Page 61 of Last Letter Home
She nodded, comforted by the concern in his eyes, the fact he cared. ‘You’ve been ace today. Thank you.’ She wrinkled her nose at him, then glanced down, idly noticing fine hairs on his strong, brown forearms.
‘No problem, glad I could help. I hope we hear good news of Mrs Clare soon. At least she was conscious.’
‘Yes.’ A vision of Robyn’s face came to her and she remembered how she’d been struck by her expression. ‘Luke,’ she said, straightening, ‘I’ve remembered something. It was the way she looked at me as they put her into the ambulance. Did you see?’ Luke’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. ‘It was as though she wanted to tell me something.’
‘Really?’ he said. ‘I thought she just appeared confused.’
‘No,’ she said, more certain now. ‘There was something.’ She prodded a teaspoon with her finger absently, wondering what the something could be.
There was silence for a moment, then, to her surprise, Luke reached out and stroked the back of her hand. She felt his calloused fingers circling her slender forearm and froze in shock.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said in a teasing voice.
Wordlessly, she looked up at him, taking in his intense expression as he scanned her face. He seemed to be fighting against it, but the passion she read there was unmistakeable. Part of her, the animal part, wanted to respond, but the thought of Aruna arose in her mind and she forced herself to withdraw her arm. Whatever was happening wasn’t right. She rose, pushing back her chair, and began to busy herself, washing up mugs, stuffing cutlery noisily into the rack. When she glanced back at Luke he was still sitting at the table, his fingers stroking his chin, wearing a faraway expression. His eyes met hers and, flinching at the look of anger she shot at him, he turned away. He’d thoroughly got the message, she saw.
‘I’d best be going,’ he said with a studied casualness, and gave her a subdued smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘The parents have a family friend over this evening. I promised Mum I’d be there.’
‘Duty calls. Lulu, say goodbye to Luke.’ Lulu ceased panting and gave a strangled whine.
Though she stood arms crossed in the narrow hallway, keeping her distance, Briony took the trouble to thank him properly. ‘You’ve been great, Luke. I can’t think how I’d have managed today without you.’
‘No problemo. Pleasure as always.’ He opened the door and hesitated as though he would speak, then apparently decided against it. ‘See you soon, eh? You’ll be back in London at the weekend, won’t you?’
She nodded. ‘And a lot to do on the book before then.’
‘Hint taken. I’ll be over sometime to look at the walled garden, but I expect you’ll be busy.’
‘I expect I will.’ She smiled at him, sadly. Although he’d probably not meant to, by the work of a moment he’d broken something important between them. Trust.
‘Bye!’ he said softly, pulled the door to behind him and was gone.
Thirty
October, and at Duke’s College the new term was underway. The grand corridors echoed to the sounds of voices in many languages, to bright footsteps and easy laughter as colourfully dressed students poured out of lecture theatres, or lounged in noisy groups on sunny quads and blocked the steps of the colonnades so that Briony had to squeeze past to reach her classes.
She loved this time of the academic year. The returning students were mostly cheerful after the break, full of hope and enthusiasm as they greeted their friends. She took pleasure in helping the homesick freshers and seeing them gain confidence. The only downside was that, what with time spent on teaching, advising individual students, attending departmental meetings and organizing a special project, a conference for the spring, she was now too busy to pursue any research of her own.
She’d only just managed to submit the rewrites of her new book by the mid-September deadline, and was awaiting her editor’s response. Goodness knows what questions would then be thrown at her. She’d have to devote evenings and weekends to it until it was done.
She’d had no time to follow up all she’d discovered in the summer about her grandfather. Sarah’s letters, all of which she’d read and transcribed now, lay stashed in a drawer in her flat. Her father and stepmother had been away on their Greek island holiday, and there hadn’t been an opportunity to discuss with her dad what she’d so far found out about her grandfather.
One Monday evening at half-past six, Briony was still in her office. Outside, darkness was falling and as she reached to pull down the blind, bright white lights snapped on in the rooms of the science building opposite and she stood for a moment, struck by the series of tableaux within, of students in lab coats and latex gloves attending structures like giant marble runs or peering at computer screens.
A shy knock on the door made her start. ‘Come in,’ she called as she lowered the blind and turned to see the neatly groomed figure of the new assistant in the Department Office. She was clutching a package.
‘Hello, Debbie.’
‘Sorry to interrupt, Dr Wood, but I’m locking the office now and you didn’t collect this.’ Debbie held out the package, which Briony took, half-remembering an email about a special delivery. She glanced at it without much interest. It was wrapped in old-fashioned brown paper and held together with thick strips of parcel tape. There was something hard and squarish inside, a book possibly. A small corner of it had pierced the paper.
‘Thanks,’ she said, dropping it onto a small table already crowded with books and paper. ‘I’m afraid I forgot; it’s been that sort of day.’
‘No problem, Dr Wood. Have a good evening.’ Debbie retreated, closing the door with a respect that Briony knew would wear off after a few weeks.
She shut down her computer. She was meeting Aruna for early supper, having not seen her for ages. The Soho bistro they’d agreed on was only ten minutes’ walk. This had made her complacent and she was already late.
As she reached to unhook her jacket from the door, her glance fell on the package. The word Personal had been printed on it in laborious black letters. She picked it up. No, not a book, it wasn’t heavy enough. She started to pick at the plastic tape, but it was stubbornly unyielding and at that moment her phone pinged so she put down the parcel and fished in her pocket. The text gleamed in the yellow light.
Where are you?
