I jump up and run out of the room. I have to ask Theo for a lift to Edinburgh.
“Theo?”
There’s no one in the kitchen either. Is he out? I cast my mind back over our last conversation and try to remember if he’d mentioned going to a lecture or similar. Then I catch sight of someone through the window. Theo’s sitting out in the garden, in the cold. Smoking, maybe. His only vice, and one that Maeve never missed a chance to comment on.
He lifts his head as I open the back door and walk toward him.
“Another five minutes off your life,” I say, because that’s what Maeve always said. The words taste stale on my tongue. Theo wipes his face with his sleeve. Just for a moment. But his eyes are red.
I stop. Has he been crying?
“I guess so,” he mumbles, stubbing out the cigarette, but his voice is rough.
“Are you OK?” I ask, cautiously.
“Fine.” He straightens up and tries to smile. “Hay fever,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the garden.
I don’t nod. It’s December. And this is the moment when I understand that Theo’s grieving. I knew it in my head. But it’s only now that it seems real.
In the hospital in Nairobi, at Maeve’s funeral, through all the weeks after her death—maybe I was just too busy with my own pain to get that it wasn’t any easier for him, even if it looked that way from the outside. But now I do.
“Whoa, that excuse is so lame, it could be one of Maeve’s memes.”
Theo’s lips twitch, but his eyes are glistening again. “Yeah, I guess so.” He clears his throat. “Let’s go indoors.” Once we’re back in the house, he asks, “Did you want something?” and I suddenly remember why I’d been looking for him.
“I’m allowed back to school tomorrow,” I say.
Theo’s face brightens. “Seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah. And I have to get to the airport. Emma’s flying back to Germany later and I was hoping—”
“When’s her flight?” Theo interrupts.
“Five,” I say.
“Good.” He nods toward my joggers. “Get dressed properly and I’ll drive you.”
37
Emma
At the airport, I did run into Henry, straight into his arms, where he held me for a moment so that he could explain that he was still seriously angry about my idiotic actions, and then kiss me. I could feel his lips on mine for the whole flight, and although I was in Frankfurt, my thoughts were constantly with him. We Skyped every day.
I briefly considered messaging Isi and seeing if she wanted to meet up, but then I decided I’d be better off investing my time in the schoolwork I was missing.
By the time I fly back to Edinburgh on Sunday evening, I feel like I’ve been away for a month. Henry meets me at the airport, because he’s crazy. After wing time, he creeps into my room. It’s traditional.
“And he seriously never apologized to him?” he asks again as I tell him the story of Mr.Ward and my dad once more, but face-to-face this time. I shake my head. “That’s wild.” He absentmindedly doodles a little pattern on my arm with his index finger. I lift my head a little way off his chest so that Ican look at him. “But it explains why Mr.Ward was so weird to you,” he says.
“It really does,” I say. “Has he said anything about it all?”
“Not to me, but he’s more unbearable than ever. Apparently, he has to answer to the school authorities, but even Sinclair hasn’t been able to get anything else out of his mum. By the way, the others are super-pissed-off that we all have to do the maths exam again. Don’t take any notice if there are snarky comments tomorrow.”
Really, I could hardly care less. I totally get it—I wouldn’t be thrilled myself—but at the moment, all that matters is that Henry and I are both still at this school. And that he seems kind of more together since his time with his brother.
“How was it at Theo’s?” I ask.
“Fine,” Henry says. “No, really. We talked about Maeve. Not much, but by our standards it was quite a lot. And he’s been in touch since I’ve been back here.”
