17

BOSTON, USA

When I finally unlock the door to my apartment I call Tanya.

‘Yeah. It’s me. Look, no one likes hearing “I told you so”,’ I say.

‘I know.’

‘So I’m just going to say that I will never mention Jamie’s name again. Ever. And this time I mean it. You were right. I can see that now but I can’t talk about it just yet.’

‘Sure. I understand. And Simone, I’ve missed you.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’

Professor Louise Baxter’s office is lined with shelves neatly stacked with books. Glass ornaments have been placed around the room and they glint when the light hits them. Her room has a feel of unaffected but sophisticated elegance.

‘Hello. Take a seat,’ she says, walking from behind her desk and motioning to the white leather lounge. She sits in an armchair to my right. ‘So you were one of John’s students?’

I nod and say what I have been rehearsing since I made the appointment three days ago. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you. It’s about Professor Young and I know this must be an imposition at a time like this so please forgive me if I seem insensitive. I just didn’t know who else to talk to.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. I realise this is a strange time for many people.’ She smiles, sincerely if not warmly.

‘I know this sounds odd but a few days after Professor Young passed away a package arrived for me at my home in Australia.’

I take the book gently from my bag. I notice a look of recognition sweep across Professor Baxter’s face as I place the book on the table between us. She puts her hand out to touch it, lightly, and then withdraws it.

‘It just seems a very generous gift and I thought, given the circumstances, that it might be better if it was kept by someone in his family. His daughter maybe.’

‘That’s a lovely idea. But if he sent it to you, he did so for a reason. You should keep it. That book did mean a lot to him. It may even have been his most loved possession so he must have wanted you to have it or he wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to get it to you.’

I think of her instinctive touch of the book, the selfconscious withdrawal of her hand. I feel sure I was right about its importance.

‘It’s just that the package was postmarked the day after he died so he must have put it in the mail the day he … well, I just thought that maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. I thought it might be more appropriate if his own daughter had it.’

She looks at me as if appraising my earnestness.

‘She wouldn’t want it.’

‘But surely …’

‘Simone, I am trying to tell you that she wouldn’t want it,’ she says gently, firmly. ‘Without taking anything away from all that was good in John, while he was a great man he was also a complicated man. Complex. Brilliant. But very self-absorbed, selfish. You might not have seen that side of him because, as your supervisor, you would have seen the best of him. With such self-absorption it is very hard to have much left over to give to others and that can make personal relationships also complicated. It is very thoughtful of you to come here and offer but, believe me, trust me, his daughter wouldn’t want it.’

‘Oh,’ I whisper.

Professor Baxter’s once soft mouth now seems set firm. I sense I am pushing her too hard so I stop.

‘Through all his internal turmoil he obviously made an effort to get that book to you. He must have known you would appreciate it. You should keep it.’