Page 31 of Babel

‘Though I almost didn’t make it.’ Letty blinked, eyelashes fluttering madly. ‘Father said he’d never pay for a woman’s education, so I’m grateful for the scholarship. I had to sell a set of bracelets to pay for the coach fare up.’

Victoire, like Robin and Ramy, had come to Europe with a guardian. ‘Paris,’ she clarified. ‘He was a Frenchman, but he had acquaintances at the Institute, and he was going to write to them when I was old enough. Only then he died, and for a while I wasn’t sure I’d get to come.’ Her voice faltered a bit. She took a sip of tea. ‘But I managed to get in touch with them, and they arranged to bring me over,’ she concluded vaguely.

Robin suspected this was not the full extent of this story, but he, too, was practised in the art of papering over pain, and he did not pry.

One thing united them all – without Babel, they had nowhere in this country to go. They’d been chosen for privileges they couldn’t have ever imagined, funded by powerful and wealthy men whose motives they did not fully understand, and they were acutely aware these could be lost at any moment. That precariousness made them simultaneously bold and terrified. They had the keys to the kingdom; they did not want to give them back.

By the time they’d finished their tea, they were almost in love with each other – not quite yet, because true love took time and memories, but as close to love as first impressions could take them. The days had not yet come when Ramy wore Victoire’s sloppily knitted scarves with pride, when Robin learned exactly how long Ramy liked his tea steeped so he could have it ready when he inevitably came to the Buttery late from his Arabic tutorial, or when they all knew Letty was about to come to class with a paper bag full of lemon biscuits because it was a Wednesday morning and Taylor’s bakery put out lemon biscuits on Wednesdays. But that afternoon they could see with certainty the kind of friends they would be, and loving that vision was close enough.

Later, when everything went sideways and the world broke in half, Robin would think back to this day, to this hour at this table, and wonder why they had been so quick, so carelessly eager to trust one another. Why had they refused to see the myriad ways they could hurt each other? Why had they not paused to interrogate their differences in birth, in raising, that meant they were not and could never be on the same side?

But the answer was obvious – that they were all four of them drowning in the unfamiliar, and they saw in each other a raft, and clinging to one another was the only way to stay afloat.

The girls were not allowed to live in college, which was why they hadn’t crossed paths with Robin and Ramy until the first day of instruction. Instead, Victoire and Letty lodged about two miles away in the servant annex of one of the Oxford day schools, which was apparently a common arrangement for Babel’s female students. Robin and Ramy accompanied them home because it seemed the gentlemanly thing to do, but Robin hoped this would not become a nightly routine, as the road really was quite far away and there was no omnibus at this hour.

‘They couldn’t put you anywhere closer?’ Ramy asked.

Victoire shook her head. ‘All of the colleges said our proximity risked corrupting the gentlemen.’

‘Well, that’s not fair,’ said Ramy.

Letty shot him a droll look. ‘Say more.’

‘But it’s not so bad,’ said Victoire. ‘There are some fun pubs on this street – we like the Four Horsemen, the Twisted Root, and there’s this place called Rooks and Pawns where you can play chess—’

‘Sorry,’ said Robin. ‘Did you say the Twisted Root?’

‘It’s up ahead on Harrow Lane near the bridge,’ said Victoire. ‘You won’t like it, though. We took a peek and walked right back out – it’s awfully dirty inside. Run your finger around the glass and you’ll find a wadge of grease and dirt a quarter of an inch thick.’

‘Not a haunt for students, then?’

‘No, Oxford boys wouldn’t be seen dead there. It’s for town, not gown.’

Letty pointed out a herd of meandering cows up ahead, and Robin let the conversation drift. Later, after they’d seen the girls safely home, he told Ramy to head back to Magpie Lane on his own.

‘I forgot I’ve got to go and see Professor Lovell,’ he said. Jericho was conveniently closer to this part of town than it was to Univ. ‘It’s a long walk; I don’t want to drag you over there.’

‘I thought your dinner wasn’t until next weekend,’ said Ramy.

‘It is, but I’ve just remembered I was supposed to visit sooner.’ Robin cleared his throat; he felt terrible lying to Ramy’s face. ‘Mrs Piper said she had some cakes for me.’

‘Thank heavens.’ Amazingly, Ramy suspected nothing. ‘Lunch was inedible. Are you sure you don’t want company?’

‘I’m all right. It’s been quite a day, and I’m tired, and I think it’ll be nice just to walk for a bit in silence.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ramy said pleasantly.

They parted on Woodstock Road. Ramy went down south straight back to the college. Robin cut right in search of the bridge Victoire had pointed out, unsure of what he was looking for except for the memory of a whispered phrase.

The answer found him. Halfway through Harrow Lane he heard a second pair of footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a dark figure following him up the narrow road.

‘Took you long enough,’ said his doppelgänger. ‘I’ve been skulking here all day.’

‘Who are you?’ Robin demanded. ‘What are you – why do you have my face?’

‘Not here,’ said his doppelgänger. ‘The pub’s round this corner, let’s go inside—’

‘Answer me,’ Robin demanded. A belated sense of danger had only now kicked in; his mouth had gone dry; his heart was hammering furiously. ‘Who are you?’

‘You’re Robin Swift,’ said the man. ‘You grew up without a father but with an inexplicable English nursemaid and a never-ending supply of books in English, and when Professor Lovell turned up to carry you off to England, you said farewell to your motherland for good. You think the professor might be your father, but he hasn’t admitted that you are his own. You’re quite sure he never will. Does that make sense?’

Robin couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, and his jaw worked pointlessly, but he simply had nothing to say.

‘Come with me,’ said his doppelgänger. ‘Let’s have a drink.’