The Christmas Bookshop(91)

The three dots lasted a little while.

‘Is it that ghastly man from the television?’



It was a proper blizzard by the time she got out of the cab, tipping the driver hugely, who sniffed, ‘Only bloody students doon here, no bloody fares, eh?’ and turned and took off again.

The King’s Buildings campus was large and business-like. Tall buildings erupted from everywhere; students were passing through, chattering, probably heading home for Christmas. Some were wearing tinsel and there was mistletoe everywhere.

They didn’t, Carmen thought, look snotty or entitled as she’d always joked about students being with Idra. They didn’t look like they thought they were better than anyone else. They just looked normal; some were international, chatting in different languages, shouting and saying hi to each other, but normal.

Well.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Can you tell me where biology is?’

‘Sure,’ said the first person she stopped. ‘Biological sciences is the big grey building.’

‘They’re all big grey buildings!’

‘One, two … third on the left. Over there.’

Nobody was checking ID at the door of the low unattractive building, but Carmen was still daunted. It was quiet; lectures must be over for the term.

Oh God. Maybe she should have stayed in town after all and just sat outside the halls of residence, hoping she saw him before she froze to death. This was maybe an even stupider idea than that would have been.

She followed a sign that said ‘PhD offices’, hoping a nice member of staff would take pity on her once she finally got there. She was beginning to feel very tired and slightly spacey.

There was nobody in the offices either. It must be their Christmas lunch or something. She nearly cried. There were, however, doors leading down a large corridor, with names on each one. Surnames, which wasn’t helpful. But many of them had little jokes on them – cartoons, or signs. And on one of them was a Gary Larson cartoon of his usual pointy-headed men examining the rings of an old tree and saying something that made no sense to Carmen whatsoever but was presumably hilarious if you knew a lot about trees.

Dr Benezet, it said. So. Dr Benezet was his name. Carmen rubbed her mouth. How strange – to come so far, and not remember his name.

She ran her fingers through her hair, blotted on some lipstick – God, she must look knackered.

Well. She couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t. All she could think about was him. She steeled herself – and knocked.



There was no answer. Nothing. The entire building really did feel empty, as if there had been a fire alarm; she was sure she could sense nobody there. She turned the handle of the door and found it swinging open.

With a guilty sense of trespassing, she walked in. The window faced over the town; you could just see a snow-topped Arthur’s Seat. The snowfall outside was thickening by the minute.

But in the room itself there was nothing. A whiteboard left with a beautifully intricate sketch of some deep roots on it. Blu-Tack on the walls where perhaps pictures had been.

No computer; an empty desk, a lamp, an office chair and a sitting chair, with several other stacked chairs for seminars. Nothing else. A long bookshelf, with nothing but a thin line of dust on it. No books.

Carmen swallowed, a mounting dread growing in her. No. It wasn’t possible. He hadn’t gone. He was staying. He’d told her. That he … that he might stay.

She heard footsteps and turned round, panicked, looking back up the corridor.

The figure advanced slowly, carrying a large paper box and as it gradually revealed itself, Carmen felt her heart pound.

‘Skylar,’ she said.

Skylar stared at her.

‘Oh. You. Are you looking for Oke?’

Carmen felt a tiny prick of hope.

‘Yes … ’

‘He’s gone.’

‘Gone where?’

‘Gone home. He decided not to extend. Why did you want to see him?’

Carmen couldn’t answer that.

‘Have you spoken to Sofia?’ she said instead.

Skylar let out a hollow laugh.

‘Oh yes. Don’t worry about me. I don’t need to work with those damaged kids for a second longer.’

‘They’re great kids!’

Skylar shrugged.

‘None of you are in the least bit spiritual. None of you. It’s so damaging.’

‘No,’ said Carmen, finding it in herself to smile. ‘Well. Maybe not.’

She frowned.

‘Where will you go?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ said Skylar. ‘I’m going to London for Christmas with Blair. Oh sorry, is that a sore spot?’

Carmen looked at her.

‘Nope,’ she said.

In fact, Blair had not invited Skylar at all and was making increasingly strenuous excuses to stop her coming, but Skylar had a gleam of persistence about her and couldn’t bear to go back to her parents’ new-build tiny little house on an executive estate just outside Slough where they called her by her birth name – Janet – and lived off Iceland lasagne which they ate in front of Come Dine With Me while talking about the Neighbourhood Watch scheme. A fate worse than death. She’d take her chances with Blair, even if he was spending a lot of time asking her to leave the hotel as he had work to do.