Chapter Eleven
Ethan
A fter my conversation with Ben about being friends with Sadie, I try to ignore the physical attraction I feel for her and concentrate on the work. For the most part, I’m successful.
She’s efficient and dedicated, and the three subjects she takes my tutorials for run like clockwork. It hasn’t escaped my notice that the grades for the weekly quizzes in those classes are demonstrably higher than my other two subjects. At first, I thought Sadie might be marking a little easy. But an audit of her marking showed the opposite was true. She’s a hard taskmaster. That said, she gives the students plenty of support and extra material to help them achieve.
I certainly wouldn’t be able to manage to teach five subjects, supervise her PhD and start planning for the upcoming season in Amarna without her help. She’s expressed the ambition of teaching here at the uni once she’s finished her PhD. And she’ll be great.
Sadie dresses like a flower child from the 70s. She rarely wears makeup, and she’s all flowing peasant dresses, cowboy boots and crochet cardigans. It’s a look that suits her perfectly because it’s completely at odds with her razor-sharp mind. The contrast is fascinating. On the surface, she’s making absolutely no attempt to attract my attention. But the reverse is happening.
Despite the lack of makeup and revealing clothes, there’s no ignoring Sadie. She’s beautiful in a no-nonsense way that reminds me of my sister, Greer, and my brother’s partner Freyja. And there’s no denying the intelligence and humour in her eyes is more attractive to me than any amount of eyeshadow or mascara.
I try to keep a tight lid on those thoughts, though. If I can pretend we’ve never been anything more than work colleagues for long enough, maybe my unconscious mind, which tortures me when I sleep, will eventually get the message.
There was a time in my life when I didn’t know what it was to be flirted with. I know what I am and what I’m not. Sure, I’m not a bad-looking guy. But I’m serious and a little awkward with people I don’t know. I don’t have the bravado of my brothers. I was also in a committed relationship from the time I was sixteen, and everyone knew it. Which sounds odd to say now. Sixteen is so young. But even then, I knew Jess and I were a forever thing. It breaks my heart that forever turned out to be so short.
But my time in Cambridge gave me a crash course in being flirted with. Seems like my awkwardness now comes across as broody and deep. And maybe I’ve grown into my slightly too-large nose and gangly limbs. I hated the attention at the time. Although, to be fair, I hated everything after Jessie’s death. Even breathing. I’m now grateful for the lesson because I spotted Riley’s intentions during our first conversation.
So far, I’ve managed to avoid being alone with her, so the flirting has been somewhat low-key and harmless. Until I make the mistake of staying late one evening in the room where the Berner Collection is held.
The room is restricted to teaching staff and PhD students because of the fragility and value of the manuscripts it holds. In fact, normally, Janet, who guards the collection like a dragon guards their treasure, wouldn’t allow anyone in without her personal supervision. But tonight she has a Zumba class to get to, and she trusts me to take care, and lock up securely before I leave.
I had no idea Riley was still in the building. It’s not like her to hang around after hours. She’s not what you’d call a committed student. Turns out, she’s a very committed flirt.
“Oh, Ethan. You’re still here. You work so hard ,” she says in a Marilyn Monroe-esque breathless pant, leaning against the door frame. I don’t miss the emphasis on the last word.
The room is mostly dark, apart from the desk light I have trained on the manuscript I’m studying at the big table that runs down the centre of the space.
“It’s easier to concentrate when it’s quiet.” I don’t add that going home to an empty house has become harder and harder instead of easier.
Riley pushes away from the door and saunters towards me.
“Would you like some help? I could be your research assistant.”
She slides a hip onto the desk next to me, crosses her legs and tips her head, looking up at me through her lashes in what I imagine she thinks is a coquettish way. Jesus. Coquettish? I sound like my grandmother.
I slide the tray holding the delicate manuscript away from her encroaching arse with a frown.
“No need. Thanks. I’m preparing major essay questions. Best to keep them confidential.” Of course, I’ve discussed ideas with Sadie, but I wouldn’t trust Riley not to blab. Like her flirting, her commitment to gossip has an inverse correlation to her commitment to work.
I focus again on the manuscript, hoping my brush-off was sufficiently obvious.
I overestimated her. Or maybe it’s underestimated?
“I could get you some dinner. You must be hungry.” Her hand lands on my arm, fingers trailing up from my wrist to my elbow.
Fuck. This is getting awkward. I focus on the most obvious point.
“You can’t bring food or drinks in here.”
She shifts a little closer. Her hand is now on my shoulder. Playing with the collar of my shirt.
“Oh, that’s right. Why don’t we go out and get dinner, then? There’s a yummy Japanese place almost across the road.” There’s not. It’s a good five to ten minutes away by car, and there’s no way I’m getting in a car alone with her.
I drop my shoulder out from under her hand and shift away again.
“I have work to do, Riley.” I’ve used the disappointed father voice I picked up from listening to Dad with Will and Ben over the years. For most people, that would be enough. Not Riley.
“Everyone needs to eat. We could get to know—”
Whatever she was about to say is cut off by the ringing of my phone. Thank Christ.
It’s my brother. I give Riley a look I hope says I’d like some privacy , which doesn’t seem to penetrate, and turn away.
“Hey, Will. What can I do for you?”
“Just checking in. Seeing how you’re doing.” He calls me at least once a week. It’s nice. Also, slightly annoying.
“Oh, no. Sure. Of course. I can come right now.” I look back at Riley and shrug.
“What? Are you drunk? What are you talking about?” Will is understandably confused.
“No, it’s no problem at all. Be there in twenty minutes.” And I hang up.
I stand and start carefully packing away the manuscript I was working on.
“Sorry. Family emergency.” I give Riley a gentle push towards the door.
“Oh, do you need moral support? I don’t have plans. I could come with you.”
This girl just won’t quit.
“No. Thanks, anyway.” I flick off the light and stand in the doorway, waiting to close and lock it behind us.
“Raincheck then. Let me know when you’re free.” As she passes me, her hand skims across my abs. Low, low down on my abs. Unlike my response to Sadie, I can feel myself shrinking. Shrivelling.
I contemplate telling her to back off, but in my experience, ignoring these things is the best way to handle it. She'll get bored and give up. I hope.
I call Will back as soon as I’m in the car. He’s laughing before he even picks up.
“Did you just use me to get out of a situation, E?”
Fucker.
“Yes. Yes, I did. Thank you. Getting hit on by a PhD student is no joke.”
“Glad to be of service, Brother.” He’s still laughing as he hangs up.
Lesson learnt. Check Riley is not around before ever staying late again.
As part of my contract, I have to have a physical, which should’ve been completed weeks ago, but for some reason— possibly disinterest on my part—wasn’t. I therefore require a full eye exam. Including those hideous drops that make your pupils dilate and render you unable to see properly for several hours. Because I’m now, at the ripe old age of thirty-four, a geriatric, according to the insurance company.
When I arrive for the appointment at the optometrist on campus, they insist I need someone to pick me up afterwards. Apparently, their duty of care won’t allow them to let me wander around half-blind. So I call Jen.
“Sorry, Ethan. I have a budget meeting. But Sadie’s here. Or Riley. Do you want me to ask them?”
I shudder at the thought of what Riley might make of this request.
“No, don’t worry. I’ll give Sadie a call myself. I need to check on the class rescheduling anyway.”
I hate to ask it of Sadie, given how things stand, but in a choice between her and Riley, it’s no contest. Of course, Sadie being Sadie, doesn’t hesitate.
An hour later, I’m handing over my credit card—at least I hope it’s my credit card and not my driver’s licence or library card, it’s hard to tell—when my phone rings with the special ringtone I’ve set up for my brother. I almost don’t answer, but our relationship has been a bit tenuous since Jess died, so I think better of it. Repairing the damage I did when I lashed out at him is a high priority.
“Hey, Wee. Can I call you back in a couple of hours? I’ve …” I look over to see Sadie already sitting in one of the visitors’ chairs.
“No. You can’t call me back,” he interrupts. “It’s happening.”
“What’s happening?” The drops in my eyes are disorienting me, and Will’s tension isn’t helping. I lean on the counter and close my eyes for a moment.
“The babies.” That gets me standing straight and opening my eyes.
“What? Isn’t it a bit early?” I didn’t think they were due for a week or two, but what would I know about pregnancy and childbirth?
“No, right on time, but that’s not the problem. The problem is we’re in Mum and Dad’s barn.”
“What do you mean you’re in Dad’s barn?” Again, don’t know much about childbirth, but a barn seems like an odd place to be. Although, we are talking about Freyja and my brother. Odd is standard practice for them.
“I mean, we’re in the fucking barn. Freyja was checking on the birthing cows and went into labour.” Only Freyja would be checking on cows days before her twins are due.
“And you’re calling me?” Perhaps a medical doctor, rather than an academic one, would be more appropriate, I think, but have the sense not to say. He’s strung out enough without me giving him attitude.
“No other fucker is answering their phone. What the hell use is a mobile if you don’t answer it?”
I hear a low moan.
“Was that Freyja?”
“No. That was a cow. She’s giving birth too. Focus, E. We don’t have time to get to the hospital. I need you to gather the family and get down here … oh, Jesus. Gotta go.”
And the line goes dead.
I’m pretty good at keeping my emotions off my face, but this is an extreme case.
“What’s wrong?” Sadie jumps up out of the seat where she’s been flicking through a pile of magazines so old they could rival the stratification of an Egyptian tomb.
“That was my brother. His wife’s just gone into labour. With twins. In a barn.”
Will has asked me to gather the family and I can’t even see enough to make a call.
“A barn? Oh my God. Is there anything I can do?” Sadie reaches out, takes the card and receipt from the receptionist, and starts to lead me towards the door, elbow cocked out for me to take as though I’m an octogenarian.
“I’m not that blind,” I start, and then immediately prove myself wrong by stumbling. I’m having trouble with depth of field, and the floor seems to be rolling. “Okay, maybe I am. I can’t see my phone. I need to call my mother. Or father.”
Sadie takes the phone, and while we wait for the lift I give her the code. She flicks expertly to Favourites and tries my mother, then my father. Neither of them answers.
One after another, we leave messages at offices or on mobiles for my brother, my sister, and their partners. This is damned frustrating.
“Fuck. I have to get to Bangalay. Now.” I stop at the entrance to the Ancient History building.
“Bangalay? That explains the barn. Isn’t that down the coast?”
“Yep. About two hours away. And I can’t drive.”
There’s no more than a nanosecond of hesitation from Sadie.
“We cancelled lectures for today because of your eyes. I can drive you.”
On any other day, in any other circumstances, my answer would be hell no. Spending two hours in a car with Sadie? And then being stuck in Bangalay with her for who knows how many hours—or, God forbid—days? That’s just asking for trouble. But it’s either accept her help or let my brother down, and that’s something I won’t ever do.
Sadie doesn’t wait for an answer. She nudges me onto the bench next to the revolving door.
“Wait here. I’ll get your keys. I think we should take your car. Mine’s not … entirely roadworthy.” I remember the battered red hatchback. Yes. Best take mine.
She’s back with my keys, laptop satchel and jacket in no time.
“I’ll pull the car around to the front, so you don’t have to navigate the carpark. Back in a sec.”
I sit with my phone in my hand, feeling anxious and useless. And thankful Sadie has taken control.