Chapter Twenty-Four
Allie
There is something so exciting about coming back to the station after an expedition.
It’s the return to civilisation; the warm bed.
The team who are like family. Smiling faces in the cafeteria.
The download-chats over tea and our chef, Gustav’s, suspicious-looking new experimental bake. It feels like coming home.
As per tradition, as soon as we all trudge inside, as much as we’re all desperate for showers, clean sheets and comfortable clothes, we head into the common room – two researchers I don’t recognise are already in there, sitting on the sofas chatting, and Oliver, our PI, is there with a pile of papers and reading glasses on the end of his nose.
He grins, eyes lighting up at the sight of Milo and Jameson. ‘They’ve returned!’ he says. ‘And with an Oscar-worthy movie, I hope . . .’
Jameson smiles, tiredly. ‘Oh, it will be eventually, dude. Right now, though, it’s a mess. Like us.’
‘Everyone is very excited, though. I had no idea you had so many followers . . .’
And it’s weird to think about Milo and Jameson in that way – how they are to the rest of the world.
Followers. Clout. Reach. Stars. To know people stop them for selfies, take covert pictures of them, write about them, for people who really want to read about them.
Something about it makes them feel further from me.
I almost can’t think about who they are back on earth – how it changes things.
For now, we all arrange ourselves on the slightly tatty grey sofa, all but politely scramble to the coffee table, pouring tea and coffee, placing cookies onto napkins.
The common room is spotless. Carpets vacuumed.
A haze of pine air freshener. There’s a single PC on a computer table in the corner.
It’ll be time for a radio silence break soon.
On Tuesdays and Sundays, the ban on internet use is lifted.
Jameson is already talking about how excited he is to sync the GoPro footage to his cloud, to check his emails and subscriber count.
Milo sits on the bend of the sofa, beside Jameson, his arm thrown back behind him, a lazy hand through his hair, and I watch him as he takes everything in. He was quiet on the journey back. I wondered what he was feeling. Did he want to leave? Was he dreading it?
Around me, everyone catches up, others appearing in the doorway just to say hi, Polly setting up her iPad, ready to go over a few things for Oliver.
Over the din, Milo looks over at me. ‘Hi,’ he mouths.
‘Hi,’ I smile, and slowly his mouth breaks into a smile too, and we’re both laughing at nothing.
Oh, I don’t want him to leave. I know there are worse things in the world, but right now, I can hardly bear to consider it.
I keep thinking about what Polly said last night: finding a way.
Could we? Could I really just, what? Date . . . date Milo Ford?
Jameson plays him something on his camera.
Milo smiles. Genuine. Glassy-eyed. He’s so beautiful.
His soul – and I can’t believe I’m even saying such a thing because I didn’t think I even believed in souls, not like Milo does – is golden.
Wholesome. Is that really something you think about someone you’re going to just happily let go?
Moments later, Polly has her iPad connected to the large screen on the wall, and she’s showing Oliver photos and various notes; things she and Lars worked on.
It’s strange seeing pictures of day one, day two, day three .
. . I’d been oblivious to it. All this going on while I was losing my mind.
Iris joins in, talks to Oliver about pH and salinity and Jameson comes to unexpected life when Polly starts to talk about nitrates and the nutrient levels. It makes me smile.
Milo gestures with a cock of his head towards the screen. His eyes are tired but glinting. ‘Concentrate,’ he mouths.
‘No,’ I mouth back.
‘Do as you’re told,’ he mimes slowly, and we both start laughing silently, pressing our lips together to try to stifle it. I feel tired and giddy and giggly, and it feels nice. It feels so nice to be here, and not where we were, days ago.
‘Oh, and Allie – Oliver you won’t believe what Allie discovered. This cheered us all up. Allie—’ Polly turns to me, all pink cheeks and excitement. ‘Tell him about the puffins . . .’
I talk about them. About Lucky and Mart. And it’s nice, to once more feel that full, warm feeling of hope.
More photos are shown, more notes are taken, more tea is poured from lukewarm, town-hall-like teapots.
Then: there it is.
And I don’t know why exactly it stops me in my tracks, but it does.
A photo on the screen.
Milo, at the sight of it, smiles at me, across the busy room.
In the photo, Milo and I are on the mound. The mound upon which we sat looking at kittiwakes. Us, silhouetted against the blinding, endless sun. The dome of the sky. We’re looking at each other. We’re smiling. And we look . . . exactly how I always hoped I’d look someday, with someone.
But as people slowly turn their heads towards it, then back at us, heads bobbing as if watching a slow tennis match, something drags hard inside my chest. My hand lands there.
I feel exposed. If I don’t let Milo go, if I find a way, photos like that .
. . they won’t just be for our eyes. They’ll be accessible everywhere.
We will be. Immortalised in print forever, again, regardless of how we end up.
I can’t help thinking about how the leak really happened too.
What if it happens again? Another breach of our privacy, beyond our control.
The rest of the catch-up session blurs. People leave, Lars and Polly, and I go to follow. I need a break to think. I need space.
‘Um. Can we just – Allie?’ It’s Jameson. But he’s looking at both me and Milo.
‘You going to make one of your speeches?’ jokes Milo. ‘Because I’m feeling sort of emotional today and that might push me right over the edge.’
‘No,’ Jameson laughs. ‘But I was thinking, when we’re off the whole radio silence thing later, could we all meet in the computer room?’ He looks over at Iris, as if for backup or something. ‘Us four?’
‘A look over the footage,’ affirms Iris.
I nod. ‘Oh. Sure.’
‘We can have a farewell,’ says Milo with a sad smile. ‘Before we leave.’
And for a second, there’s a blink of relief to this uneasy, scared feeling pooling hot in my gut. I want him to stay, and I want him to leave all at once.