Part Sixteen
Halley
The air was vibrating. Or she was. Halley couldn’t tell.
‘I . . . I came to say I’m sorry.’
Her words unleashed whatever restraint Henry had been imposing on himself, and he swept forward to envelop her in his arms.
She revelled in the sensation of his warmth, and solidity and best of all this reception, which was much better than she deserved. But far too soon, he loosened his grasp on her. She didn’t let him pull back far, instead stepping with him. For a moment she feared he’d insist on distance, but instead his arms flew back around her and she was once more tucked in close to him.
‘How are you here?’ he said, so softly that she felt the shape of it against her forehead more than she heard it.
‘I remembered my promise,’ she breathed. He didn’t reply, and she wondered if she’d need to remind him of her vow when he’d shared his haunting fear — only ever seeing her once in his lifetime.
‘But how , Halley? Your new department...’ He attempted to step back again, and this time she let him. Happiness and unease were warring on his face.
‘Uh... the explanation might take a while. Can we go inside?’
He tore his eyes from hers to regard the Blue Moon’s door. ‘It’s just... A coffee shop might be better...’
He didn’t want her in his personal space, then. ‘Oh. Sure,’ she said, attempting a nonchalant tone and turning away to the suitcases she’d heaved onto the deck. ‘Should... could we lock these in there, for now? Or bring them—’
‘ Halley ?’ She met his gaze. ‘I didn’t mean you’re not welcome inside. It’s that...’ He broke off, shaking his head helplessly. ‘So be it.’ He moved to unlock the door, then held it open for her. ‘Come in. Please.’
She stepped into the galley, slipping off her gym shoes as she observed that the sofa bed was pulled out, and piled high with linen and pillows. Unsure where to sit, she glanced back at Henry, who was wheeling in her luggage. He caught up her hand, leading her to a seat at the wood-burner side of the table-come-desk.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked.
‘Not at all.’ An instant later she was aware of her error. If she’d said yes, he’d have moved away to build the fire, giving her vital seconds to fortify herself for what must be said. Instead he was sliding in opposite her, so close their knees touched.
‘I saw you in the distance, but thought you were Viola,’ he said, his voice not yet recovered. ‘She has a similar coat.’
‘Every woman who frequents places as cold as Chicago and Iceland has a coat like this,’ Halley said, wondering why the hell they were discussing coats. ‘Just... I need a moment.’ She steepled her hands, rested her chin on them, and closed her eyes. Opening them, she caught a glimpse of something on Henry’s face, before he shuttered it an instant later.
It had been fear, and she tensed, hating herself. Perhaps her first instinct had been right, after all, when she ended what was between them, rather than drawing out their agony.
‘Halley?’ he said unsteadily. ‘You look like you’re regretting coming. Please don’t. I’m glad you’re here... however short — or long — your stay.’
With his face only a foot from hers, it was impossible to miss the flicker of pain as he said however short, and his absolute agony when he added or long , and she suddenly knew what he was thinking, even clearer than she knew her own mind: it would be hell if she left — and even worse if she stayed, because of what she’d have had to sacrifice.
She held her hands out for his. He gave them to her, and she entwined their fingers. ‘Henry, let me explain—’
‘No,’ he said, with surprising intensity. ‘Let me... bask in this for a little longer, before everything else intrudes again.’
‘Listen to me,’ she whispered. ‘I want us to be together.’
His brows drew together. ‘But the job? And your dream — Antarctica?’
‘Please listen,’ she said again, and his hands tightened on hers in response. ‘After Professor Jansen insisted, yesterday morning, that I tell her why I’d been planning on writing up over here, I confided... our situation. And then couldn’t stop crying. For like, two hours. So she... well, she countered with a new offer. I think it’s our compromise.’
The parallel lines appeared between Henry’s brows. She wanted to smooth them out with her fingers. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘They offered me the job in the first place because they wanted my input on their Antarctica telescope, right? Turns out, if I don’t want the job, they still want my input.’ Her throat ached, so even breathing hurt. ‘They’ll pay me to winter-over in Antarctica. Like, this winter. I can do the work on their telescope, and write up my thesis while I’m there. If I accept — if we decide I should accept,’ she corrected, desperate for him to know she wouldn’t make a unilateral decision again, ‘I’d have to leave two weeks from now, and be gone for six months. Afterwards, I’ll move here.’
She waited for his verdict, her stomach tight with trepidation. ‘Six months in Antarctica,’ he said slowly. ‘But then... no job to return to.’
‘Umm... Well, it’s kind of prestigious, to be upgrading a telescope like that, right out of doctoral studies. Professor Jansen alerted the London university who’s partnering on the telescope. She says they’ll... well, to quote her exactly, snap me up .’
Henry’s face was inscrutable again. ‘You’re telling me that if we wait six months, you’ll be here for good?’
‘I mean . . . if we decide I should accept . . .’
Henry was laughing, as he leaned in so close that she felt his breath on her face. ‘How could that ever be in question? You found our compromise, Halley! Only six months apart — when I’ve spent a week thinking it’ll be at least three years before I’d be in a position to even try to win you back!’
‘I’d have to fly to New Zealand on the eighteenth.’ She didn’t know what was wrong with her, listing objection after objection like this, when she’d spent the long journey here aching for him to agree to the compromise she’d found. ‘The day before your birthday. I’ll be flying the final leg by the nineteenth — I won’t even be able to contact you.’
‘So I’ll get to spend my birthday knowing you’re coming back to me,’ he said, still smiling as he stood and drew her to her feet. He slipped his arms inside her coat and wrapped them around her waist.
She reached up to encircle his neck. ‘But it’s half a year apart, leaving in fourteen days — I’ll miss you so bad!’
‘I’ll miss you too. Six months without physical proximity’s rubbish, but we’d talk every day. And we’re experts at virtual dates. We’re good at that — we started like that.’
‘We started with a kiss,’ she said, her eyes flying to his soft lips. Instead of taking the hint, he made a demurring sound, and released her waist.
‘We started with rain, and a queue. And your hair was just like this.’ He touched the pencil she’d used to hold it up, then pulled it out, releasing her long hair. ‘I’ve wanted to do that since September. And this.’ He slid both hands from her neck into her hair, as she leaned in to meet his mouth halfway.
The memory of their first kiss had been seared into her lips for months, and every time she’d imagined being reunited with Henry, their kiss carried on from where that one had left off. But as good as it was, that kiss had been between near-strangers.
This one was instantly deeper, fuelled by the connection of their minds and depth of their love and the all-consuming desire to finally know each other in the one way that had been barred to them by distance.
When they eventually parted, she was grasping the round neck of Henry’s top and he had a hand in her hair and the other spanning her shoulder blades. Neither of them released their hold enough for them to separate more than an inch, as she shifted her eyes in the direction of his bedroom.
‘Shall we . . .’ she began.
Henry pulled her close to him once more. ‘Unfortunately, it’s... occupied.’
‘What?’
He was laughing soundlessly. She could feel the quake in his chest, and when she stepped back from him he only laughed harder, covering his face with his hands. ‘Oh God. You’ll think... I have no idea what you’ll think...’
Giving up on an explanation, she turned to pace through the corridor, where she had to sidle past a double mattress, resting on its side against bookcases. The bedroom door was shut fast, and she knocked uncertainly before turning the handle. Inside was entirely bare, except for the bedframe and a large object, entirely covered by a blanket. She edged closer and lifted the fabric, exposing the mesh of an animal crate.
Inside was a pig in a pink collar, which snuffled at her.
* * *
Henry
As he and Kwame heaved the crate into the back of the van, Ruth was apologizing to Halley again. ‘Henry didn’t want the pig on the Blue Moon, but there was nowhere else,’ she added, as if Halley might otherwise feel that he’d replaced her with a pig.
‘And it was only for a few hours,’ Henry said. ‘After the vet appointment.’
‘So you both keep saying,’ Halley said, smiling as he returned to her side. He wanted to sling his arm around her shoulders, but wasn’t quite sure whether it would be welcome, when he hadn’t had a chance to change since his run.
Halley slid an arm around him, resting her hand on the waistband of his joggers, which effectively answered his question. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.
‘I’d better get back to reassure the young fools that it’s gone to the petting farm without any problem,’ Ruth said, with a sigh.
‘Don’t say it like that to Olivia,’ Kwame put in, slamming the van’s back doors. ‘She’ll insist the creature’s a her, not an it. You know she begged me to tell the petting farm that her name’s Persephone OxPig?’
Ruth gawked at him. ‘Don’t you dare! I’ve spent forty-eight hours applying for the licenses to hold a pig, register a pig, and transport a pig, to legally enable the rehoming to go ahead, all alongside evading questions about where the creature came from and why it’s been unlicensed until now. Persephone OxPig gives rather too much away, so she’s become Perri.’
‘Perri it is,’ Kwame said. ‘Mate, you ready?’
Henry wanted to say no, but it was his students who were being rescued from expulsion, and Ruth had already done more than enough. ‘Sure,’ he said, hugging Halley tight, before peeling himself away from her.
‘Why don’t you come back to St Jude’s with me, Halley?’ Ruth said. ‘The boys will only be an hour, so they’ll be with us by dinner.’
Halley glanced at him. ‘Does dinner at college work?’
She’d made friends with his friends at Christmas, so it made sense that she was up for it. But he’d rather have her to himself tonight. ‘If you want? Or a restaurant — or I could straighten the place up and cook?’
At the final option, her face lit up. ‘I’d like that. And I’ll get the Blue Moon straight while you’re gone.’
Reluctantly, Henry got into the passenger seat of the van, then recalled what she’d need, and rolled down the window. ‘Sweetheart?’ He threw her the set of spare keys for the Blue Moon, and she caught them one-handed.
‘Thanks, babe. See you in an hour.’
‘A bit less,’ he promised her, waving as Kwame pulled off, smirking. ‘What?’
‘You know Babe’s a pig, right?’
‘Maybe concentrate on speed, or I’ll list all the ways Ruth’s referred to you during sermons in chapel. My hubby-wubby—’
‘All right — putting my foot down!’
* * *
Halley
After building up the log burner she’d hauled the double mattress through to the bedroom, before retrieving the linen and pillows from the sofa bed and making it neatly. Then she’d indulged in a long shower, re-dressed in knit loungewear, and sat crossed-legged in front of the fire, finger drying her hair.
It was still damp when there was a knock on the stern door, forty minutes after Henry had left.
‘It’s only me,’ he called, his keys jangling.
‘It’s unbolted.’ She smiled as he entered. ‘ Only me ? The love of my life isn’t only anything. Come and kiss me.’
‘The love of your life, eh?’ He was smiling as he made his way toward her, but then paused and ran his hands through his hair rather ruefully. ‘The love of your life stinks of a run and a pigsty, and you’re all shiny and perfect. Give me ten minutes?’
‘Five,’ she said begrudgingly, but blew him a kiss as he passed her.
While she waited, she rubbed her hair vociferously with a towel. Twitchy for his return, she focused her mind on counting down silently, but it only increased her nerves. By the time he exited the shower room, she was trembling.
He wore a white T-shirt, and brushed cotton trousers that were probably pyjamas and, like her, had a towel round his neck. She wondered if her own expression was as serious, and intent.
He didn’t sit beside her on the rug, but on the end of the sofa bed, from where he lowered his hands onto her shoulders. Her towel had become damp, and he unfurled it and set it aside, then replaced it with his own. ‘Let me?’
Before she’d figured out what he was asking, he drew up the sides of the towel and started to rub her hair dry, much more gently than she’d been doing.
‘I should buy a hairdryer,’ he said, in little over a whisper.
His voice helped, and she found herself shifting back against his legs. ‘I brought mine, but forgot a UK plug converter.’
He worked his way up from the lengths of her hair, and his hands lingered at her neck, parting her hair to stroke her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned back on his knees as his fingers rose again, rubbing circles into her scalp.
She was relaxing properly for the first time in days, and her nerves had dissipated entirely. As the tips of his fingers reached her forehead, she reopened her eyes, unsurprised to find Henry’s blue-green gaze fixed down on her.
‘I love you,’ she breathed.
His eyes crinkled. ‘I love you too, Halley.’
They had fourteen days, which left no time for shyness, so she stood up. ‘Prove it.’
She thought he might blush, but instead he was instantly moving, and then she was flying, and laughing hard, as he scooped her into his arms. She held tight as he carried her into his bedroom and collapsed them onto his bed.
She’d landed on her back beside him, and rolling onto her side, Halley found herself nose to nose with Henry. She couldn’t read his expression.
‘Do you wanna do this?’ she blurted.
His eyes went wide. ‘Why, don’t you?’
‘Of course! I suggested it. I’m checking it’s OK with you?’
‘I think I’ll cope,’ he said solemnly, before he laughed again. ‘You literally never need to ask. Just claim some of those million kisses I promised you.’
She was close to memorizing every valediction he’d used, but especially that one. ‘ Soon I will hold you in my arms and lavish you with a million kisses, ’ she murmured, as Henry lifted her hand, and pressed a kiss to her palm.
‘One,’ he said.
‘No,’ she said, giggling because it tickled, and she was reunited with Henry, and she’d found their compromise. ‘There were three earlier. That was number four.’
She could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of her wrist, before he kissed her there. ‘Five.’
Before he’d even made his whole way up her left arm, it was her who’d lost count — and, she found, when she tried to point that out ― the power of speech.
* * *
Wednesday, 5 February
Henry
Not only was Halley finally in his bed at the same time as him, but she was comfortable — and exhausted — enough to still be sleeping soundly. He tried not to rustle the covers as he got up and padded out of the bedroom, closing the door almost noiselessly behind him. He opened the wood burner and set a fire, then picked up the discarded towels from the floor, smiling.
Halley appeared before the kettle was even boiled, wearing his bathrobe.
‘I forgot to thank you for the frozen meals,’ she said, hugging tight around his chest. ‘I had both the desserts on Monday, just after booking my flight, and they were delicious. And I know you claim I’m smart, but you must have reconsidered when I missed all the hints to check out the deepfreeze.’
‘I claim you’re brilliant , because you are — and soon there’ll be an upgraded telescope in Antarctica to prove it to the rest of the planet.’ For a moment he worried that he’d been wrong to mention it. Antarctica was why they only had two weeks together, for now.
But Halley smiled, before heaving a sigh. ‘I’ve gotta cut down on coffee, ready for that.’
‘Earl Grey then? Or herbal tea?’
‘ Herbal ,’ she repeated, imitating his pronunciation.
‘It makes a lot more sense than ’erbal .’
‘No it doesn’t. And I guess one coffee’s OK.’
‘And what would you like for breakfast?’ he asked, spooning ground coffee into the cafetière. ‘I might need to pop out for ingredients — I’ve run out of eggs.’ He’d run out of almost everything. He couldn’t even remember when he last bought groceries. Thankfully they’d both been too preoccupied for supper.
‘Let’s go out for breakfast? I’ll bring a notebook so we can plan a schedule for the next thirteen days. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy whenever you’ve got to work, but I’ll make sure I’m free whenever you are.’
‘I’ve got very little on this week, and I booked next week off, remember? For our—’ He caught himself. She’d leave the day before his birthday. ‘For your birthday, and Valentine’s.’
‘You didn’t cancel the leave, when I . . .’
‘No,’ he said, pouring boiling water. He darted a look at her. ‘And I also didn’t cancel something I’d booked as your birthday gift. Remember when we imagined what we’d do if we were together right at that moment — you suggested Antarctica, but then preferred my suggestion?’
‘Stargazing in the Cairngorms,’ she said, round-eyed.
‘I booked that cabin we found. With a telescope beside the hot tub.’
‘Oh my God!’ She ignored the mug he pushed along the countertop, leaning up to kiss him instead. ‘That’s amazing! Though... I didn’t bring a swimsuit.’
He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Lucky me.’
Halley’s smile was smug as he bent to return her kiss, but just as their lips met, his phone rang.
She pulled back. ‘You’re not getting that?’
‘It’ll only be Viola.’
Halley stepped back further. ‘That reminds me. There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Later,’ he begged.
She shook her head. ‘It’s important. I falsely accused her of gossiping about us to my mom. It was never Viola. She and Angelie exchanged a few messages last week, and Angelie then talked to my mom, but that was all. Mom’s informant was someone else entirely.’
Henry frowned. ‘Who?’
‘Rupert Peters! When Mom got your initial email, she decided to check it really came from the only Henry Inglis she could find in Oxford — on your college website. So she emailed your boss to confirm. He replied a few weeks later, and since then they’ve been emailing as much as us — maybe more!’
Speechless, Henry stared at her.
‘Apparently Rupert mostly refused to discuss you, so useful things didn’t get back to me — like when you were sick with flu. But when Mom planned my Christmas trip she got enough out of him to figure out where you were — or so she thought. And when you asked him about jobs in America, he freaked and told Mom to have me dissuade you. And they’ve just been on vacation together!’ Halley winced. ‘They booked it before they’d even met once! Mom refers to him as her silver fox, and tried to tell me all these things they’ve been up to...’
* * *
Thursday, 6 February
Voice note for Viola from Henry:
Hey Vi, your rubbish little brother here. Uh... as you’d surmised, I was having a rough week, but everything’s fantastic now. How are Mum and Dad — can I have an update? And... well... Halley’s here, and wants to say hi — Hi Viola! Can I meet you really soon? And your parents too, if it won’t confuse your mom too bad? — So, yes, long story short, Halley’s here for another twelve days, then in Antarctica for six months, then back here for good. And if it works for you, we’ll come to Hampshire shortly, to introduce her to you all, and collect those wine glasses — let me know.
* * *
Friday, 7 February
Halley
Henry was particularly cute in his reading glasses, but unfortunately, the middle of the Old Bod wasn’t a place she could do anything about it. Except plot for later, so she made the most of sitting opposite each other, their feet tangled under the table, and surreptitiously opened instant messenger on her laptop.
Henry, wear those for me when we’re alone and I’ll make it worth your while...
She knew when it appeared on his laptop screen, because he went pink. She also knew that he blushed because he was fair skinned, not because he was shy, so she was unsurprised when a reply flashed up.
Same, for the skimpy sparkly thing that’s been winking at me from the wardrobe. xxx
How about 8 p.m. tonight, your time (and mine)?
Make it 6 p.m., and you’ve got a deal. xxx
It was hard to return her attention to her project after that, and she minimized it to reread their instant messages. The xxx she’d loved when they couldn’t actually kiss were such a pale reflection of the real thing. And it was all she’d get for half a year. She added another message.
When I’m away, don’t message me xxx. We should wait for the real thing.
She was aware of Henry looking over at her, but kept her attention on her screen, and he got the hint.
Seriously?
She considered before replying.
Yeah. And none of the valedictions and I love yous in emails, either. Let’s keep emails for practical stuff, and save the romance for video calls.
That’s ludicrous, sweetheart.
It’s not! All that feels like a step backwards — we don’t need to hide between written communications anymore.
I’m unconvinced.
Well I’m not!
I’ll think about it. Ready to go home?
Hell yes! But you had something important to check out?
Instead of a written reply, he was out of his seat, smiling at her. ‘ I’m done ,’ he mouthed. They’d only brought one bag, and they both packed their things inside, before Henry shouldered it.
They exited into Radcliffe Square, and Henry spun to face her so quickly that for a split second she wondered if he was exasperated by her suggestion for their written communications. But he was grinning.
‘I just found something I’ve been looking for since before I even met you.’
She paused from tucking her hair into her hood. ‘What?’
‘Information on Lawrence Sedgwick after he left the Royal Navy in 1815. There was no reference to him at all in the records from the Sedgwicks’ local church, where the rest of the births, marriages and deaths were listed. I’d begun to fear that he died on the road after leaving his final ship.’
‘Oh no, poor Christobel Mallory!’
‘That would be Christobel Sedgwick,’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘It’s what I found — their marriage certificate, from that same day in 1815 — but in Portsmouth, where his ship had docked. She must have rushed there to be reunited with him, and they got married right away.’
‘But what happened after that?’
He shrugged, and led her toward the canal, and home. ‘Don’t know yet. But I’ve got six months on my hands for digging around old parish records. I’ll start with births registered in 1816, and go from there.’
‘But they were reunited,’ Halley said, as it sank in. ‘All that love, in all those letters, through all that danger he faced, and they made it.’
‘They made it,’ Henry agreed, grasping her hand a little tighter.
* * *
Sunday, 9 February
Henry
He most liked everything that was impossible through screens. Examining all the tiny charms on Halley’s necklace. Giving her tastes of food he was making. Touching, touching, touching. And most recently, the romance of stargazing — even though it turned out to mostly comprise of Halley’s lectures on the night sky.
‘So that’s Mars and obviously, the moon,’ Halley said, pointing into the sky with her finger, between the orange-red twinkle and the crescent moon nearby. ‘Over the next few hours they’re gonna make an even closer approach to each other. Not close enough that you’ll be able to see them both at the same time through this telescope, but even with the naked eye it’ll be cool.’
He bent to examine Mars in more detail through the telescope. ‘How did I never realize it’s so literally the red planet?’
‘Because you’re like most people, and don’t look up,’ Halley said, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t ask me why.’ She thumbed something into her phone. ‘I’m checking which quadrant we should observe for the meteor shower — no promises, but we might see what’s commonly known as a shooting star. Remember it’s a meteor though — asteroids are too small to see, and comets are visible for days or weeks, not just a few seconds.’ Her voice had grown distracted, and she sat abruptly on one of the dining chairs they’d carried out to the decking.
‘Everything OK, sweetheart?’
‘Would the drive home take us anywhere near Manchester?’
‘It could do. You want to upgrade to a better footie team?’
She looked scandalized. ‘Never! You can’t change allegiance from Southampton, and we already agreed to support each other’s teams — except for international competitions when we’re UK versus USA all the way.’
‘So why the interest in Manchester?’ He wasn’t used to seeing her look shy, and drew the other chair close to sit beside her. ‘It’s a great city, and we can definitely fit it in, whatever your reason...’
‘I’ve got an email that means the news must be out about what I’ll be doing in Antarctica. A professor in Manchester wants to show me around her department, because they’ve got a junior professorship opening up in September... I think I want to accept the offer in London, so I can commute from Oxford, but there’s no harm checking it out, right?’
Headhunted for a junior professorship, right out of her Ph.D. He grinned at her. ‘None at all. If you prefer the department, we’ll live in the middle and both commute. If you don’t, you can use it to negotiate your salary in London.’
* * *
Thursday, 13 February
Text messages between Angelie and Halley:
Happy Birthday, Buddha! Have you come up for air yet? And how’s Project: Get-Henry-To-Watch-A-Whole-Ball-Game?
Thanks! And good — I recorded the Super Bowl and he sat with me!
Did he watch it though?
It was more like I watched the game while he read, and rubbed my feet.
Your ‘feet’ lol.
Yes my feet! We’d hiked twelve miles the day before.
But yeah, OK, not just my feet! Everything good there?
Very. Ben’s joined all my businesses, so it’s more efficient for him to move in. You don’t need to bother paying half the rent anymore.
* * *
From: Halley Hart
Subject: Podcast
To: Halley A. Hart
Hi Halley-Anne,
This is Henry’s Halley. I wanted to thank you for offering to help him find me, and for the great advice you’ve given him since.
He and I are very much together, but I have a long trip upcoming. I’ve been downloading episodes of your pod for the journey, and if you’d like me to call into a future recording then that should be possible. I’d like veto rights on the episode title, though!
Thanks again and take care,
Halley
* * *
Tuesday, 18 February
Halley
Neurologists recognized at least nine senses, but in the past week she’d discovered another, so distinct she was certain it deserved a name of its own — the sense of Henry’s body next to hers.
She ran a hand down his sleeping form, and he turned immediately, putting his arms around her. Not sleeping, then.
‘Last time sharing a bed for half a year,’ she whispered, her eyes stinging. ‘How will we bear it?’
‘With email,’ Henry breathed. ‘And video calls and music and books and friends and family and the absorption of our work.’
She frowned. ‘All that’s a lot. But is it enough?’
‘I wasn’t finished,’ Henry said, nuzzling closer. ‘Most of all, with the knowledge that it is only six months. After that we’ve got at least another thirty-five years — because I refuse to believe we won’t be together to witness your comet when it’s next visible, in the 2060s.’
They’d discussed the second half of the year, and even the next few years, via which job Halley might take, and where they should live, and vacations they’d like to plan, but never specifically beyond that. So to hear suddenly that Henry’s frame of reference was a minimum of thirty-five years made her load lighten. With decades ahead of them, they’d survive six months.
‘You’ll remember to only write me brief, factual emails though?’ she said.
The vertical lines appeared between his eyebrows. ‘I wish you hadn’t talked me into that. Do you really insist?’
‘Yes! I don’t want to bawl every time I open my inbox. So we’ll keep those practical, and save the sentimental stuff for video chats.’
Henry didn’t look at all convinced, but she distracted him with a deep kiss, refusing to waste a single second more of these last few hours before they’d part at the airport.
* * *
Wednesday, 19 February
From: Henry Inglis
Subject: Are You My Halley Hart?
To: Halley Hart
Dear Halley,
After my encounter, back in September, with a woman I only knew as Halley Hart, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I had no idea whether I stood any chance of finding her, nor, of course, of everything that lay ahead. Now, five months on, the reality is that the distance between me and ‘my’ Halley — you — is further than ever.
I know you’ll recall that today’s my birthday. I also know you won’t be in touch. Maybe that’s why I’ve been able to think about little but those early days, and why I’ve found myself compiling all the emails that resulted from my search. I’ve attached a copy for you. You’ve seen some of it before of course ― indeed, you wrote parts of it.
I hope this doesn’t make you feel worse about everything — that’s far from my intention.
Henry
* * *
From: Halley Hart
Subject: OK you’re right!
To: Henry Inglis
Henry!! I’ve landed an hour ahead of schedule so it’s 11.52 p.m. in the UK and I’m officially in time to wish you a Happy Birthday after all — it’s the first time an airplane has ever come through for us!
I hope you found the gift in the drawer by the bed? If not then go look, and don’t read on until you do...
Do you see?! You’ve emailed me a document with all our correspondence, and I printed out and bound the same, for you! I’ve added in messages with Mom and Angelie, whereas you’ve included stuff with Viola and Rupert and other Halleys, so if we add it all together, it’ll tell the whole story of us...
Babe, even from my first glimpse, it’s so beautiful here. The landscape’s really dramatic, and pristine — a real frozen paradise. And it’s so cold out that the air almost — but not quite — tastes minty.
On a practical note, the professor in London asks if I have a spouse who also needs a placement or a visa. (I replied that I don’t, I have a boyfriend and he’s British.) (I didn’t add that he’s also gorgeous, and practically perfect for me, and I miss him already, but that’s all true, too). But then I got to thinking, the whole double-placement double-visa thing will be a pain in the ass for as long as we’re not married, so shouldn’t we get on with that once I’m back? We don’t need to make a big deal about it, if you’d rather not — though Mom and Aunt Edie might have other ideas.
I love you, birthday boy.
Your Halley x
P.S. Sorry! Clearly, you were right and I was wrong. I don’t wanna exchange emails with you that are as stilted as business letters. So scrap everything I said before — I want kisses and valedictions and all the romance in every email!
* * *
From: Henry Inglis
Subject: ‘On a practical note’
To: Halley Hart
Halley my sweetheart, my future wife, my forever,
There’s no need to apologize. I knew your rules wouldn’t last — least of all, because you’ve never known the difference between romantic and practical messages. But proposing marriage under the guise of mere practicality really takes the biscuit, Halley. Having said that, YES, let’s get married when you’re back! And, like your mother and aunt, I probably consider it a pretty big deal...
I hadn’t found that gift until your email and still can’t believe we had the same idea, to compile our communications. I love the plan to merge it all, but even then our correspondence won’t quite tell the entire story. Maybe on the long nights ahead, when we’re especially missing each other, we could try joining the gaps by writing what we each experienced in between our messages?
I love you, Halley Hart.
Thine Henry xxx
THE END