Page 80 of The Manor House Governess

“Thank you.”

“Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to say—I just assumed—do you prefer—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see you, Harry.”

And it is. For all those sleepless nights at school thinking of Harry and how he’d been forgotten, for all those times he cried himself to sleep and screamed his name in his dreams, shrieking,Harry! Harry! How could you have left me here alone? You promised me. You promised!Seeing him now has its own sort of pleasure, tinged with nerves, irrevocably—but still pleasant, like a mass has been lifted off his lungs, allowing him to finally breathe, inhale in the subtlety of the Earl Grey’s bergamot. Really taste its flowery perfume.

“It’s nice to see you too! How long has it been? Three, maybe four—”

“Five years,” Bron corrects. “And a bit.”

“Wow. That long, huh?”

“That long,” he says. “So, I see you finally made it to Cambridge?”

“Yeah, I’m reading computer science. Turns out it’s not so bad here after all. And you! What a small world. Don’t tell me you’re a student here too?”

“No, I’m not. But I’d like to be.” Bron sits forward in his chair, takes another sip of tea. “I’m actually thinking of applying again.”

“Good luck … It’s just so good to see you. I can’t quite believe it.”

“It’s not like I didn’t try to make contact.”I wrote to you, every day I wrote to you. Every spare moment I had.

“Hey, do you want anything to drink?”

Bron shakes his head no, gestures to his tea, but Harry signals for the waitress anyway, orders a lemonade and slice of cake, whatever she recommends. The waitress smiles, says the redvelvet cake is very good, and hurries away when another table signals for the bill.

“Why did you, then? Ignore all my messages, my letters.”

Harry can’t quite meet his eye. Is distracted by a sugar packet on the table. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s like you’d died or something. And now the sudden response?”

“I like to stay offline as much as I can.”

Bron raised his eyebrows, said with his face,“You, the tech whiz?”which only made Harry smile.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I was avoiding youjusta little. But then I saw it and thought what the heck! Though I did have a look through some of the messages we used to send before coming here, and God, I don’t know how you put up with me.”

He is unsure how to take this. “Put up with you? You were a big part of my life.”

“I know. You were of mine too. Obviously. But when I left St. Mary’s I thought … I thought it probably best to avoid contact with everyone there. Have you heard O’Brian has got a kid now?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He hadn’t stayed in touch with any of the boys there, though he’d looked up Bertie Barrett’s social’s a couple of times a year. But he wouldn’t let Harry steer them away from the subject. “So you thought it best to just … disappear?”

Harry shrugs it off. “Pretty much.” And Bron is bothered by this level of indifference. Hopes without faith that his companion has mastered the art of deflection.

The waitress returns to bring Harry his lemonade, which he sips at once, and a thick wedge of red velvet. He digs instantly into it.

“I always thought it was much deeper than that, that I’d done something wrong and that you hated me for some reason. That when I—” It’s on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t want to say it,but he cannot avoid it any longer. “That when I kissed you, you hated me. That I violated you in some way. I don’t know.”

Harry continues chewing his cake. “Yeah.” He swallows, focusing down on his plate and looking at anywhere but at him. “You did seem to really like me, huh?”

“I did. And I thought—I know it sounds silly, but I thought you did too. That you wanted me to kiss you.”

Harry lets the pause swell into something uncomfortable. But Bron is determined to wait it out, to demand an answer.

“Maybe I did, I don’t know … You were pretty full on sometimes, ya know. It was so hard to be with you in a way that wouldn’t hurt you. And I guess I didn’t know what would or wouldn’t have happened between us until it did. And then I left, and I thought pulling away would be easier than telling you the truth. I knew you were all alone there, and I guess I just felt bad.”

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