The Truants by Kate Weinberg

Author:Kate Weinberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781526600097
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2019-06-13T11:36:54+00:00

20

Was it strange, under these circumstances, to turn to Lorna?

She’d only been my supervisor for two terms. There were those dozen or so times we’d spent together after class (fifteen, if we’re counting). But she was now the adult I most respected and admired – and who had told me, quite clearly, that she had my back. Even if I’d had more choices it would have felt quite natural to seek out her advice.

As it happened, she felt like just about the only person I could tell. There was Alec, who I couldn’t get hold of. I tried his mobile once more, but when the call failed altogether, without even a mechanical voice, I took it as a sign and rang off, hands shaking, but feeling oddly relieved, too, suddenly very sure that I didn’t want him to know. Nick and Georgie were obviously out of the question, as were the old friends I’d hooked up with for a drink or two a couple of times after my shifts. In my current state of mind, I felt they were orbiting a different planet. It’s also a stark fact that it barely crossed my mind to talk to my mother, an obstetrician.

Instead, in what would have been under different circumstances a glorious moment, I quit Pet Projects without notice, made an excuse to my parents about going back to campus for some extra course work, and left for Norwich the following day.

My plan was to dump my bag in Halls then go into town and knock on Lorna’s door. An email I’d sent came sailing back with an automatic reply saying she was Still off fishing, which I thought meant she was probably at home, in her garret, finishing writing her Christie book. But on my way back from my room I happened to glance up at The Ark and notice that her office window – third floor, fourth along – was open.

I walked down the speckled linoleum with that shaky feeling that often comes, having held yourself together, with the prospect of imminent relief. It had been barely twenty-four hours since I’d found out, during which time every symptom of early pregnancy had made itself known to me (I’d drunk a pint of chocolate milk for breakfast, then thrown up; the train from Reigate to Norfolk seemed to be full of babies glaring at me; walking past a fish shop was a hideous ordeal). Not having told anyone yet made it feel more intense, like I was carrying around a stolen item in my pocket.

So at Lorna’s door I barely paused. The indicator on her nameboard was showing IN. I knocked and walked in, almost in one movement.

The person standing at the desk looked startled, guilty even. He stood bent over an open filing drawer, a bunch of papers in one hand, reading glasses on his nose, hair askew as it had been when he was bent over digging up dahlias. Professor Steadman.

‘Oh, hullo,’ he said. ‘Jess, isn’t it? If you’re looking for Lorna, I’m afraid she’s away.

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