Chapter Twenty-Two
Nate
Nate tried a different tack. He explained everything ad nauseam, to Jack and Rebecca.
Rebecca had been so harsh in her cross examination, picking into every single detail. ‘You knew nothing of Alex’s words to Laurel?… You really thought he was coming up with those ideas himself?… And Laurel is supposed to still fancy you?’
Yes, he admitted he has been a stupid, stupid man on more than one occasion, and he’d had that spelled out to him by Rebecca excruciatingly clearly.
Jack was sick of hearing the story. He could repeat it word for word.
But even Jack and Rebecca could not get Laurel to talk to Nate. She had an escort to and from her car, refused to let him into her office, refused to see him and apparently shut down every conversation in which Nate’s name was brought up.
It was the truth. He didn’t know about any of it.
It was Alex who had stolen Laurel’s paper out of Nate’s pigeonhole. Alex who had plagiarised it, copied it word for fucking word. Alex who had sat opposite Laurel in the student union bar and told her that she was wasting her time with both archaeology and Nate. It was Alex who had told her she was pathetic, less than nothing, destroyed her self-esteem, laughed at her, all because he didn’t have the brains to come up with anything original himself. All because he was jealous of her work.
He remembered seeing Alex sitting across from a young Laurel in a black strappy dress, drink on the table. Remembered her leaving. Remembered Alex saying ‘you’ve got to let them down gently when they chase you’. Remembered laughing with Alex about it.
Nate felt slimy and icky every time he thought about it.
Then there was the paper itself. Yes, the introduction had been good, epic even for an academic paper. It had entered a brave new world of engaging language, enticing non-academics to read further, getting people excited. It had got him excited anyway. But the rest of Alex’s (Laurel’s?) essay had needed work, needed honing, needed further exploration and a widening of scope. The conclusion had needed work, needed expansion and tightening. Nate had written and rewritten and edited and revised and rewritten the essay over and over.
But he had never touched that introduction.
‘Dr Daley.’ A soft voice interrupted his staring into space thinking about nothing. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or anything?’ The girl with the spider eyelashes asked him. It seems it’s Dr Daley again now. Good.
‘No thanks,’ he replied, with a tight smile.
He hated living in Robin’s house, with these students.
He wanted Laurel’s warm sofa, the smell of her shampoo in the morning, coffee from her cafetiere, her arms around him.
But she didn’t want to talk to him, and he couldn’t blame her. Actually, screw that, he could blame her. If Laurel actually cared about him, she would at least give him the opportunity to explain. Explain that it was all Alex, that he had never known she’d written anything, never known what Alex had said to her that fateful day in the university pub.
He understood why she was acting like she was, but if only she would let him explain.
Nate was sunken and hollow. He’d invested everything into this relationship with Laurel, and it was falling apart around him.
Then things started to happen.
The Chair of the Ethics Committee from the university called, expressing their ‘extreme discomfort’ at such allegations being levied against one of their most prestigious and celebrated staff members. The Ethics Committee representative made it eminently clear that his job was on the line. The career that he had worked so hard for, for so long, was at danger of becoming lost in the smoke, and all because of Alex. Nate accepted the emergency ethics meeting set for next week.
The second was a stroppy text from Lucia.
He ignored it.
Then, Owen called. He’d heard from Alex that there had been an argument, that Nate had been ‘unreasonable’ and ‘wouldn’t listen’ and ‘was making a huge mistake’.
‘Is that what he said? That I got him fired?’ Nate shouted down the phone. He was full of rage.
‘Yeah, well, he’s suspended because of something you did. They’re having a disciplinary meeting to look into it. Something about ethical violation?’ Owen sighed. ‘What the fuck did you do?’
‘What did I do? Why do you immediately think that it was my fault? Didn’t you think that Alex phoning you was his clumsy-ass attempt to get out ahead of it?’ Nate snapped. ‘He’s the one who has put my relationship, not to mention my entire career, in danger, without me even knowing about it!’
‘But what is it?’ Owen said, shuffling the phone. He could hear two sets of breaths. Jess was there as well.
‘You want to know what he did?’ Nate took one of the student’s cans of Fosters from the fridge and snapped it open. ‘I’ll tell you.’
They were appalled. There was no other word for it.
‘But how do the BAS know?’ Jess asked, distorted down the phone.
‘It all happened at the fucking funding meeting, Jess,’ Nate said, running a hand through his hair. ‘You know what academics are like, massive gossips. It must have spread like wildfire.’
There was silence at the end of the phone.
‘What?’ he prompted them.
‘So, really, Alex didn’t contribute anything to that paper, did he? There was Laurel’s introduction, and then you did the grunt work in polishing her ideas, as presented by Alex.’ Jess put it succinctly.
‘Not just polishing,’ he commented.
‘Well, there we are then, you essentially collaborated with Laurel, not Alex,’ Jess said. ‘How did none of us see that Alex wasn’t clever enough to come up with those imaginative ideas? Anyway,’ she hesitated, ‘what has Laurel said?’
Nate deflated.
‘She won’t talk to me. She thinks I was involved. She thinks I knew.’
The hole in his chest ached.
‘She’s hurting, she’s feeling betrayed, she’s struggling with all of this. I know I would be.’ There was silence at the end of the line, before Jess said, ‘Nate, do you love her?’
Did he love her? Could he not think without knowing she was alright? Was he crawling out of his skin not being able to talk to her, to touch her, to kiss her? He’d loved her since the moment he had picked her up out of the cow dung in the car park.
‘Yes,’ he said, hoarsely.
‘I’m glad you’ve admitted that to yourself because we could all see it,’ Jess said.
But saying it out loud, admitting it to his friends, he felt vulnerable. It scared him more than he wanted to admit. Laurel didn’t want anything to do with him, and it was just going to make his chest ache more.
‘So, if you love her, which you do, then what are you going to do about it?’ Jess was tough. He rubbed his eyes, his chin quivering slightly.
‘Jess,’ he whispered. ‘She doesn’t want to see me.’
‘Right, if I have to come there, I will.’
No thanks, Jess.
‘I saw how she looked at you. I talked with her. She loves you just as much as you love her, and at the moment she’s hurting and it’s easier to ignore you.’
He could only wish that was true, that Laurel loved him back.
‘So, are you going to sit around moping in your ratty jogging bottoms?’ Jess asked.
He picked at his ratty jogging bottoms, self-consciously.
‘Or are you going to do something? Are you going to prove to her that you are the man she thinks you are?’
‘Jess, I don’t know.’ He didn’t want to push Laurel.
But Jess carried on.
‘A grand gesture, Nate, that’s what you need. A grand gesture. Let me help.’
He didn’t have anything to lose at this point.
‘Okay.’
Laurel
There was no makeup in the world that could make her look human. Laurel tried, but the dark rings under her eyes just wouldn’t be covered up. Her skin was pallid and drawn, and because she had mainly eaten mini sausages and chocolate for the past week, oily and bumpy. But life went on, and there were emails to answer, there were people to cultivate.
The easiest way to cope, Laurel had found, was to not think about it. To keep extremely busy, to wear out her body and mind until the point of exhaustion so she didn’t have to lie awake thinking of him.
Laurel was finishing off an email to the vet querying how much the medication had cost for pig mastitis, because surely that invoice was way too high, when her door opened.
‘Sylvie, I’m busy,’ she mumbled without looking up.
‘Uh no. No, no, no,’ Rebecca said tartly, heels clicking on the floor as she strode into the room. ‘This is not how your life is going to be, thank you.’
‘Rebecca, why aren’t you at work?’ Initial relief was quickly replaced by anxiety. ‘Are the kids alright? Why are you home?’
‘Yes, they’re fine, the nanny has them,’ Rebecca said, checking her phone. ‘I’m here for you.’
‘Me? Why? What’s happened?’
‘Oh good lord, Laurel. You are a mess. A big fat mess, and I, as your best-friend-slash-sister-in-law, am not going to allow this anymore.’
Rebecca was pristine in her wide leg trousers and silk shirt, hair beautifully waved, the epitome of a successful businesswoman.
‘Rebecca, I just want to finish these emails, then I’m going home,’ she said, face dropping.
‘No.’
‘What do you mean, no?’ Laurel asked, her tiredness forcing her to snap.
‘I mean, no.’ Rebecca pursed her lips and hardened her face. ‘Come on, there’s something you need to see.’
‘Whatever it is, I’m sure Sylvie can—’ Laurel started, turning back to her computer.
‘I know what Sylvie can do, she is amazing, and you don’t pay her enough.’ Rebecca checked her phone again. If there was somewhere else she wanted to be, then she could just leave. That would be fine.
‘But this isn’t about Sylvie. This is about you.’
Laurel sighed. Rebecca meant well, they all did. Jack had tried talking to her about Nate, and even Robin attempted to work him into conversation. She shut those down quickly. There was no point in torturing herself. A clean break, that’s what it required. Another week, she would start to feel better and then she could talk about it. Maybe.
‘What?’ she asked, not bothering to hide her frustration.
‘Come on, it’s nearly time,’ Rebecca said, looking at her phone again and waving at Laurel to stand up.
‘Rebecca, I’m warning you. I don’t want to see—’ she didn’t finish her sentence.
‘I know, I know,’ Rebecca tilted her head to the side. ‘But you’ll have to talk to him sooner or later.’
‘Later will be fine.’ Laurel grabbed her phone and shoved it in her pocket. ‘What do you want to show me?’
Rebecca grinned and her eyes sparkled.
‘Come on. Follow me.’
It would help if Rebecca didn’t strut off like a viper was chasing her. Laurel cursed under her breath as she rushed to keep up. But Rebecca only made it down the corridor to Sylvie’s office, into which she disappeared with a grin.
What the bastard-hell was going on? If it was some kind of surprise party, some kind of thing to cheer her up, that was not something she could deal with today.
Not. At. All.
‘Guys, what’s going on?’ Laurel rounded the door timidly.
She didn’t put it past Rebecca to think that it would be best for her to see Nate, perhaps hiding in Sylvie’s office, wilting forgiveness-begging flowers in hand, stupid crooked smile, all contrite and apologetic. That, sweet Rebecca, would not go down well.
‘Shh, it’s starting,’ Rebecca said, motioning her to come in and sit down.
Sylvie’s computer screen had been turned around and the four chairs in the office set in front, like a cinema showing. Robin was lazing on one chair, arm across the back of Sylvie’s chair who was perched uncertainly next to him, paperwork on her lap. Rebecca was next, and she patted the hard seat of the chair next to her for Laurel, eyes glued to the screen.
‘What’s starting? What are we watching?’ Laurel said, but was quickly shushed by all three of them.
It was an afternoon talk show with a roving reporter talking animatedly into the camera.
Wait. That looked like the lake at Little Willow, and was that her woodland just behind it?
‘Is that here?’ Laurel asked. When had this happened?
‘Yes!’ Sylvie said excitedly. ‘They came a couple of days ago, I wanted it to be a surprise for you. You’re not mad, are you?’ Sylvie suddenly looked anxious, bless her.
‘No, not at all. That’s amazing Sylvie. You’ve got us on TV. Really, really good job,’ Laurel said. Definite pay rise.
‘It wasn’t me,’ the girl mumbled.
‘But it’s not just luscious fields, peaceful cows and a delightful little cafe here. There’s something a lot more interesting going on here as well,’ the reporter on screen was saying, ‘and we have Dr Nathanial Daley here to explain.’
‘No.’
Laurel started to stand, but Rebecca grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down.
‘Yes,’ she said forcefully. ‘If you’re not going to listen to me, the least you can do is sit here for five minutes.’
‘I hate you,’ Laurel said, not meaning it.
Rebecca shrugged. ‘Whatever, sister-in-law.’
‘Yes, that’s right, Katie. The Anglo-Saxon burial in this field is an exciting and captivating find,’ on-screen-Nate said. His voice was brittle but calm as he talked about the various finds that had been pulled out of the ground.
‘But something else has caused quite a stir in the archaeological world recently, hasn’t it?’ Reporter Katie was serious and Nate nodded gravely.
‘You may remember that Dr Daley was a guest on our show ten years ago, with his ground-breaking interpretation of a Pictish writing implement that could indicate that the Picts were a lot more educated than we gave them credit for.’ Laurel clenched her teeth and rolled her eyes. ‘Can you tell us what’s happened?’
Nate looked at the camera.
‘It’s recently come to light that the paper that was published under mine and someone else’s name plagiarised an undergraduate’s work.’
‘Tell us why this is a big deal, Dr Daley,’ Reporter Katie carried on, drawing the story out of him.
‘This undergraduate had her work stolen and has never received credit for her ideas or work. Actually, I’ve been in touch with the publishers who are issuing a statement and removing the paper from publication. I hope that I will be able to collaborate with her to hone and shape this paper the way she originally envisaged it.’
The publishers were retracting it? Was he saying he didn’t know about it? Surely he wouldn’t be spouting this unless he was one hundred percent sure that it wouldn’t be proved otherwise. He wants to work together on rewriting the paper?
This was a lot of information for Laurel to take in.
Sylvie reached across Rebecca and shoved the paperwork she had been holding into Laurel’s hands. It was the front cover of the extract of the Pictish stylus paper with her name there, in bright, bold letters, just underneath Nate’s.
Not Alex’s. Hers.
A Post-it note scrawled in Nate’s handwriting was stuck haphazardly across the title:
It’s not settled yet, but this is what I’m pushing for. I honestly didn’t know. I would never have let him. N
‘But there’s more, isn’t there, Dr Daley?’
Laurel’s attention snapped back to the TV screen, where reporter Katie’s face was plastered with a smug grin.
‘Yes, Katie, there is.’ Nate took a breath. ‘I’m going away to give the author some space because, understandably, this has been a big shock to her. But when I’m back I hope she forgives me, because…’ He looked straight at the camera, directly at her. ‘I am in love with her, and I can’t live without her.’
Laurel stood and the mocked up paper fluttered to the ground.
The world fell away.
‘Where is he?’
Nate
The taxi had been late because it was hammering down. Yes, the British rain had well and truly found its way to Little Houghton and the back roads were slippery and pot-holed, and half of them were built on peat so they shifted uncertainly every time there was a downpour. He should be at the train station by now, it would be leaving in five minutes. Well, there was always the next one. Jess and Owen wouldn’t mind if he was late.
Giving Laurel some space would be the best thing. Little Willow was her home and he had to let her work through this herself. Nate had thought of going to Paul in the south of France, but what if she wanted him? What if she needed him? It would take a day to get back to her, rather than a couple of hours on the train.
Nate’s eyes were rusty from lack of sleep and his beard was too long.
He checked his phone again. Nothing.
Surely Laurel would have seen it by now? Rebecca and Sylvie had promised. They’d promised.
Perhaps his grand gesture was too much, too intimate to be splashed all over daytime television. Although, he silently thanked Jess, once again, for her insistence that her afternoon chat show cover this ‘human interest’ story.
Fucking human interest.
Nate scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. He was so damned tired.
‘You alright, mate?’ the driver asked, looking at him through the rear-view mirror.
‘Yeah,’ Nate sighed. ‘Shit, watch out!’ he cried, because there was a big green tractor bursting through a gap in the hedgerow, straight onto the road in front of them.
‘Shit!’ the driver shouted, slamming on the brakes.
Nate was thrown against his seatbelt as the car skidded, his phone flying from his hand.
‘You okay?’ The driver turned to check that Nate wasn’t injured.
‘Yeah.’ He nodded.
Who the hell was that? Why were they driving that tractor like a maniac in the pouring rain?
‘Oi! What are you doing?’ The driver had the window down and obviously had the same thought as Nate had.
It was raining so hard, he could only make out two splodges in the cab of the tractor, but then one climbed down. One with a black dress on and long brown hair.
Nate launched himself out of the car because it was Laurel, standing there in the middle of the road, in the pouring rain.
His Laurel.
‘Where are you going?’ she called over the hammering of the rain on the tractor and the car. Why wasn’t she wearing a coat, a hood? She would catch her death being out here in just that flimsy cotton dress.
‘I’m going to Jess and Owen’s to give you some space,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
She was beautiful. Tired and exhausted. But beautiful.
He took a cautious step forward, not caring that he hadn’t done up the zip of his jacket, and the front of his shirt was saturated.
‘Are you coming back?’ she asked.
He made a mirthless laugh.
‘I don’t want to pressure you, Laurel.’
It was her turn to take a step forward, into a puddle, but she didn’t seem to notice.
‘You didn’t know,’ she said. It wasn’t a question. It was a revelation.
‘I didn’t know.’ He gave a tight smile.
‘I’m sorry, Nate, I should have listened to you, I should have let you explain. I was just so hurt, so upset. I thought you’d betrayed me. I didn’t,’ she stuttered, ‘I couldn’t.’
He was a few steps in front of her, but he couldn’t close that gap, wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her hair. No, he had to wait for her. He’d laid himself bare on television. It was up to her now.
‘Did you mean it?’ There was barely concealed hope in her eyes, and his chest bloomed with heat.
‘Yes,’ he rasped. ‘I meant it. I’m in love with you, Laurel Fletcher.’
Laurel’s throat bobbed in a swallow, and the tears on her cheeks mingled with the rain still falling hard from the sky.
She took a deep breath.
‘If you need to go, then go.’
Nate drooped. This was it, where his heart was pressed into nothing and was overtaken by the void in his chest.
‘But come back, because I love you, Nate Daley.’
Nate looked at her blankly. She wanted him to come back? Because she loved him? She loved him, like he loved her.
A crooked, nearly desperate smile blossomed on her face. She was waiting for him, but all he could do was stand there, watching the rain fall on her.
Laurel Fletcher raised her hand and held it out to him, raindrops dripping off her fingers.
Nate’s face split into a grin and he strode forward, grabbing her hand and letting her pull him to her.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t talk to you, I’m sorry,’ she was muttering, but he didn’t care. Laurel was crying, and he pushed the soaked tendrils of hair out of her face and wiped her cheeks.
‘Can you kiss her so we can all get back inside, please?’ Robin shouted from the cab of the tractor, bundled up against the weather.
Nate cupped her face and did just that, crushing his lips to hers as she wound her arms around his neck.
It was them, together.
Laurel and Nate, Nate and Laurel.