Peter Hamilton: Misspent Youth

“What’s going to happen when you go to university?” He knew he was being unnecessarily cruel now, and simply didn’t care. Or maybe it was just a test, to see if they could talk. “Are you going to commute back here on the weekends?”

Annabelle looked out across the garden. “I’m not going to university. Not away to one, anyway. I’ve already signed for an online university course. That way I can hold onto everything I want to in my life. I can work, I can study, and I can be with Jeff.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“What? What don’t you believe?”

“You used to dream about making it out of here, out of Rutland. I admired you so much for that, for having that goal. The way you chased it was…awesome. Now you’re giving all that up.”

“I’m giving nothing up. I’ve got what I want, Tim. I’m sorry you can’t see that.”

It was his mother’s tone; that was how she talked to him. The little boy who doesn’t understand no matter how slowly and patiently it’s explained.

The voice actually shocked him. The condescension behind it; she’d gained a touch of something. Confidence, he supposed, always the twin of contentment. Annabelle would now be able to hold her own among the Rutland nonworking mothers’ club with no trouble at all. He could never have stayed with a girl like this, he knew. Maybe you had to have Dad’s personality and experience to cope with her.

“If that’s true, then I’m happy for you,” he said simply.

She studied him closely, as if suspecting some falsehood. “Tim, I know this is hard for you most of all, but I really do love Jeff. All I want now is for him to be happy.”

“He will be. He’s lucky to have you.”

“Yoni was right.” She grinned impishly. “You are so adorable.”

HE FOUND JEFF IN THE STUDY, bent over the drawer containing the desktop synthesizer. Just for an instant, as he walked in, he saw a flash of guilt on his father’s face. There was a giddy little moment when he recalled the last time he’d seen that expression on the same face.

Father and son stared mutely at each other.

The synthesizer ping ed. Jeff picked some capsules out of the dispenser tray.

“What are you cooking?” Tim asked. Anything to lighten the atmosphere.

Jeff ran a hand over his forehead, dabbing at the perspiration. “Just some neurofen. I’ve got a headache, and it feels like a cold coming on. I think it’s this damn air conditioning. It’s freezing in here.”

Tim, who’d never had a cold in his life, didn’t feel much sympathy. He closed the door. It was uncomfortably hot in the study.

Jeff sat behind the desk. “It’s good to see you. Looks like the dye’s almost gone.”

“Oh, that.” Tim’s hand went automatically to his neck. “Yeah. It comes out eventually.”

“How’s Vanessa?”

“Okay. I’ll probably go up and see her again next week.”

“Good. She’s a nice girl.”

“How’s Lucy Duke?”

Jeff let out an amused snort. “Furious. But Downing Street has enough trouble right now trying to spin Lacey out of any blame for the riot. And even she had to concede, I went up in public estimation.”

“She must really hate that.”

“Oh, she does.”

Tim let out a long sigh, and checked the window. Annabelle and Yoni were back together on the terrace. The agency chaperone was blithely chattering away, waving her arms around as if she were at a rave. “I remembered something on the way over here.”

“What did you remember?”

“Rachel. You took Rachel to bed after the Summer Ball, after Annabelle.”

“Ah.”

“Annabelle’s so much happy with you.” He was still looking out through the window. Annabelle was walking down the steps at the shallow end of the swimming pool. Yoni had gone to lie on the side of the pool, propping her chin up on her hands to watch intently as Annabelle immersed herself. She shouted something as her legs waggled about, and Annabelle laughed in reply. “It would kill her to find out.”

“Tim,” Jeff said gently. “She knows what I’m like.”

“Are you sleeping with Yoni as well?”

“Don’t ask questions like that, Tim. I’m with Annabelle.”

Which wasn’t quite an answer, Tim thought. “Whatever.”

“I remember telling you, Tim: Never confuse love with sex.”

“I don’t get it, Dad, I don’t understand what you are. She loves you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It means almost everything. The only person more important to me than Annabelle is you.”

“I don’t get her, either, not anymore. She just told me she’s staying here, that she’s taking open-line university courses.”

“That’s right.”

“She was going to go away to university. She used to have big plans for her life.”

“She still does.”

“She’s not Annabelle, not the girl I…used to know.” He nearly said: loved.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Jeff said. “But she is exactly the same. And I haven’t changed so much, either. Sure, this body means I can have a decent sex life again, but that’s about the only difference. The rest of me’s the same, the way I think, the way I behave. It’s your perception of me that’s shifted. You know me a lot better now than you ever did before.”

“Really? I sometimes wish I didn’t.”

“Maybe I wish I wasn’t what I am. But I did what I did, I fucked up, and I’m not going to try and gloss it over or justify it. All I can tell you is that if you ever need me, then I’ll be here. That’s the bottom line, Tim.”

“I guess I know that now,” Tim said sheepishly.

“I’d do that again, you know. I’d do it every time for you.”

Tim cleared his throat, looked at his shoes. It wasn’t anything he could answer.

“Do you want to move back here?” Jeff asked.

Tim flinched. His gaze went back to the window again. Yoni was on her back now. She’d lifted her legs so they were pointing straight up into the sky, with her hands holding her knees. Presumably it was some sort of stretching exercise; Tim could only think of a tortoise on its back. “Colin’s parents have a bungalow in Norfolk; there’s a few of us going down for a week or so. Vanessa’s going to France before the end of the month, and she says I can come. And I promised Mum I’d visit the new house. Then I need to get ready for Oxford. But I was thinking, next holiday, when term’s over, would it be okay to stay here for a while then?”

Jeff’s smile was joyful. “You’ll be here for Christmas?”

“Guess so. A couple of days anyway.” Tim sort of smiled back at Jeff; it was hard not to. Maybe happiness was infectious.

“I’d like that a lot,” Jeff said.

LUCY DUKE ARRIVED at the manor forty minutes after Tim left. She walked through the hall with a quick nod to the Europol officer on duty. In the living room, she frowned disapprovingly at the sight of the two naked girls sunning themselves on the terrace. Yoni was rubbing sunscreen into Annabelle’s skin, taking a lot more time than she really needed.

Lucy went into the study. Her flexscreen fell from shocked fingers, bouncing on the tough carpet. “Shit! Dr. Baker? Jeff. Jeff, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Jeff was lying on the floor behind the desk, curled up in a fetal position. His skin was pale and glistening with sweat. When she knelt beside him she could feel his whole body trembling softly. He was conscious; dull eyes stared at her.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped. His flesh was freezing below her fingers. “Help! Someone, help me. Get in here. Now!”