Page 124 of Babel

‘It would only be temporary—’

‘Everyone calm down.’ Victoire so seldom raised her voice, it hushed them at once. ‘It’s like – like an assignment, you understand? We only need a plan. We only have to break this down into component parts, finish them, and we’ll be fine.’ She lifted two fingers. ‘Now, it seems there are two things we need to do. Task one: get in touch with the Hermes Society. Task two: accumulate as much information as we can so when we do reach Hermes, they’ll be able to do something with it.’

‘You forgot task three,’ Letty said. ‘Don’t get caught.’

‘Well, that goes without saying.’

‘How exposed are we?’ asked Ramy. ‘I mean, if you think about it, we’re even safer here than we were on the ship. Bodies can’t talk, and he’s not going to wash up anywhere. Seems to me that if we all keep quiet, we’re fine, aren’t we?’

‘But they’ll start asking questions,’ said Letty. ‘I mean, obviously, at some point, someone’s going to notice Professor Lovell’s not answering any letters.’

‘So we keep telling them the same thing,’ said Victoire. ‘He’s holed up in his house, he’s grievously ill, which is why he’s not answering letters or taking visitors, and he told us to come back without him. That’s the whole story. Keep it simple, don’t embellish details. If we all give the same account, then no one will get suspicious. And if we come off as nervous, it’s because we’re concerned for our dear professor. Yes?’

No one challenged her. They were all hanging on her every word. The world had stopped spinning out of control; all that mattered was what Victoire said next.

She continued. ‘What I think, though, is that the more sitting around we do – that is, the more cautiously we behave – the more suspicious we look. We can’t hide away and keep out of sight. We’re Babel students. We’re busy. We’re fourth years losing our minds from all the work we’ve been assigned. We don’t have to pretend we’re not mad, because students here are always mad, but we’ve got to pretend we’re mad for the right reasons.’

Somehow, this made complete and utter sense.

Victoire pointed at Robin. ‘You get the housekeeper sorted, then go and get Professor Lovell’s correspondence. Ramy and I will go to Anthony’s drop points and leave as many encrypted messages as we can. Letty, you’ll go about your daily routine and give the impression that everything is perfectly fine. If people ask you about Canton, start spreading the story about the professor’s illness. We’ll all meet back here tonight, and hope to God nothing goes wrong.’ She took a deep breath and looked around, nodding as if trying to convince herself. ‘We’re going to make it through this, all right? We just can’t lose our heads.’

But this, Robin thought, was a foregone conclusion.

One by one they dispersed from Magpie Lane. Robin had hoped that Mrs Piper would not be at home in Jericho, that he could get away with simply leaving a message in the letterbox, but he’d barely knocked before she threw the door open with a wide smile. ‘Robin, dear!’

She hugged him tight. She smelled of warm bread. Robin’s sinuses stung, threatening tears. He broke away and rubbed at his nose, trying to pass it off as a sneeze.

‘You look thin.’ She patted his cheeks. ‘Didn’t they feed you in Canton? Or had you lost your taste for Chinese food?’

‘Canton was fine,’ he said weakly. ‘It’s the voyages where food’s scarce.’

‘Shame on them. You’re only kids, still.’ She stepped back and glanced around. ‘Is the professor back too, then?’

‘He won’t be back for a bit, actually.’ Robin’s voice wobbled. He cleared his throat and tried again. He’d never lied to Mrs Piper before, and it felt much worse than he’d expected. ‘He – well, he fell badly ill on the return voyage.’

‘My word, really?’

‘And he didn’t feel up to the journey back to Oxford, and was worried about transmitting it besides, so he’s quarantining himself in Hampstead for now.’

‘All on his own?’ Mrs Piper looked alarmed. ‘That fool, he should have written. I should head down tonight, Lord knows the man can’t even make himself tea—’

‘Please don’t,’ Robin blurted. ‘Erm – I mean, what he’s got is very contagious. It spreads through the air in particles when he coughs or speaks. We couldn’t even be in the same cabin with him on the ship. He’s trying to see as few people as possible. But he’s being taken care of. We had a doctor in to look at him—’

‘Which one? Smith? Hastings?’

He tried to remember the name of the doctor who’d come to treat him when he caught influenza as a child. ‘Erm – Hastings?’

‘Good,’ said Mrs Piper. ‘I always thought Smith was a quack. I had this terrible fever several years back, and he diagnosed it as simple hysterics. Hysterics! I couldn’t even keep broth down, and he thought I was making it all up.’

Robin took a steadying breath. ‘I’m sure Dr Hastings will take good care of him.’

‘Oh, sure, he’ll be back here demanding his sultana scones by the weekend.’ Mrs Piper smiled broadly. It was clearly fake; it did not quite reach her eyes, but she seemed determined to cheer him up. ‘Well, I can look after you, at least. Can I make you some lunch?’

‘Oh, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I can’t stay, there’s – I’ve got to go and tell the other professors. They don’t know yet, you see.’

‘You won’t even stay for tea?’

He wanted to. He wanted so badly to sit at her table, to listen to her rambling stories and feel, just for a fleeting moment, the warm comfort and safety of his childhood. But he knew he wouldn’t last five minutes, much less the time it would take to pour, steep, and sip a cup of Darjeeling. If he stayed, if he stepped inside that house, he would break down completely.