Page 44 of The Start of the Story
He turned away from the screen, slumping his shoulders and with his head falling forwards, as though he’d received the biggest rejection in history. ‘But I,’ he said, and, in contrast to his previous tone, his voice was very quiet now, ‘Ifeel stupid, Rowan. All the brothers now, they’ve managed to find someone to take them on, with their bloody daftStar Warsslippers and their addiction to Lego, two married and Finn engaged to that wee girl from Dungannon. While I find myself someone, the family all approve, it’s all going great – and then she turns out to be married with kids! I might be a professor and have an encyclopaedic knowledge of Roman building techniques, but I’m still a fecking idiot where women are concerned.’
‘You’re not.’ I tried to keep my voice quiet too. ‘But are you telling me that this is all about sibling rivalry? That you want to find yourself a partner just to keep up with your brothers?’ There was something so intense about him right now that I felt a stab of pity. Hereallywanted me to understand why he’d fallen for Saoirse.
‘Of course,’ he said, but it sounded as though he might be smiling, only a little, but still.
‘So you were lonely and feeling left out, and Saoirse – well, she’s very pretty. Then she told you that she wanted exactly what you wanted… why wouldn’t you fall for that? You’re a man, you’re not in danger from being alone with someone, so you’d no need to do any searches, youbelievedher. That’s not stupidity, Connor, honestly. It’s wanting something so hard that you can’t help but go after it when it’s put in front of you.’
He took in a breath so deep that I worried in case he burst out of his coat, but then he blew it back in a sigh that told me how bad he felt more than any number of words.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It’s not sibling rivalry, not really. I mean, I’m a professor, and that’s ranked pretty highly in the family. It must be hard for you to understand as you’re an only child.’
He’d remembered, then. ‘Well, yes, but Chess has got two sisters, and I know far,farmore about the Great Boyfriend War of 2022 than I could ever want to.’ I watched him now as he slumped onto the loveseat, his coat flopping as though it too were exhausted. ‘But how come you’re lonely? I mean, looking like you do, you can’t be short of female company, surely?’
He looked up at me for a moment too long.If this were a romantic movie,I thought,he’d stand up and kiss me now.Then, horrified at the thought, I took two steps back until my legs were against the desk.
He didn’t stand up. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Ithink I’m okay, women seem to differ on that point. Maybe I work too hard.’
‘You can be a bit single-minded about Romans,’ I said, not sure whether I felt relieved or not about his non-standing state.
‘I can that.’ He nodded gravely, staring at the floor. ‘And I’m getting a bit old for the partying and the running round town attwo in the morning. It’s all very well for a while, but I’m more for the sitting in front of the fire with a well-crafted dinner, a good bottle of red and a conversation.’
‘About Romans,’ I put in helpfully.
‘I’ve got other pet topics.’ He glanced up and saw me, backed into the corner. ‘I’m not bad at medieval religion and I’ve a working knowledge of Viking incursions.’
‘Anything to say aboutStrictly, Cosmopolitan,or Tom Hardy?’
Another small smile. ‘Not notably.’
‘You’re no good for Chess, then. She likes her men to have popular culture at their fingertips. Being able to talk about popular culture two millennia ago probably won’t cut it.’
The air felt thick all of a sudden, as though it were setting, like jelly, or icing up. We’d already looked at one another for too long, freeze-framed into a moment, and the adrenaline fired another warning flare into my nervous system.
‘Rowan…’ Connor said, standing up now, and taking a small step towards me.
‘We’ve left the dairy out,’ I said suddenly. ‘On the side. We need to get it in the fridge.’ My voice sounded a bit breathless, as though I’d run round the room before speaking. ‘The… the butter and… things.’
With a swerve that any rugby fly half would have been proud of, I dashed around Connor and into the kitchen, where the fluorescent light buzzed like an extra layer of reality. I started to unpack the final couple of bags, trying not to think about what might have happened. Did I want it to happen? Did I wantanythingto happen with Connor?
No. No. He wasn’t Elliot. He wasn’t my lovely, sandy-haired, bristly cheeked husband, with his bad jokes, his calm accepting nature and his practicality. Connor was too lanky, too dark. Too sharp and bright and, besides, he was going back to Dublin. Ididn’t know what he’d intended when he’d said my name and looked at me as though I were someone he’d never seen before, but whatever it was, I didn’t want it.
Tomorrow couldn’t come quickly enough.
19
1915
They’d all seen the telegram arrive, the boy on his bicycle coming all the way from Pickering to deliver it. This was one of the worst things – nobody knew what to do. Should they go round, offer some comfort? Or pretend not to know yet, let Lilian break the news as she saw fit?
‘Let the poor girl be,’ Mrs Dobson said, settling her arms comfortably on the top of the pigsty. ‘We all know what it’ll be, her young man, that one from York as she was courting, he’s been shot down over France or somewhere. She’ll need a bit of time.’
But when Nell saw Lilian setting out to walk up onto the moor, she knew where she would be going.
‘Lil!’ Nell ran to catch her up but Lilian didn’t slow down. ‘Lil!’
‘I’m going up to the stone.’ Lilian didn’t sound herself at all. Her voice was broken and strange, as though she were an old woman now. ‘I have to go and tell them.’
Nell ran faster. ‘Lil!’
