lamdagan
Dear Angelie,
My situation has changed and I’ve accepted a job here in Chicago. I don’t want to go into the whole thing, but basically they want me here to write up, starting immediately. I’ll be getting paid, so will have no problem with rent x2, and you can stop looking for a new roommate.
Halley
P.S. Please don’t ask questions. I just can’t.
* * *
From: Angelie Lamdagan
Subject: About the apartment
To: Halley Hart
I don’t get it, Buddha.
And I don’t know whether to congratulate you or say oh shit .
And I can’t figure out what caused everything to change like that and what’s going on with you and Henry.
You better not have done this out of guilt about the apartment!
There, no questions.
Answer your phone! I’ve tried, like five times.
Angelie
* * *
Wednesday, 29 January
To: Viola Inglis
Subject: Question
From: Angelie Lamdagan
Hey Viola,
I don’t know if you’ll remember me. We ‘met’ on a vid-chat a few months ago, via your brother, Henry, and my friend, Halley? I searched up your email address because I’m worried about Halley.
She contacted me yesterday to say she’s in Chicago, not Oxford, and has a new job there. She wouldn’t say more, didn’t mention Henry, and hasn’t answered any of my replies. Or her mobile. Or her mom’s landline.
I was pissed at her for weeks about moving to England, so I guess I can’t blame her for ignoring me now. But the guilt’s killing me. She was so happy and excited a week ago! Do you happen to know if she and Henry are still together? If she broke up with him because of the dumb shit I said, or the pressure of making rent here or something, I need to put it right.
Best, Angelie
* * *
Thursday, 30 January
To: Angelie Lamdagan
Subject: Question
From: Viola Inglis
Dear Angelie,
Are you saying Halley isn’t in England? I had no idea! I’d assumed the two of them were holed up together on Henry’s boat.
Now I think about it, his behaviour on Monday morning was slightly odd. And he hasn’t checked in for updates, however briefly, on a family matter — but I shouldn’t say any more about that. I remember you well, and it’s not that I mind you getting in touch — absolutely not — but lately Henry’s had a bee in his bonnet about privacy.
I’d better not approach this all-guns-blazing, but I’ll gently check-in with him, and let you know once I succeed. If you’re able to do the same about any contact with Halley, that would be super.
Warmest, Viola x
* * *
Friday, 31 January
Voice note from Viola to Henry:
Can you give me a call, Henry? Nothing to stress about, just want to update you on the parental s .
* * *
Henry
Nothing helped. But people made it worse, and spare time, and talking. So he’d taken to running, as far and fast as he could through Oxford. Unfortunately, a storm cut short his evening run, and he returned to college, refusing to go aboard the Blue Moon until he was exhausted and yawning. Then he could trust himself to dash in and out of the shower room, averting his eyes from the bookshelves, before crawling onto the sofa bed to sleep. He hadn’t ventured into the bedroom all week: she’d slept there.
He shook his head, hard, denying his brain the stream of consciousness it sought, and resumed his desultory search for a book offering the necessary level of absorption. Gale force winds howled outside, rattling the glass in the dormer window in his office.
Though... that was a particularly loud rattle... And it echoed in from further along his slanted ceiling than the window. Henry switched off his desk lamp, then eased open the casement, gasping at the sting of the wind and rain on his face. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a figure hauling something along the pitch of the roof.
Henry hesitated for a split second, then moved to grab his phone. Hurtling out to the stairs, he pressed the bursar’s contact.
It went to voicemail, so he rapidly tried the porter’s lodge instead.
‘Henry Inglis here — our climber’s back...’ he panted, taking the stairs three at a time. ‘Yes, in this weather. I don’t think he clocked that he’s been seen — his back was to me. And he’s slower than last time, distracted by something bulky. I’m sprinting around to where he exited before — can you circle to the other quad in case he takes a different route?’
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he burst through the exit door into the rain, then darted to a vantage point in the shadows beneath a tree. The moon and stars were obliterated by clouds, so he could see nothing of vast swathes of the roof as he craned upwards. Nonetheless, he stood, silent and watchful, his eyes flicking between any windows that were alive with electric light.
After a few minutes, one of the lit casements was opened from the inside. Henry raised his phone, zooming in to record. He missed the person on the inside, who stepped back, before the figure slid in, pulling what appeared to be a sack.
Henry debated directing the porter to visit the room in question. But he wouldn’t know precisely which one it was until he’d checked a plan, and he was certain it wasn’t an unwelcome visit — the occupier had clearly opened the window for the climber. Besides, it was too risky to block the corridor and panic the idiots into hopping back out of the window and slipping to their deaths.
Without even a coat, Henry’s teeth chattered and his fingers grew numb. He ended the recording and put his phone in the pocket of his joggers, then blew on his hands, his gaze never wavering from the window.
Then light spilled out of a door, and his eyes plunged down. It was a tall, thin figure, whose clothes were sopping wet, and his hair plastered to his face. The climber, who must have exited the room through the internal staircase. Henry froze as he loped away across the sacrosanct grass in the centre of the quad. He had no need to follow. Unfortunately, Henry recognized the climber.
* * *
Saturday, 1 February
Halley
She’d emptied the pantry of snacks. And the refrigerator. And the emergency-candy cupboard. Continuing to eat her feelings would involve leaving Mom’s house. Or switching her phone on, to order online — but that was untenable with so many texts springing up from Angelie, some of them even mentioning... him by name.
The grocery store, then. She could get her boots and coat on and leave for the first time since Professor Jansen said she needn’t start at the department until Monday. Ever since, she’d got used to dulling the waves of pain with sugar, motivation for anything else having drained away.
She made for the deepfreeze instead. She hadn’t investigated it before, anticipating only Mom’s healthy batch cooking. But maybe in the frosty depths she’d find a half-tub of ice-cream, leftover from the summer. She swung up the lid, revealing disposable foil containers with cardboard tops. But Mom froze things in Tupperware, she thought idly, reading a neat label.
Lasagne, love Henry.
Something stabbed her in the heart as she pulled out another.
Chocolate cheesecake, love Henry.
She grabbed the rest and sank onto the kitchen tiles. Chicken Parmigiana. Sticky toffee pudding. Veggie chilli salad!
Love Henry. Love Henry. Love Henry.
She buried her head in her hands and wept, not heeding the distant noise from the hallway.
‘Junior,’ Mom called. ‘I’m home! Where you at?’
Attempting to answer made her cry harder, so she waited for Mom to discover her, and gather her into her arms.
* * *
Sunday, 2 February
Voice note from Viola to Henry:
Hey little brother. The needs assessment is upcoming for whether Mum can come home. We need to catch up about that pretty urgently, so please call me today!
* * *
Henry
The knock on his office door was so faint he almost missed it.
‘Come in,’ he called.
The door swung open. Dexter looked as nervous as ever — but not shit-scared, like he should.
‘You wanted to see me?’
Henry nodded at the chair he’d placed on the far side of the small room, limiting options for escape from the door — and the window. ‘Sit down.’ Once his instruction had been followed, he pinned the student with his eyes. ‘Why have you been climbing into your girlfriend’s bedroom?’
Mr Exactly’s jaw all but unhinged.
‘Is it something voyeuristic? A bet? A stupid attempt to impress her?’
The boy clamped his mouth shut.
‘As yet, I haven’t reported the matter,’ Henry said. ‘I’m prepared to hear the explanation before I decide whether I have to — and I may well have to.’ He didn’t add that Rupert’s entreaty for him to keep an eye out for the undergraduate historians, and his own guilt that he hadn’t managed to — even after his hackles were raised by them both remaining for Christmas — meant he’d really rather not report them for the potentially expellable offence. But he couldn’t overlook something so dangerous.
‘I... can’t say,’ the boy said. He looked like he was going to cry, and suddenly much younger. ‘I promised.’
Henry stood up. ‘Then I’ll ask her.’
As a bluff, it failed — but it wasn’t only a bluff, and he made his way down one staircase before skirting a small section of the quad, with Dexter at his heels as he re-entered the next staircase along, and sped up it.
‘Wait,’ Dexter said, as they reached the top. ‘Let’s go back, and I’ll tell you.’
Henry clenched his teeth. He was here, now, and there were no guarantees he’d get the truth. So he turned and rapped. There was no reply.
‘I’ve got your boyfriend here,’ he called. ‘Unless you let me in, I’m taking him directly to the Dean, and returning with the spare key.’
‘Coming,’ Olivia called back. ‘It’s just . . . I’m in the shower . . . Let me get dressed.’
Henry glanced at his phone. ‘You have thirty seconds.’
Dexter slumped against the wall, his hands tight in his floppy hair.
‘Three... two...’ Henry called. The door sprang open. Olivia had a dressing gown tightly belted around her, but her hair was dry. He marched in, glancing around. ‘Sit on the bed, both of you.’
‘And you should sit on the desk chair,’ Olivia squeaked. ‘And... err... sorry for the mess.’
There was a mess, but not the usual student detritus of clothes and books and food wrappers. Instead, her belongings were organized, and rubbish was in the bin. She’d even separated her recycling. But there was a distinct whiff of something that he couldn’t identify, a bucket of fresh vegetables on her desk, and stubby pieces of straw all over the carpet.
Straw had been found on this staircase the previous term. Students had been warned of mandatory room-checks by the housekeeping team, if it continued to be strewn around.
There was another squeaking sound. He looked sharply at the pair on the bed, but it had come from behind him. He spun, reaching the en-suite shower room an instant before the students could succeed in their attempt to block his way. He tore open the shower curtain. And saw a pig in a pink collar.
‘I bought her the first week of term, when the Ox-pressure was starting to get to me,’ Olivia wailed. ‘She’s my emotional support animal.’
Henry tried to process that. He supposed it would be unkind to ask how the emotional support was working out for her.
‘She was tiny back then — the breeder promised she was a teacup-pig!’
‘The breeder lied,’ Henry said, eyeing the creature, which was hairy, and already the size of a cocker spaniel.
‘Yeah. Persephone kept growing and growing, so now we can’t even sneak her out for exercise anymore. And I can’t find anywhere to rehome her where she won’t be slaughtered for bacon!’ She burst into tears, and Dexter wrapped her in his arms.
Henry moved his eyes away, blinking. Persephone. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was seized with the impulse to smile, and fought to keep his face stern. ‘This is the only reason you were climbing, Dexter? Sneaking in straw?’
‘Exactly,’ he said.
‘And other supplies,’ Olivia said, sniffing. ‘And taking out her dung, when it backed up the drains. He wasn’t climbing for the fun of it.’
‘Right,’ Henry said, making a snap judgement. It made his already unpleasant week significantly worse, since it involved someone he’d been studiously avoiding. ‘I suppose it... er... Persephone being an, uh... emotional support pig makes it a welfare issue. We need the chaplain.’
* * *
Halley
Mom often stated that one of her greatest strengths was tough love, and Halley could do without it.
‘You haven’t eaten a single one of Henry’s meals,’ Mom said, cornering Halley at the coffee machine that morning. ‘I counted.’
‘Not hungry,’ Halley muttered, sacrificing a second mug of caffeine to escape.
An hour later, Mom waited for her outside her bathroom. ‘Y’know, Henry spent two evenings in the kitchen at Christmas, purely because you were sad that he’d never cooked for you.’
Halley shouldered past, only grazing Mom, who backed away at the last second.
And now Mom had put on Gilmore Girls . It was a trap, Halley knew, but she couldn’t resist, and slunk in to sit on the opposite end of the couch, cradling a cushion.
‘Do you—’ Mom began, and Halley flinched.
‘I can’t talk about it right now. I’m starting at the department in the morning, and I’ve got to get my head straight...’ She trailed off, figuring something out. Or rather, attempting to, and drawing a blank. ‘Wait, you don’t even know about that? And Antarctica and everything?’
‘I heard about an enticing job in Chicago,’ Mom said. ‘You’ll have to fill me in on Antarctica.’
Halley stared at her. ‘Who from?’
‘Angelie got a hold of me. So I cut my trip short and drove home.’
‘Drove? Hadn’t you flown to Arizona?’ Halley felt like she was looking through the wrong end of a telescope.
‘Different retreat, this time,’ Mom said. ‘Have some M&M’s in popcorn.’
Halley shrouded her face in the cushion. ‘No. I ate that with...’
‘ Henry ,’ Mom finished for her. ‘You may as well say it. We have to discuss what happened sooner or later.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss. It’s...’ She bit her lower lip hard. ‘Over.’
‘At whose instigation?’
Halley didn’t answer.
‘Halley,’ Mom said so gently that she risked a glance over the cushion. ‘You ended it, didn’t you? Did you feel Henry wanted you to choose between him and the job?’
Halley scrunched her forehead. ‘He wouldn’t do that. He’s made it clear I shouldn’t sacrifice anything for him.’
Mom stood up, and wandered to the shelf of framed photos. ‘And, it wasn’t worth making the effort to hash all this out in person?’
She breathed through the burn in her lungs. ‘He wanted to. I told him not to come...’
Mom swung back toward her. ‘Why ever not?’
Halley felt her frustration rise. ‘This is actually nothing to do with you!’
‘My kid’s been hurt,’ Mom shot back. ‘Just because you did it to yourself doesn’t make it any less my business!’ Halley curled up into a tighter ball, and Mom sat heavily beside her. ‘I get that Henry’s not in a position to move here, and that you’ve got a great opportunity in Chicago. Or in Antarctica. Or something.’ She waved a hand. ‘Those details can wait. It’s splitting up from Henry that’s making you miserable — and him too, by the way.’
Halley screwed her eyes shut. ‘Angelie can’t possibly know that.’
‘Viola does, though.’
‘I knew you were gossiping with her,’ Halley hissed.
Mom ignored her. ‘I still don’t understand why you ended it. Long-distance isn’t ideal, but—’
‘Every relationship he’s ever had has fizzled out. I recognized that we were starting to, and cut it off quickly. In the long run, it’s far less... painful.’
There was silence. ‘What were the signs of it fizzling out?’
‘I only found out about his mom’s stroke from you! So he couldn’t need me nearly as much as he thinks he does.’
Mom frowned. ‘He said that?’
‘Kinda. He said, like, he wanted me safe more than he needed me there for him.’
‘And you took that as...’ Mom patted her head, like she was a toddler again. ‘You know you need to ask Henry to fly over?’
‘Shut. Up. Mom.’
‘Listen, Ju—’
‘Seriously, Mom — why would I listen to you on romantic relationships? You’re even more screwed up than I am!’
An instant later, she wished she could grab the words back. But Mom looked more intrigued than hurt. ‘What on earth do you mean by that?’
Halley shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
Mom examined her intently. ‘I think you need to tell me. And I know I need to tell you about the gentleman I just vacationed with.’
* * *
Monday, 3 February
Voice note from Viola to Henry:
Henry, you need to answer your phone, or call me back. The radio silence is making me worry. Please — we only need to chat briefly, but let me know you’re OK.
* * *
Tuesday, 4 February
Voice note from Viola to Henry:
Henry, I don’t want to pull rank, but I’m your older sister, and I need to talk to you. So call me back, or I’m driving to Oxford. I bloody mean it!
* * *
Henry
His feet pounded in time to his heart, as he ran south along the towpath, in the direction of the Blue Moon. It was still light, so hours earlier than usual, but Kwame and Ruth would be arriving soon, and their task was at least a three-person job.
The Blue Moon came into sight, and he experienced the familiar lurch. If only he’d immediately told her about Mum, she’d be there now, illuminating it with her brilliance—
He rejected the train of thought. If she’d done an Aron and got on the next flight, she wouldn’t have been at the symposium to get the amazing career opportunity. He couldn’t regret what he’d done. But dredging all that up only led to madness, so he stretched out his legs to increase his speed, puffing harder. The sky was bright blue, the air crisp, and the low winter sun caused the canal water to shine silver.
He steeled himself to focus on the Blue Moon, then scrunched his eyes up, straining to see... Ruth and Kwame had arrived — no , he let out a groan. There was only one figure on the deck, not two, and he recognized her long black puffer coat, even with her hood up — it was Viola, making good on her threat.
She was peering through the tiny window beside the door to the galley, so she hadn’t seen him yet, and he slowed, considering running back the way he’d come. But she was unfolding his deckchair, clearly prepared to wait for as long as it took, as she sunk down onto it, taking her out of his sight.
He should have locked the boat up properly, with the chain and shutters, because only having secured the doors made his imminent return obvious. And he should have avoided this entirely by responding to Viola’s messages, rather than continually putting off even a brief reply.
He mopped the sweat from his forehead with the long sleeve of his T-shirt, mentally rehearsing the spiel: Halley and I are over. Now it’s sunk in, I’m fine. It had to be smooth, and he must maintain eye contact, and it would be hell, but he repeated it a few more times. As he paced the final few metres, he switched to deep breathing instead, preparing himself to smile and speak fluently.
Then he stepped aboard the deck and, even before he glanced over at her, some instinct hit him, and all the breath left his body.
Because the eyes colliding with his weren’t his sister’s.
The woman scrambling up from the deckchair, wringing her hands together was...
It was Halley. His Halley. In the flesh.