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She had been living in Edinburgh for just over a year then, but the city was still strange to her, and she had not explored the countryside around it at all. Let’s go for a picnic, Will had said. Get out of the city. I hear Tantallon Castle is beautiful. Will didn’t have the bike back then, and they went by train, the same line she is traveling now.
She remembers the way he spread the rug out over the short sheep-cropped turf, the carefully packed sandwiches, the homemade lemon drizzle cake, the silhouette of the castle dark against the pale blue sky. Are you happy? he had asked, and her heart had contracted with a love so intense she had been almost afraid of it. Afterwards they had climbed down a narrow rocky path to a deserted beach and swum, just the two of them, in the icy water of the North Sea, and then they had made love on the fine-grained sand in the Scottish sunshine and after, as she lay there in Will’s arms, feeling his racing heart slow beneath her cheek, she had thought, I am happy. For the first time in years, maybe for the first time since April died, I’m happy.
If only she could hold on to that feeling—to her love of Will, to that brief moment of perfect connection and peace. But as the train picks up speed and the line swings inland, the memory slips through her fingers like the fine white sand, faster and faster the more she tries to hold on to it.
She changes trains in London, and finds a seat on the Oxford service, staring out the window as the train snakes through west London. She had been half expecting a sense of familiarity or déjà vu, but of course the truth is that she only made this journey a handful of times as a student. Once for the open day, a second time for her interview at Pelham, and then again after she came back from Christmas—the time she met Ryan at the station. She doesn’t remember staring out the window then, but she must have done, and it’s strange to think that the last time she saw these buildings and bushes and fields was one of the last times she was truly carefree. It was before. Before everything changed.
When she arrives in Oxford she waits for everyone else to get off the train so that she can manhandle her suitcase down the steps in peace, but she’s surprised when she reaches the carriage door to find a young man waiting there for her, his hand held out.
“Here, let me take your case.”
“Oh, no, seriously, I’m fine,” Hannah says. She’s momentarily confused—why is he acting like she’s an old lady? Then she looks down and realizes. He has seen her bump. The knowledge gives her a strange jolt—she is now visibly, undeniably pregnant in a way even strangers can’t miss.
“Thanks,” she says at last and holds out the handle of her case. “Thank you very much.”
He takes it, swings it easily to the ground, and then extends his hand politely to assist her too.
Hannah wants to laugh as she puts one hand on his arm. How do you think I get up a whole flight to my flat without your assistance? she wants to ask him, but at the same time she’s touched. He’s seen something vulnerable in her, and he wants to take care of her, and that’s both reassuring and, at the same time, a little unnerving.
* * *
THE TAXI DROPS HER OUTSIDE an imposing stone building and Hannah walks in, looking around her as she does.
“Can I help you, madam?” a woman behind the check-in desk asks, and Hannah nods.
“Um, yes. I have a room. Hannah de Chastaigne. That’s C-H-A-S-T—”
“Ah, yes, I have it,” the woman breaks in with a smile. “A suite for two nights, is that correct?”
“A suite?” Hannah says, momentarily taken aback. “I booked a classic double.”
“I upgraded you,” says a voice from behind her, and she turns to see November grinning at her. “Don’t be annoyed!”
“November,” Hannah says, exasperated. “I can’t—you’re only here because I suggested it.”
“I’m here,” November says severely, “because I asked you to meet with me, and because I rudely inveigled myself onto your trip. And I’m not taking no for an answer. Plus, it’s already done. Ask the check-in lady.”
“It’s true,” the woman behind the desk says with a smile, delighted at being a part of this benevolent conspiracy. “It’s all paid for.”
“November!” Hannah says, but helplessly, with a laugh, and November gives her a droll little wink that is so purely April that Hannah’s heart tugs inside her.
“One person, is that right?” the check-in woman says, and Hannah nods, while at the same time wishing Will could have been here. A suite! It might be practically their last chance to live it up before the baby arrives.
Up in the room she stands, taking it all in, while the nice porter shows her how to work the lights and open and close the balcony doors. After he’s gone she lies down on the bed for a moment, luxuriating, and then sends Will a series of WhatsApp pictures, with the message Wish you were here!
She’s just considering what to do next when there’s a knock at the door. When Hannah opens it, November is standing outside, looking, if possible, even more beautiful than earlier.
“Hi,” she says with a broad smile. “I thought I’d come up and talk about plans. It’s…” She glances at her phone. “Almost four. We’re meeting Emily for dinner, is that right?”
“That’s right.” Hannah nods. “Seven p.m. At her flat.”
“Then we’re going on the Pelham tour tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes, then tea with Dr. Myers afterwards.”
November nods. Her face is sober.
“So what—” she starts, but Hannah’s phone buzzes in her hand, and glancing at it, she sees it’s Will.
