“Well, hokay…” Emily said now, with the air of someone ending the conversation. “Better get back to the grind. What time are you leaving?”
“The play starts at eight and I should think it’s probably a fifteen-minute walk… so maybe say half seven? Are…” She paused, trying to think how to phrase her question. “Do you know if anyone else is coming?”
“Will must be. I don’t suppose April would let him off the hook. And I assume Hugh, given he always does whatever April tells him to. Ryan tried to get out of it, said he had some rugby thing, but I said if I was suffering through it, the least he could do was support me. I’d better text him and check he’s remembered. He’s going straight there.”
“So… we’ll walk over together?”
“Sure. Half seven at the main gate?”
“Actually—” Hannah began, and then stopped. She didn’t want to tell Emily the truth—that she almost never used the main gate now, unless she couldn’t avoid it. Neville never seemed to leave the Porters’ Lodge, and every time she came through the arched entrance he would appear out of the little back office and stand in the doorway of the lodge, arms folded, his eyes fixed on her all across the Old Quad, until she passed out of sight to the Fellows’ Garden. Hannah never looked back, never acknowledged his presence, but walking across Old Quad with his eyes fixed on her retreating back made her skin crawl, and each time she found herself fighting the urge to run.
The problem was, there was so little she could put her finger on. Since the night in her room he hadn’t said anything directly to her, but his silent surveillance was almost worse. And it wasn’t just the lodge. The other night, as she had been getting ready for bed, she had heard something outside. When she went to the window, there was a figure standing in the center of the quad, staring up at her. It was impossible to make out a face in the darkness, but it was hard to mistake that tall, broad slab of an outline for anyone else, and Hannah was sure in her heart that it was Neville, watching her as she got ready for bed.
She had torn the curtain across with shaking hands, making the curtain rings screech and rattle against the pole, wishing that April were home instead of out rehearsing. Since then she had kept her curtains closed, even in daylight. It’s like a tomb in here! motherly Sue, the scout, had said the following day when she came in to clean, but Hannah had just shaken her head and switched on the overhead light.
“Yes? No?” Em prompted now, breaking into her thoughts.
“Actually… let’s go out via the Cloade gate. It’s a bit closer.” That was more or less a lie, but if Emily thought so she didn’t call Hannah on it. “I’ll come and pick you up, shall I?”
“Okay,” Emily said. “Seven thirty. See you then.”
* * *
WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT THE theater, Hannah saw that April’s fears about playing to an empty room had been unfounded. With a quarter of an hour to go, the little auditorium was already almost full, and her promise to April to sit in the front row was going to be impossible to keep.
She was scanning the rows, looking for two seats together, when Emily nudged her and pointed to the far side of the room.
Hannah turned and saw Ryan standing up, waving an arm to and fro, pointing with his free hand to a couple of empty seats. Beside him was Hugh, bent over a textbook, presumably squeezing in a few extra minutes’ revision, and beside him—but here her stomach flipped.
Since the kiss last term, she had avoided Will’s company as much as possible. It hadn’t been easy, making sure she didn’t eat in the dining hall at the same time as him, or swerving away from an empty desk in the library when she saw him, head down, at the adjacent table. But this term it had become easier. Everyone was revising hard for prelims, and April’s rehearsals had meant she was almost never in their shared rooms, and so neither was Will.
Even when they were forced together—at formal hall, or for celebrations she couldn’t get out of—she had made sure they were never in close proximity, and she’d had the sense that Will was doing the same. Now, with Emily pushing past rows of people to the seats Ryan was saving for them, it seemed that there was no escape.
“Hey,” Ryan said as they made their way through the throng. “About bloody time. It’s been murder keeping these seats free.”
“Sorry,” Emily said, though she didn’t sound apologetic. “You know how it is, Coates. Places to go, people to see.”