Chapter Eleven
No matter what Rani says, I still think the lilac silk dress that she insisted on my wearing might result in me getting confused
with the ghost of the Blue Lady if she is having a slightly off-colour day. It’s not the dress’s fault, it’s lovely. From
that with legs like mine, that’s a good thing, but while my legs might be long, they are also as white as snow.
Never once in all my life have I ever had a tan. I am fatally pale, like imagine milk that has had a terrible shock pale,
or a piece of paper in the Arctic pale. That’s how pale I am. Rani says the thing to do is to make a feature of my paleness.
And I’m like, Dude, since when has it been fashion to make a feature of looking like a near-death experience? And she said,
Well, it was quite big in the nineties and whatever was big in the nineties is in right now. Rani always has an answer for
everything.
Anyway, here I am, following her out on the terrace for cocktails, wishing with all my heart I was in my terrible Care Bear T-shirt with FT.
I will admit I like the feeling of the cool silk against my bare skin, and it’s pleasing to be wearing a tulle underskirt.
It lends the evening a welcome sense of make-believe as if all of this isn’t perhaps the single most important moment of my life, and really we are all just playing dress-up.
“Rani!” Alex calls to her from across the patio, where he has a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket.
“Shall we?” Rani asks, her eyes glittering in anticipation.
“I don’t think that invitation extends to me,” I say, noticing how Lady B is watching Alex like a hawk. “You go and have champagne.
I’m going to find an out-of-the-way place to stand and wish I was at home.”
“Oh Ava, your social skills are not nearly as bad as you think they are,” Rani says. “Will you be okay if I go?”
“I will be okay,” I assure her.
“Just shout my name if you need assistance,” she says, blowing me a kiss as she sashays through the crowd towards where Alex
is waiting for her. I watch him for a moment and notice the awe on his face at the sight of her beauty. He better realise
that Rani might not be a literal princess, but she still is the most queenly person I have ever known, and almost certainly
too good for him.
The evening is very fine, the air still warm with the last of the sun as I make my way to the quietest corner of the terrace.
I think I’m supposed to be hobnobbing with the judging panel and the trust committee, but I prefer to let my work speak for
itself, and also not to speak. Besides, FT is a much better communicator than I am. They’ll realise that when they see our
big presentation. Until then, I’ll have to do my best speaking for both of us.
The terrace stretches along the west side of one wing of the castle, catching and concentrating the last heat of the day.
Turning my back on the chatter of the jovial crowd, I admire the castle grounds, which seem to flow outwards from the house, a river of green grass and floral colours.
It ripples through the funnel of a formal Italian garden with a long rectangular pool that captures all the colours of the sky, neatly hemmed by little trees shaped into pyramids.
Beyond that, gently rolling hills are punctuated with ancient trees, and in the distance, I can see the ruined turret of one of the castle’s many follies.
Rani must never know this, probably no-one should ever know this, but sometimes I do secretly wish that FreeThought could see all these things at my side. I’d love to share these things with him, I love his curiosity and insight. If he were human
he would be my perfect companion. But I can’t tell Rani that—she would think I’d finally lost the plot and given up on humanity
for good.
“Did you have a marvellous day in your marvellous lab?” Hal appears at my side. He’s wearing a suit of a slightly different
shade of blue. It’s almost lavender and tones beautifully with my dress. His crisp white shirt is open at the neck, revealing
a light golden tan and glimpse of chest hair. Fourteen-year-old me’s knees turn to jelly, just at the thought of him standing
next to me, and right-now me is also in quite a dither about it. It’s at times like these that my stupid mouth will say something
ridiculous. No sooner thought than done.
“Felicitations!” I say, in honestly the most mortifying greeting that anyone has ever given anyone, ever.
I pause for a moment, expecting Hal to laugh at me or give me that familiar “Are you for real?” expression, but he doesn’t.
He just smiles and waits as if I’m not fatally peculiar at all, so I push on.
“Um, yes. Yes, I did, thank you. I spent the whole day with FreeThought and we are making so much progress, it was wonderful, really exciting. What about you? Is your lab as amazing as mine?”
Hal nods with a quietly confident smile.
“It’s quite spectacular,” he says. “Actually, I’m glad I caught you alone. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,
Ava.”
“Me?” I ask, pointing to my chest. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No!” Hal exclaims. “No, not at all. Ava, I have a confession to make . . .”
Before Hal can go any further, Sasha, her husband, and Forrest appear on the terrace.
“Ooooh, give me a gin and tonic,” Sasha says, waving a waiter over. She looks gorgeously flashy in a dress that’s slit right
up to her thigh and dripping in costume jewellery that could sink a sizeable ship. “Come on, Steve, let’s go and schmooze,
but get me another gin on the way, will you, Steve? I’m as parched as a rat’s arse.”
“Are rats’ arses ever parched?” I ask Hal, who chuckles. To my horror, Forrest has seen us and is coming right this way. And
he’s wearing—wait until I tell Rani this—dark jeans and a plaid shirt! That’s not dressing for dinner, that’s dressing to
be a lumberjack. I would take this complaint directly to Rani right now, but her gaze is locked on Alex’s, her head tilted
to one side and the sweep of her obsidian hair collapsing over one shoulder. Still, the injustice of it burns in my chest,
and even downing the second cocktail I’m offered doesn’t put out the fire.
“So that’s the dress you chose,” Forrest says, slowly taking me in from my head to my feet, which, did I mention, are wearing
these purple heels that Rani insisted on, and which make me exactly the same height as Forrest.
“Yes,” I sigh. “This is the dress I chose. So go ahead, mock me. Say I look like an anaemic blueberry or something. Get it over with.”
“I think you look lovely,” Forrest says, without a hint of sarcasm. “Don’t you agree, Hal?”
“Ravishing,” Hal says. “To Ava, the most beautiful woman in the room. Or on the terrace.”
If this was a book, or I was a normal person, then I might think that he was flirting with me, because although I’m not great
at picking up on social cues, it would be pretty hard to miss that. But it is not a novel, and I most definitely am not a
normal person. Which means that he is just kindly protecting me from any more of Forrest’s backhanded compliments, because
he is kind and feels sorry for me.
The three of us stand there in a sort of awkward silence, Forrest gazing out over the grounds. For a moment, I almost feel
sorry for him. He looks just as out of place here as I feel, and in a way, it doesn’t feel like a fair competition. I got
a state-of-the-art lab to work in and he got thirty feisty kids who are predisposed to assuming he’s a dickhead. Which he
is, but anyway.
“Forrest, Hal, Ava, darlings!” Sasha has made a lightning-fast circuit of the guests and arrives at our little group as if
she is entering a party thrown in her honour. I really like her. “Have you had a wonderful day? I’ve been videoing interviews
with some of the women that we’ve helped to start a business.”
“That must be so satisfying,” I say. “To see your work coming to fruition like that.”
“Oh, it is, darling,” Sasha says. “I have one lady; you’ll see her video tomorrow.
She couldn’t get a job after she went through cancer treatment and found herself on the wrong side of fifty.
Now she’s running her own bakery. It’s a beautiful thing, Ava.
A beautiful thing. Unlike your lot, hey, Forrest?
Sounded like you were on the verge of getting murdered at any second from where I was standing! ”
“They are a high-spirited lot, that’s for sure,” Forrest says, with a rueful smile that puts dimples in his stubble. “I won’t
lie, it was hard going at first. But I can’t blame them for being a handful. It’s their summer holidays and they’re packed
off to the ‘middle of nowhere,’ as one kid called it, to hang out here in a field with a poet. They definitely thought I’d
be fair game. But I’ve been in meaner streets and hung out with tougher kids than some teens from Scarborough, Yorkshire.
Even if they do, hands down, win the snarky sarcastic comments award.”
“Did you make progress?” Hal asks.
“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles at Sasha. “You’ll see tomorrow.”
“Steve!” Sasha suddenly bellows at her husband. “Bag us a couple more of those gin gimlets, will ya!”
Steve nods and picks up two glasses from a passing tray of drinks.
“Now then, Forrest,” she says. “I reckon you and I should form a strategic alliance against the geniuses here, don’t you?
We’re hearts and minds and they’re shiny toys. Come and have a drink with me and Steve and we can formulate a dastardly plan,”
Sasha says, grabbing Forrest’s hand, turning to me. “By which I mean Forrest and Steve can talk and I can gaze into Forrest’s
gorgeous eyes as much as I want, hey, chick?”
“Er, yeah?” I say, not at all sure of the appropriate response.
Forrest glances back at me as Sasha drags him through the crowd, and for the second time that evening I feel sorry for him.
Sasha is wonderful, a true force of nature, which means that when you have her attention it’s a bit like being sucked up into a hurricane.
Hal retrieves another cocktail from a passing waiter and hands it to me, our eyes meeting. For a second it feels like time
stands still.
“What were you saying before?” I ask, remembering that Hal told me he had a confession to make. I really hope it’s not that
he is my long-lost brother, because that would be one heck of a downer.
“Ah, right.” To my surprise, Hal takes my free hand, lightly holding my fingers as if he might be about to kiss it. “Well,
long story short, there’s something you need to . . .”
It’s at that moment that Lord Beaumont arrives. I’m not even joking. How many times can people turn up just to string out
the suspense of this moment? What do I need to know about Hal? And does it involve him being somehow improbably in love with
me? Because at this point that’s what I’m holding out for.
“What a wonderful evening!” Lord B booms at us, with the same volume and enthusiasm that he might address an arena crowd,
but just for us two. “Are you having a wonderful evening, Hal?” He turns to Hal, who lets go of my hand. “Are you having a
wonderful evening, Ava?”
“It’s a wonderful evening,” Hal agrees, sending me a secret smile.
“Really wonderful,” I repeat the sentiment, because a few minutes ago Hal was holding my hand, and anything felt possible,
and now that I’m on my third gimlet I feel like something verging on a social butterfly.
“Excellent, excellent.” He nods approvingly as he beckons to a suited man a few feet behind him.
“Now, I couldn’t help but notice that you two had tucked yourselves away over here from all the hubbub, and I know you academic types can be shy and rather, shall we say, reclusive animals, but that will never do.
No, that will never do. Can’t have you missing out on any opportunity to speak for your project, can we?
So, I want you to meet Peter Harding.” He gestures at the silver-haired man in a silver-grey suit, who nods at each, offering a hand, which I take, knowing that he’ll be judging me on the firmness of my handshake.
“Peter is a leading futures investor and one of the judges on the panel. I know you are presenting tomorrow, but all four of you are getting a chance to put a word in, as ’twere, informally. Pique his interest, if you will. What?”
“What?” I repeat.
“Exactly so,” Lord B says. “So Hal, let’s hear from you, shall we? Give us the old sales pitch for your thingumgy, why don’t
you?”
“I’d be delighted,” Hal says. “My research and testing is on the verge of making cost-effective custom-built bioengineered
organs for transplant a viable reality. Best of all, they don’t require a donation and won’t be rejected by the immune system,
making outcomes significantly better for the patient.”
“When you say ‘on the verge,’ what are we talking? Ten to twenty years?” Peter asks.
“No, ten to twenty months,” Hal says. “My research is two decades ahead of the field.”
“How?” Peter asks, astounded.
“You’ll have to wait for presentation week to find out the details,” Hal says, winking at me. “Of course, my lab is open for
you to come and see me at work, any time.”
I can’t understand how I have never heard of Hal Babbage before. For him to be so far ahead of the field on this research and to have seemingly come from nowhere is incredible.
“Incredibly sexy,” I hear myself say. Lord B, Peter Harding, and Hal Babbage all turn to look at me.
“Beg pardon?” Lord B asks.
“Incredibly . . . sexy.” I apparently I can’t think of another phrase to cover up my out-loud private thought, and so I just
double down. “Tech. Sexy tech. It’s a term.”
“It’s a term.” Hal backs me up, even though his eyes sparkle with repressed laughter.
“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckles, turning to me. “So, Ava, what ‘sexy’ tech do you have to offer? Care to enlighten us?”
Rani has put me through dozens of rehearsals for just this moment since we knew we were coming to Beaumont, but suddenly I
can’t think of any useful words, and also what if I blurt out more inappropriate thoughts?
“Nope,” I say. “Good day to you, sir.”
And I turn down the steps, kick off my shoes, and run.