“Henry was called out of biology just now. He had to go to the head’s office, and he didn’t come back.”
“What? Why? What’s happened, Grace?”
“I don’t know, but apparently his brother’s here. I saw Theo’s car in the courtyard.”
She doesn’t continue, but she doesn’t have to. “So that means... something to do with his parents?”
Grace gives a helpless shrug. “No idea. I heard that he’s in his room, packing. I just thought you should know.”
“Thanks, Grace,” I manage to say.
My body feels weirdly numb as I turn away. As I go, I reach for my phone, but there’s no message from Henry. Of course there isn’t. If something’s happened, no way will he have room in his head to message me. Shit, don’t let it be anything bad.
I start running, without consciously thinking. My steps echo in the hallways. The closer I come to the east wing, the emptier they are. My heart is pounding in my throat as I reach Henry’s floor and hurry down the empty corridor. His door is open, and a young man is standing there, his phone pressed to his ear. He’s tall, sporty, and slim in a Henry-like way. He’s the guy from the old rugby team photos. Theo Bennington. An older version of Henry, and as white as a sheet. His eyes flit over me as he makes his call, I can’t take in what he’s saying, but none of it matters. I have to get to Henry.
I mumble a quiet “Hello” as I step past Theo into the room. I don’t think he even sees me.
Henry’s stuffing things at random into a bag.
“Henry?”
He turns.
As I look into his face, I know this is bad. He’s not crying. It’s pure shock. Compressed lips and a blank gaze.
I drop my bag onto the floor and walk over to him. “What’s—”
He interrupts me. “She’s dead.” His voice has never been as dull, and his eyes just kind of look through me. “Maeve. They’re saying she’s dead...”
“What?” It’s like a punch in the guts. “Henry, what’s happened?”
He jumps, and at that moment, he looks at me properly for the first time. His shoulders twitch as I lay both hands on his arms.
“I don’t know, it’s... They found her in the camp and took her to the hospital in Nairobi. She was tired yesterday evening, wanted an early night because she had a headache. They think it was cerebral malaria. They found her too late, this morning, in her tent. But I don’t know, I...” Henry’s slurring, mumbling, speaking too fast, and when he falls silent, I pull him to me. His whole body is trembling and I want to do something—Ihaveto do something—but I don’t know what.
Malaria. I know what it is, but at the same time, I don’t. A fever, something to do with mosquitoes, and you can die from it. I’ve heard of it. But so suddenly? How is it possible? How can his sister be dead? It has to be some kind of mistake.
But then his brother wouldn’t be here to pick him up, would he? I don’t understand a thing. I want to say so much, but I can’t speak. I can only hold Henry tightly and wonder what I should do.
Are you sure? Could it be some kind of mix-up? What do your parents say?Holy shit, maybe this is all a really horrible nightmare.
It’s not a dream. It’s reality, in which Henry’s brother turns to us and I let Henry go.
“They were able to book us onto the flight,” he says, and I get it. They’re flying to Kenya. Theo’s eyes flit over me. “We have to hurry, Henry. The plane to London goes in an hour and a half.”
26
Henry
Nothing bad has ever happened to me before. I’ve grown up in countries where I don’t speak the language and which are dangerous enough that travel warnings advise against going there. I’ve lived in areas where there are tropical diseases and other health risks.
I’ve never worried about it. After all, things have always turned out fine. I never had a pet that died. My grandparents are all still alive. I’ve only experienced grief and shock in books and films. I was affected by them. Sometimes they made me cry if they were superemotional, but I never really related to them. I turned the TV off, shut the book, and forgot what they felt like. There was no room for them in my life. Everything was lightheartedness.
Naivety.
Peace of mind.
This isn’t a film. It’s real life, and I’m getting off the plane beside Theo. Nine hours in cramped seats with this oppressive fear in my guts. Nine hours with no internet, nine hours in which I imagined Mum calling and saying, “False alarm.” That it wasn’tMaeve. Or that she woke up, that she’s tired and confused but she’s going to get better. That she got lucky. That we all got lucky. Nine hours when I wanted to cry but couldn’t.
