“Ah, right.” To my surprise, Hal takes my free hand, lightly holding my fingers as if he might be about to kiss it. “Well, long story short, there’s something you need to...”
It’s at that moment that Lord Beaumont arrives. I’m not even joking. How many times can people turn up just to string out the suspense of this moment? What do I need to know about Hal? And does it involve him being somehow improbably in love with me? Because at this point that’s what I’m holding out for.
“What a wonderful evening!” LordB booms at us, with the same volume and enthusiasm that he might address an arena crowd, but just for us two. “Are you having a wonderful evening, Hal?” He turns to Hal, who lets go of my hand. “Are you having a wonderful evening, Ava?”
“It’s a wonderful evening,” Hal agrees, sending me a secret smile.
“Really wonderful,” I repeat the sentiment, because a few minutes ago Hal was holding my hand, and anything felt possible, and now that I’m on my third gimlet I feel like something verging on a social butterfly.
“Excellent, excellent.” He nods approvingly as he beckons to a suited man a few feet behind him. “Now, I couldn’t help butnotice that you two had tucked yourselves away over here from all the hubbub, and I know you academic types can be shy and rather, shall we say, reclusive animals, but that will never do. No, that will never do. Can’t have you missing out on any opportunity to speak for your project, can we? So, I want you to meet Peter Harding.” He gestures at the silver-haired man in a silver-grey suit, who nods at each, offering a hand, which I take, knowing that he’ll be judging me on the firmness of my handshake. “Peter is a leading futures investor and one of the judges on the panel. I know you are presenting tomorrow, but all four of you are getting a chance to put a word in, as ’twere, informally. Pique his interest, if you will. What?”
“What?” I repeat.
“Exactly so,” LordB says. “So Hal, let’s hear from you, shall we? Give us the old sales pitch for your thingumgy, why don’t you?”
“I’d be delighted,” Hal says. “My research and testing is on the verge of making cost-effective custom-built bioengineered organs for transplant a viable reality. Best of all, they don’t require a donation and won’t be rejected by the immune system, making outcomes significantly better for the patient.”
“When you say ‘on the verge,’ what are we talking? Ten to twenty years?” Peter asks.
“No, ten to twenty months,” Hal says. “My research is two decades ahead of the field.”
“How?” Peter asks, astounded.
“You’ll have to wait for presentation week to find out the details,” Hal says, winking at me. “Of course, my lab is open for you to come and see me at work, any time.”
I can’t understand how I have never heard of Hal Babbage before. For him to be so far ahead of the field on this research and to have seemingly come from nowhere is incredible.
“Incredibly sexy,” I hear myself say. LordB, Peter Harding, and Hal Babbage all turn to look at me.
“Beg pardon?” LordB asks.
“Incredibly... sexy.” I apparently I can’t think of another phrase to cover up my out-loud private thought, and so I just double down. “Tech. Sexy tech. It’s a term.”
“It’s a term.” Hal backs me up, even though his eyes sparkle with repressed laughter.
“Ah, I see.” Peter chuckles, turning to me. “So, Ava, what ‘sexy’ tech do you have to offer? Care to enlighten us?”
Rani has put me through dozens of rehearsals for just this moment since we knew we were coming to Beaumont, but suddenly I can’t think of any useful words, and also what if I blurt out more inappropriate thoughts?
“Nope,” I say. “Good day to you, sir.”
And I turn down the steps, kick off my shoes, and run.
Chapter Twelve
The answer to your question is no, I don’t know what I was thinking when I ditched my shoes and ran off into the garden, and no, I wasn’t thinking about where I was going, and yes, I do seem to be stuck in the middle of the Elizabethan maze. I didn’t see that coming. Well, not until I ran full tilt into an eight-foot-high privet hedge, that is. Privet hedges are actually a lot harder than they look.
Rubbing my forehead vigorously, I take a look around. Hedges everywhere.
It’s obvious when you think about it, really. It’s obvious that I, in a blind panic over answering a simple question that I was more than prepared for, would end up lost in the famously difficult maze of a grand country house, just as darkness falls.
Not to be overdramatic, or anything, but I expect this is how I die.
They’ll find me one day, years from now. A skeleton in a nice lilac dress, propped up against the hedge, having starved to death on a diet of grass and despair. Fine, yes, that is a bit over the top.
Still, the light is faltering and the long corridor of solid green that runs either side of me does seem to loom menacingly. I am trying not to think about that time I accidentally watchedThe Shiningwhen I was ten years old, when some of the older kids found a DVD of it. A fear of mazes and also axe-wielding lunatics have haunted my nightmares ever since. It’s also the reason I don’t trust twins.
Right, enough of irrational, fanciful, read too many novels and seen too many movies, Ava. I am a rational grown science woman. If I know anything, it’s that I can get myself out of one dumb maze if I just think it through like a normal person.
