Is it Tori? It seems a bit early for a spur-of-the-moment midnight party, and to be honest, I don’t know that I’m in the moodfor one. Besides, I didn’t see anything in the Midnight Memories WhatsApp group. Unless I’ve been kicked out of it. Who knows? Wow, even I’m getting sick of my negativity at this point, but everything really is utterly crap.
I groan with irritation as whoever it is knocks again, I stand up, open the door, and freeze.
Am I seeing things? Did I actually fall asleep, and now I’m dreaming, or is that actually Henry standing outside my door, his hair still damp, wearing joggers and his blue school hoodie?
He’s sending me urgent messages with his eyes, holding his finger to his lips and nodding to one side. Down the empty corridor.
I open my mouth but don’t say anything.
“Not for long,” he whispers, and too bad for me, his voice is still out of this world.
It takes me a few seconds to come back to life, slip my bare feet into my sneakers, pull on a jumper, and reach for my key. Before I know it, I’m walking beside Henry away from my room. By now, I’ve got the motion-sensor business down pat, along with the fact that once we get out to the stairway, we’re pretty much safe to talk. But Henry doesn’t say anything, so I don’t either.
We reach a darkened corridor and switch on our phone torches at the same time. Our place for nighttime strolls, and oh, God, I’ve missed it. I didn’t know how much I’d missed it.
“What’s going on?” I ask eventually, when things are getting silly. There must be some reason he’s picked me up out of the blue for a late-night walk, even though we’re avoiding each other. Or I’m avoiding him. Whichever. We both know it’s notworking. “Henry,” I repeat when he doesn’t reply. “Is everything all right?”
His eyes glance nervously over my face. Even in this dim light, I can see how keyed-up he is. He clears his throat quietly. “Yes. I just wanted to... I have to tell you something.”
“And it couldn’t wait till morning?”
“No, Emma.” He sounds so insistent that I hold my breath. “It couldn’t.”
“OK.” I stop. “What is it?”
Henry looks as though he’s working out his next words very precisely while not taking his eyes off me. “Well, so... I know you told me everything in confidence and I promise I haven’t breathed a word to anyone else, but the other day, when my sister was here for a visit, we talked about your dad.”
Everything within me goes numb as Henry continues.
“I’m really sorry. I hope you’re not pissed off with me. I thought she might know something. That Mum and Dad might have mentioned his name or something. But Maeve says they never did—”
“Henry,” I interrupt him. There’s this suppressed trembling in my voice, and within a fraction of a second, it’s spread to my entire body. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Maeve called me today.” He coughs, and I forget to breathe. “A friend of hers had heard of him. She’s from Glasgow, and she says he’s doing a gig. It’s not being advertised online anywhere, but she’d seen a poster.”
“When is it?” I whisper. My pulse is racing.
“On Friday.” Henry pauses. “In a tiny pub, but, yeah... I guess he’ll be there.”
I’m trying to get my thoughts together. My dad. In Glasgow.
“How—how far is it from here to...?”
“An hour and a half,” says Henry. “If we left before dinner, we could get the train to Glasgow from Edinburgh. The last bus back here goes at midnight. I looked it up just now.”
“That... that’s not allowed, is it? Being out so late...”
“No. But I can ask Tori and Sinclair if they’ll cover for us. Nobody will notice.”
I swallow. “Us? You mean...?”
“I’m coming with you.” Henry’s eyes are dark green as he stares at me hard. “Well, if you want me to, that is.”
19
Henry
It’s a dingy pub in northeast Glasgow, and I don’t know what I’d been expecting—long queues at the door, endless arguments with bouncers to persuade them to let us in even though the place was rammed and the concert was sold out?
