Page 40 of Love and Other Paradoxes

“Joseph.” She eyed him, obviously judging his dishevelled hair and the fact that he was gasping for breath.

“Diana.” He held the gate open and gestured her through.

She didn’t ask where he was taking her. She walked beside him, her body carrying a strange tension. He felt a stab of guilt. He had seen her message as a victory, another step on the path towards his future. He hadn’t thought about how she might be feeling, or what had happened to make her contact him after four days of silence.

At the foot of his staircase, he turned to her. “Are you okay?”

She looked more amused than touched. “Ha. You’re very sweet.” She pulled her scarf tighter. “All the way to the top?”

He nodded. She took the stairs ahead of him, then waited demurely by the door while he unlocked it. “So this is your set?” He nodded. She cast her eye over the carpet stains and the cheap wine, Rob’s tally of kills tacked up above the fireplace. “If this was all a ploy to get me into your bedroom...”

“Not into. Through,” he said, opening the window and climbing out.

She followed him onto the battlements. Steadying herself in the wind, she looked out over the lamplit hush of the college court. “Not bad.”

“We’re not there yet.” He leapt across to the ledge. “This way.”

She looked at him sternly. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“No. It’s incredibly dangerous.” He reached out, offering her his hand. He was surprised to see that it was perfectly steady. “But I know for a fact that neither of us is dying tonight.”

She stared at him across the plunging gap. Then she looked down, with a tiny shake of her head, as though rebuking herself for being impressed. “All right.” She climbed up on the edge of the battlements. She swayed once, twice, and leapt, landing lightly beside him. “Okay,” she said huskily. “Where now?”

“Follow me.” He strode confidently along the narrow ledge towards the drainpipe. The third time, it was almost becoming routine. He had forgotten it wasn’t routine for Diana.

He didn’t see her fall. He only heard a shriek, high and shattering. He lunged for her, grabbing the drainpipe with his other hand almost as an afterthought. She caught his arm and he pulled her in. She clung to him, her body pressed against his, her breath loud and panicked in his ear.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” She was shaking, waves of near-death running through her. He held her close, feeling her heartbeat drown out his own.

“I’ve got you,” he said, shocking himself with his own calm.

She disentangled herself from him carefully, like someone unhooking their life support. “Let me guess,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “We’re going up the drainpipe.”

“We don’t have to,” he offered. “We can go back.”

She chuckled, a low, rolling sound in the dark. “Oh, no, Joseph. It’s far too late for that.”

She stepped neatly around him and started climbing. He heard her gasp while he was still halfway up. By the time he emerged, she was framed in the gap between the two roofs, staring out at King’s College Chapel.

He couldn’t help grinning. “You like it?”

She turned to him. In the candlelight, her face was more than beautiful: it was as if the soft, golden glow was coming from inside her. “How long did it take you to set this up?”

He shrugged. “Five minutes. Nine, if you count climbing here and back again.”

She leaned over his shoulder to look at the drop. “You weren’t afraid. Not even when I almost fell.”

He shook his head, acutely conscious of her closeness. “You weren’t going to fall.”

She looked at him curiously. When he didn’t elaborate, she went to sit between two clumps of candles that formed a natural stage. “I don’t understand you, Joseph.” She leaned back on her hands, arching her neck. “You write with such conviction. And the way you talk sometimes, it’s as if you have this—this unshakeable belief. But you don’t seem to actually hold that belief inside you.” She examined him, candlelight chasing shadows across her face. “It’s as if it comes from the outside, somehow.”

“Oh, it does,” he said, aiming for an echo of her dry tone. “A time traveller told me I’m going to be a famous poet. That’s the only reason I believe it.”

She shook her head with a tiny smile. “So. If you’re not afraid of heights, whatareyou afraid of?”

He stared up at the darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust and reveal the stars. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Fear came from not knowing, and he knew everything. It was a strangely empty feeling. And, he realised, it was a lie. He was still afraid, but he didn’t know what he was afraid of. Images swirled in his mind. The infinite paths in the painting on Diana’s neighbour’s door, one of them marked out for him. Esi’s palm swiping water across the table, unmaking her art like she wanted to unmake her life.

“I’ll tell you what you’re afraid of.” He felt the burnished weight of Diana’s attention. “You’re absolutely terrified of making a fool of yourself.”

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