Harriet pauses. ‘No boyfriends. Just, ah, Edie. Who I’m seeing now. She’s head girl at Blessingwood.’
‘Oh! I didn’t realise,’ I say, keeping my eyes firmly on the hockey players.
Harriet Price has a girlfriend? Why didn’t I know this? Her tendency to play by the book has clearly fucked with my usually impressive intuition in this field. I already had her married off to a Head of the River chump with a square jaw and a receding hairline. I clear my throat. ‘Not that every romantic relationship has to be utterly electric.’ I look at her. ‘Of course, I’m sure you and – Edie, is it?’
Harriet nods.
‘– I’m sure you guys have a whole truckload of fireworks going off whenever you’re –’
She drops her arm abruptly. ‘Will, I’m sorry I mentioned your major work earlier,’ she says. ‘Where you are up to with your schoolwork is absolutely none of my business.’
Talk about an unsubtle change of topic; clearly Harriet doesn’t want to discuss Edie with me. I wobble to regain my balance. ‘It’s fine,’ I tell her, and it is. I don’t feel so angry anymore. The exhaustion of walking a kilometre on one foot has expended my emotional stores.
We reach the end of the oval and I pause to rub my ankle. Fake injuries are the worst. With my hand on Harriet’s shoulder I make a performance of moving my foot gingerly in a slow circle. ‘I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier. About being a condescending bitch.’
Harriet flinches.
‘I didn’t mean it. I’m just a bit sensitive right now about my major work. I have a bit of a block about it at the moment,’ I explain.
‘What kind of a block?’ Harriet asks, holding my hand to help me balance.
‘I can’t work out how to explore what I need to explore, I guess.’
‘Which is?’
‘A sort of phobia-type thing that escalates the closer I get to, um, airports.’
‘You have a fear of flying?’
My parents aside, this is not something I’ve talked about to anyone. But Harriet deserves to know why I lost it earlier. ‘A few years ago, we went to India for an art festival Dad was keen to go to. On the way home we hit some major turbulence. We got there okay. But while it was happening …’
I’m not sure what to tell her. There are the facts, of course: how the lights went out and the oxygen masks dropped down. How the guy sitting next to us hit his head on the ceiling and got concussed. How a woman three rows behind us broke her arm when she landed on the deck.
But how can I describe the feeling: the sense that everything was ending? The sudden knowledge I was a speck in the universe and that death could be as fast and simply executed as someone flicking a switch? Even worse: that in my time on the planet I’d done bugger-all worth speaking of. I would die and be forgotten. End of story.
‘We landed safely in the end. But it freaked me out. Plus, all these explosions and disappearing flights in the news lately …’
She is gazing at me.
‘What?’
‘Your voice is shaking,’ Harriet says.
‘So?’
‘I’m surprised, that’s all. You don’t seem like the type of person who’s scared of anything.’
I grunt.
‘It’s true,’ Harriet says. ‘You’re always standing up to teachers. Protesting for causes you believe in even when you know it will get you into trouble. Choosing to study subjects like Art that have no market val–’ She drifts off. ‘I couldn’t imagine what I’d do if I couldn’t fly,’ Harriet says.
‘Those charcoal pyjamas they give you in first class are really something, hey?’
Harriet blinks. ‘It’s more that my grandma’s in Brisbane and can’t get down much. She doesn’t have any family up there so I like to visit her a couple of times a year. I help her with shopping and house repairs, that kind of thing.’
Okay, so maybe Harriet isn’t quite the selfish trust-fund brat I pegged her for.
‘Why don’t we sit down for a minute?’ Harriet points to a bench near the main block. ‘Give you some rest?’
I consider the response that is most consistent with my hypothetical level of pain. ‘Great idea.’
When we reach the bench I sit down with a gigantic sigh, as if being off that darned ankle is the best thing that’s happened all year. From here the hockey players on the oval are tiny battery-operated action figures, programmed to run back and forth until their motors give out.
When I think back on that plane trip, that’s the overwhelming sense I have: one day my motor is going to give out. I’ll be dead, and I need to make a mark on the world before that happens.
‘My dad lives in Perth,’ I tell Harriet. ‘So I never get to see him anymore. He knew about my phobia and still chose to move there.’
‘Are you two close?’
‘We used to be.’
Harriet is silent for a moment. She gives me a serious look. ‘I think you’ll get there. With your major work, I mean. The hard stuff inspires the best kind of art.’
‘You sound like you know what you’re talking about.’
She looks at her hands. ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you. About the first cartoon we did.’
‘Oh?’
She takes a breath. ‘I’m being silly. Never mind.’
Something in the tone of her voice makes my ears prick. I realise I’ve been waiting for this. ‘Did something happen with Hadley? Is that it?’
‘Oh no.’ She shakes her head. ‘Not really. Forget I brought it up.’
I consider dropping the subject. But only for a moment. If that creep has done something to her … ‘Whatever it is, you’re still thinking about it. I’m sure it would help
