Unfortunately, the best night of my life by far ends at some point. Ruby and I tried to go through it, but fell asleep around four in the morning, only to be startled up three hours later because we thought we had overslept and Ruby’s parents might be waiting outside the door. Fortunately, it was a false alarm, but we don’t have much time left.
It’s incredibly difficult for me to let Ruby go into her room. I don’t want to say goodbye to her, I keep pulling her close to me and kissing her as if I wouldn’t see her again for at least a month. We’ll meet again tomorrow at school at the latest and maybe even tonight if I manage to get away from home. The chances are even quite good: The fact that I was invited to St Hilda’s was tantamount to an insult to my father. He even suggested that Lydia and I swap places because, unlike me, she received an invitation from Balliol. Words like ‘shame’ and ‘good-for-nothing’ are still buzzing around in my head. I don’t think he’s interested in how my conversations went.
In the early morning I am picked up by Percy. He takes the suitcase from me and stows it in the trunk of the Rolls-Royce before he gets back in and we pick up Lydia. The partition is raised and the speaker is switched off, apparently he doesn’t feel like talking to me. This suits me quite well, because I can look at Ruby’s list again. I don’t know how realistic what is written on it really is, but at least it will always remind me of last night.
I’ve put on the gray shirt Ruby has been wearing until this morning, and her smell sticks to me. I feel like I can still taste her on my tongue, and I get goosebumps when I think of the way she moaned my name. I definitely want to repeat that. Preferably immediately.
When Lydia gets into the car with me, she immediately sees that something has changed. With narrowed eyes, she looks down at me and up again into my face. Then a knowing grin spreads across her face. ‘You look like you’ve had a great night.’ She knows me too well.
I fold the list back up and put it back in my wallet. It replaces the fuck card that I tore up and threw away while I was still in the dormitory.
‘Will I get details?’
The question surprises me. Even though Lydia recently confided in me about Mr. Sutton, we’re not exactly open with each other when it comes to our love life.
I look at her skeptically. ‘Since when have you been interested in what I do at night?’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘Since Ruby is the one you make out with.’
The word ‘making out’ seems to me to be absolutely inadequate for what is between Ruby and me. First, who says it was Ruby I spent the night with? And secondly, I thought you couldn’t stand her.’
Lydia rolls her eyes. ‘First of all, I’m not stupid. And secondly, I like them if you like them. Quite simply.’
‘That’s good. I think you won’t just see her at school in the future.’
Lydia’s mouth opens. ‘You’re serious about her?’
I can’t do anything about the smile that spreads on my face. The next moment, Lydia slaps my arm. ‘I don’t believe it! James!’
‘What?’
‘If Dad finds out about it, he’ll go crazy,’ she says, shaking her head. Her hand is still on my arm. She squeezes briefly. ‘But you look very happy. I’m happy for you.’
I didn’t know it would be like that. I didn’t know what it felt like to be in love, or that just the thought of Ruby would make my heart race. I’d love to tell Percy to go straight to her, because I’m afraid I can’t stand it a second longer without her.
‘What’s wrong with Percy?’ asks Lydia suddenly, as if she had read my mind. She speaks more quietly than before and nods in the direction of the driver’s cab.
‘I don’t know.’
‘He didn’t even ask me how it went,’ she murmurs.
‘You can tell me,’ I offer her, but Lydia wrinkles her nose.
‘You’re funny when you’re in love.’
I just grimace.
We spend the rest of the journey in amicable silence. Lydia is typing away on her phone, and I look out the window and think about last night. When we get home, I walk around the car to help Percy with the suitcases. He stops me with a wave of his hand and looks at me seriously.
‘You should go in, Mr. Beaufort.’ He hasn’t spoken to me so harshly since I spilled Coke on the newly installed back seat at seven. Percy looks back and forth between me and Lydia, then swallows hard and turns to the suitcases. Lydia and I look at each other confused and walk up the steps to the entrance.
‘What’s the matter with him?’ whispers Lydia, even though we’re already out of earshot.
‘I don’t know. Have you talked to Dad since yesterday?’
She shakes her head, and I unlock the door and enter the entrance hall next to her. Lydia puts her bag down on the small table that stands directly behind the door when Mary, one of our domestic helpers, enters the hall. When she discovers us, she turns pale. I’m just about to greet her when she turns around and hurries towards the salon. Lydia and I exchange another look. Together we walk through the hall and into the room where Mary has run.
Dad is standing in front of the fireplace. He has his back turned to us, but I can see that he is holding a glass of light brown liquid in his hand, even though it is not even noon. The fire in the fireplace crackles softly, and Mary murmurs something to him before she disappears again with quick steps.
‘Dad?’ I ask.
He turns around, his face expressionless, as I’m used to. Nevertheless, I have an uneasy feeling when I see the rings under his eyes.
‘Sit down.’ He points with his hand to the sofa with green velvet upholstery as he walks to the armchair right next to it.
I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what the hell is going on here. Lydia takes a seat while I continue to stand in the entrance to the salon and stare at my father. He puts the glass on and downs the rest of the Scotch that is in it. Then he puts it down on the side table.
‘Sit down, James.’ This is an order, no longer a request. But I can’t move from the spot. The tension is too great. Something happened, I felt it the moment I entered the house.
‘Where’s Mum?’ asks Lydia. She still sounds forcedly happy, as if she wants to mend the mood between Dad and me. But she must also know that something is wrong here.
‘Your mother had a stroke.’
My father sits leaning back in the armchair, his arms on the backrests and his legs crossed so that his ankle rests on his knee. His expression is steely. Unmoved. Just like always.
‘That . . . what… what do you mean?’ Lydia stammers.
‘Cordelia had a stroke.’ He repeats the words as if he had rehearsed them. ‘She’s dead.’
Lydia puts her hands in front of her mouth and sobs. It seems to me that I am not really present. My mind has separated from my body, and I look at the scene from somewhere else entirely.
Dad continues to talk, but I only understand a few snippets of words.
Vessel burst … arrived too late… Hospital… do nothing more for them.
His mouth moves, but his words mingle with the plaintive sound that Lydia utters. In addition, there is a sound. A fast and loud gasp.
I think it comes from me.
I press my hand firmly on my chest and try to suppress it. It doesn’t work. I’m breathing faster and faster, but still can’t seem to breathe. All the tips I’ve read about panic on the internet can’t help me at this moment. My body switches to autopilot and causes me to break out in a cold sweat.
Mum is dead.
She’s dead.
My father doesn’t pull a face. Maybe it’s a bad joke after all. As punishment for not being invited to Balliol.
‘When?’ I manage to breathe heavily. I’m getting dizzy. The ground beneath my feet is shaking. I have to hold on somewhere, but I don’t know how to command my arms to move.
My father looks at me, his gaze is unfathomable. ‘On Monday afternoon.’
My heart. It is guaranteed to stop or explode in my chest at any moment. At first I don’t realize what my father has said because I’m too busy trying to get air into my lungs. But after a few choppy breaths, the meaning of his words reaches me.
On Monday afternoon.
Today is Wednesday.
‘Let me sum this up,’ I manage in a trembling voice. ‘Mum had a stroke two days ago, and you’re only telling us now?’
I shouldn’t have to ask that question. I should rather go to my sister and take her in my arms. We should cry together. But it doesn’t seem true to me. It still feels like this isn’t really happening to me – it’s happening to someone else who briefly gained power over my body, and I’m just watching. Powerless and completely stunned.
Dad drums his fingers on the back of the chair. ‘I didn’t want you to spoil the interviews.’
I can’t explain what happens next. It’s like a blazing bolt of lightning strikes my head. The next moment I jump up to my father and ram my fist into his face. My blow is so violent that the chair tips over backwards and my father and I fall to the ground. Lydia lets out a shrill scream. Something slams to the ground and splinters. Again my fist hits my father’s indifferent visage. Blood spurts from his nose, and a bone in my hand crunches dangerously. There are shards all around us. My hand burns and throbs, but I still swing out again.
‘James, stop!’ screams Lydia.
Someone grabs me from behind and tears me away from my father. I fight against the firm grip like a wild animal. I want to make my father pay. For everything.
Dad gets up from the floor with Lydia’s help. Blood runs from his nose and one corner of his mouth. He touches his face with his fingers and looks at the dark red. Then he looks at Percy, who is still holding me back. ‘Get him out of here until he calms down.’
Percy pulls me around and drags me down the hallway. His arms are wrapped so tightly around my chest that I can’t breathe at all. He drags me down the hallway, bumping into a chest of drawers and breaking something else. Only outside Percy drops me off again. I turn around and want to go back to the house immediately.
‘Mr. Beaufort, stop,’ Percy says, grabbing me by the shoulders. I push his hands away and give him a thrust in the chest.
‘Out of the way, Percy.’
‘No.’ His voice is determined, and his fingers dig firmly into the fabric of my jacket.
‘He kept it from us. You didn’t tell us,’ I manage to say. Again I push him. ‘My mother is dead, and you didn’t tell me.’ The words feel like acid, and suddenly the burning is everywhere: in my mouth, my throat, my chest and my eyes. My vision blurs.
‘My mother is dead.’
A dull pain spreads rapidly through my body. It hurts so much. I don’t think I can stand it. He brings me to my knees, and I still can’t breathe properly. It has to stop. I have to silence this pain.
My hands shake so violently that they slip off Percy’s jacket. The next moment I turn around and walk towards the garage.
‘Mr. Beaufort!’
I make a defensive hand gesture. Percy follows me as I run into the garage. My feet carry me to my car. I dig the key out of my pants with trembling hands and tear open the driver’s door. The edges of my field of vision are getting darker, and it feels like I’m going to tip over at any moment. All the same. Simply everything doesn’t matter. I start the car. Percy stands right in front of it. That doesn’t matter either. I press the accelerator pedal and he jumps out of the way at the last moment. I drive off with screeching tires while wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand.
