“No,” she hears herself saying. “I want to come.”
She has come this far. She can’t turn back now.
As they walk around the edge of the quad, she feels a strange unreality taking over. They are walking—the three of them—to the site of Hannah’s worst ever experience, but as they crunch along the gravel it’s happier memories that crowd her mind. She remembers herself and Emily, picnicking on the banks of the Cherwell. She recognizes the bench where Ryan carved his name one summer night, and the archway to staircase 3 that some enterprising student taped up for a Rag Week prank. The sun is lowering in the sky, lights are coming on all around the quad. The figures beside her are dim in the gathering dusk. She could have slipped back in time—walking with April and Hugh, back to the set one winter’s night.
They follow Dr. Myers under the arch to staircase 7, and Hannah feels the stone beneath her feet, familiar even after ten years. There is the same momentary step into darkness before the lights flicker on up the staircase, the same slight delay. There is the same echo as they move upward. Dr. Myers has stopped his running commentary, as if he is not quite sure what to say. They pass rooms 1 and 2, where the slips of paper bearing the names of students have been replaced by ones reading STORES and ADMISSIONS 1, and then move up, landing by landing. Some of the doors stand open and inside Hannah can see not beds and students, but desks and administrators—all the myriad back-office functions of a busy college, hard at work.
On the top floor the door to the set is closed, and Dr. Myers pauses on the landing and gives a little rat-a-tat-tat.
“Come in,” calls a female voice with a slight Yorkshire accent, and Dr. Myers pushes on the door and enters, holding it with his hand so that Hannah and November can see past him. Inside there are two empty desks, a bunch of filing cabinets and box files, and a woman standing by the window putting on her coat.
“Oh, hello, Horatio. Can I help? I was just off.”
“Hello, Dawn. Dawn, this a former student of mine, Hannah.” He waves a hand at Hannah, and the woman nods politely, seemingly without recognition. “I was giving her a tour and she expressed a desire to see her old room. Are we disturbing you?”
“Not at all, as I say, I was just off. Would you lock up after me?”
“Of course.” Dr. Myers takes the keys she holds out and gives a little bow. “I will leave them at the lodge?”
“Ta, that’d be great. Sorry I can’t stay, got to pick up the kids from the minders. See you Monday! Nice to meet you ladies.”
“Have a good weekend, Dawn.”
Hannah stands back to let the woman leave, and then, after she’s gone, she steps forwards into the room, feeling the past close around her like a fist.
“You’ll find it’s rather different, I’m afraid,” Dr. Myers is saying, but his voice comes as if from a long way off, hardly breaking into her thoughts. This is where she, April, and the others played strip poker, the very first night they met. That mark on the windowsill was where April burned a hole in the oak with a lit joint. This—her hand touches the ancient wood of the doorway. This was her bedroom.
“Dr. Myers?” Her voice sounds odd in her own ears, too harsh and abrupt, but she can’t think of how else to ask. “Dr. Myers, could you—could you give us a moment alone?”
“Well I—” Dr. Myers flashes a look at the unattended laptops and files, and then, almost unwillingly, at the place on the floor where April’s body was found. There is a short silence as they all stare at the rug in front of the fire. Hannah wonders what he is thinking. Is he remembering what he did? Somehow here, in his presence, it’s harder to believe than ever. Surely there should be a sense of evil coming from a man who killed a young girl in cold blood? A sense of guilt?
But Hannah feels nothing. Nothing but the same immense sadness they all share.
Then, as if making up his mind, he nods.
“Yes. I’m sure I can do that. Take all the time you need.”
He backs out of the door, there is a moment’s silence as it closes behind him, and then Hannah hears November let out a trembling breath.
“So this is it.”
“This is it.”
“I—I wasn’t expecting to feel so—so, I don’t know—affected. I thought you might be shaken going back but I thought, I thought for me it would be just another room. But it—it’s not.”
“No,” Hannah says. “No, it’s not.”