“Well, that’s just it,” Dr. Myers broke in. “That’s what I’m trying to understand here. Because obviously if you’re saying, Ms.…？”
“Emily Lippman,” Emily said shortly.
“Ms. Lippman, that this is part of a pattern of inappropriate behavior, that’s quite a serious allegation, but I can’t see how this fits with that. From Hannah’s own admission it was a very dark night and she didn’t recognize Neville until he was actually tackling her. I’m not sure, under those circumstances, how Neville was supposed to have been targeting Hannah specifically. As far as I can see he just tackled a supposed intruder—maybe a little harder than necessary, but…”
“He broke into my room,” Hannah said. Her heart was thumping. “He came into my room while I was out—”
“And did anything inappropriate happen while he was there?”
“Fuck inappropriate, he shouldn’t have been in a goddamn student’s room in the first place!” Emily shouted.
Dr. Myers’s face changed at that. He held up a hand.
“Ms. Lippman, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to request that you lower your voice and if you swear at me again, I will be asking you to leave this office. It’s Hannah’s account I would like to hear. Hannah, did anything happen? When he came to your room?”
“He said he had a parcel,” Hannah said. Her throat was dry and she looked away from Dr. Myers now, out of the window. Her eyes were prickling again and she blinked hard, trying to squeeze back the tears that were threatening to fall. She would not, she would not cry in front of Dr. Myers. “He wouldn’t give it to me when I asked.”
“And did he have a parcel?”
Hannah said nothing. She shut her eyes and nodded.
“Well,” Dr. Myers said, in a slightly brisker, I’m sympathetic but this interview is coming to a close tone. “I’m very sorry you’ve had what was clearly a very unpleasant experience, but can I suggest that in the meantime you refrain from climbing over college walls and enter in the appropriate way like everyone else. Now, I’ll speak to Mr. Neville about this—”
“What?” Hannah broke in, horrified. “No! Please, no, don’t tell him I told you all this.”
“Well, I can’t address these—these allegations, without hearing Mr. Neville’s account of what happened,” Dr. Myers said. His expression was exasperated now, the sympathy receding further, and he paced to the window, turning his back on them both, before returning to the desk to perch on the corner, one thigh hooked over the edge, smiling with what was clearly an effort at being conspicuously understanding.
“Look, Hannah, the bottom line is, I can take this further if you would like me to. But not without talking to Mr. Neville to hear his version of events. Which is it to be?”
Hannah looked at Emily. She had her arms folded across her chest, plainly only just containing her fury, but didn’t speak, only raised her shoulders in a tight this is your decision kind of way.
Shit.
Dr. Myers consulted his watch. He did not make a pretense of hiding it.
“Can I think about it?” Hannah asked. Her voice sounded small and uncertain in her own ears. It did not sound like the voice of someone making a credible accusation.
“Certainly.” Dr. Myers stood up again, all warmth and bonhomie now. “Take your time.” He moved to the door, plainly signaling that the interview was over. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have to prepare for my ten o’clock. I’ll look forward to seeing you for our final tutorial next week, Hannah? Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Lippman.”
But as they filed out into the corridor Hannah knew, with a depressing certainty, that one thing was sure. She would not be back to Dr. Myers’s tutorial next week. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she could ever face him again.
AFTER
On the train back to Edinburgh she sits and stares out the window, replaying Ryan’s words over and over. Is this a joke?
A pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.
It’s nothing she didn’t know from her conversation with Geraint, but somehow, hearing it from Ryan’s mouth…
Was it real?
She could have drawn it on with a… with a biro for all I knew.
Fuck. Fuck. She rubs her face. Part of her wants to scrub away the memory of the conversation and all the poisonous suspicions it’s stirred up, but she knows she can’t. Not just because she can’t think of anything else, but because even if she were given the choice of magically erasing Ryan’s words from her memory, she wouldn’t do it. She can’t let this go. Because whether or not it’s true, whether or not even April, inveterate practical joker, would have been cruel enough to play this unforgivably harrowing hoax on Ryan, it is a missing piece of the puzzle which has finally turned up, out of the blue, throwing the whole existing pattern out of alignment.