Page 58 of I Know How This Ends

I ’ m too late.

As I peg it up the steps to Henry’s flat, I can feel it: I’m too late.

The lights are all out, he’s at work, he’s on a date, he’s met someone, someone who doesn’t dump him every three minutes,

someone normal , and I cannot believe I allowed someone else to grab this gorgeous human while I was fannying about, worried about something

that doesn’t happen for fifteen years . You come across a genuine Michelangelo painting at the back of a charity shop, you don’t let that out of your grubby mitts

until it’s on the wall at home .

I’m about to smash urgently on his front door and yell “HENRY,” then remember that tends to frighten people and I’m not going

to ruin this by being bloody crazy again.

Instead, I take a deep breath, calm myself and knock politely.

There’s no response, so—desperate now—I lean forward and say through the letter box as clearly as I can: “Vinosauraptor.”

Come on, come on, come on...

The door opens.

It’s Henry. Henry is here. He’s here and he’s him and it’s the same face and the same hair and it’s not fully silver yet and

we’re not fifty and we’ve still got so many years left to—

Oh God, he looks angry.

“Hey, Margot.” Henry smiles stiffly. “This is a bit of a surprise.”

“I told you!” Little Winter—that’s how I think of her now—skips jauntily out of the living room, where I now realize it was dark because

they’re watching a Disney film. “I told you she’d be back!

What did I say, Daddy? Oh my gosh, I am so clever.

And you were all ‘No she won’t, it’s over, she doesn’t like me,’ and I was all ‘She does like you, don’t be stupid, Daddy,’ and you were all ‘No, she doesn’t,’ and I was like ‘Yes, she does, I know she does, she’s just being silly,’ and I was right and you were wrong, so ha ! ”

Winnie’s been doing a little matching dance, and she lands on the ha with a finger pointed in the air, like a ’70s disco diva.

Henry has never, ever looked this mortified before.

Not in any of the time I’ve spent with him in the present, and not in any of the times I’ve spent with him in the future either.

“That’s...” He blinks. “Fucking embarrassing, actually.”

“ Daddy ,” Winter reproves sternly, still in a bizarre pointy stance, “I know this is a very emotional time for you because the lady you love soooo much has come back and you’ve been soooo sad , but there is no need for that kind of language.”

“Right.” Henry snaps to. “That’s enough from you, young lady. And later, before bed, we’re going to have a very long chat about what defines a private conversation between a father and daughter .”

Winnie cocks her head. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, because it’s my fault, so take some chocolate from the sweets cupboard and you can come out and watch the film when Margot

and I are done talking.”

“Yessss!” She punches the air. “But not toooo much kissing, OK? I’ll be listening .”

Then she grabs an entire armful of snacks from the drawer and saunters off, making triumphant little kissing sounds as she

goes.

Henry turns back to me with his eyes shut.

“So... Yeah. That just happened.”

“It did indeed.”

“Can we just...” he opens one eye and squints at me “. . . pretend you heard none of that and let me go back to being cool and a bit disinterested in anything you have to say, as planned?”

“Oh, no.” I grin at him. “Sorry, but that’s completely out of the question now.”

“Bugger.” He breathes out in frustration. “Right. Fine. Come in, and I’ll attempt not to look quite so happy to see you.”

A lot of my anxiety has now evaporated, and it’s not just because of what Winter yelled (although that helped quite a lot).

It’s because as soon as I’m with Henry, everything feels easy. As if anything that happens, anything that’s coming, I can

face as long as he is here. I can even face the end, as long as it’s with him.

“Winter was right,” I say as I sit down next to him. “I was being very silly.”

“You were,” he agrees. “Remarkably so.”

“I knew I was silly.” I shake my head. “But I did not know I had that level of silliness within me, just waiting to burst out.”

“I suspected.” Henry is trying not to smile. “And yet I could never have dreamed of the heights your silliness would take

you.”

“Truly awe-inspiring silliness,” I confirm. “Thank you for appreciating it.”

Then we look at each other for a few seconds, and he is smiling but also—I can see it in his face—hurt. Unbelievably hurt.

I cannot believe I put that pain there. That I hurt this man I care about so deeply, thinking it was the right thing to do.

“Margot, you pushed me away again,” Henry says quietly. “And you didn’t even explain why. You just... bolted.”

“I know.” My chest tightens. “I didn’t know what to say.”

Then I hesitate, because I still don’t. I can’t tell him the truth. Not if I want to keep him. Not if I don’t want him to

run screaming to the nearest medical center.

“Just... try.”

I take a deep breath. What can I say that is true without telling him everything?

“I got scared,” I admit carefully. “That I would lose you. And Winter. So it seemed easier to lose you both now rather than... later. When it would hurt more.”

Henry lifts his eyebrows. “That’s kind of how a relationship works, Meg. It’s part of the deal. You go into it knowing that

it might not work out.”

I nod, feeling frustrated. Because might not work out is very, very different to will not work out. But I can’t say that. “I know. I just... Something told me that this wasn’t going to... end well.”

Now Henry frowns, thinks about it, hesitates.

“Is it...” He scratches his beard. “Was it...”

I wait for him to say, Was it about Aaron, did seeing him again throw you off, did you realize you still had feelings for him? and I get my best, most vigorous rebuttal ready.

“About the, you know.” Henry takes a deep breath. “The, uh, visions? Did you see a vision that told you this would end? Is

that what happened?”

My mouth snaps shut in shock.

“Oh God, I sound mad.” Henry stands up and starts pacing the room. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m so sorry. I was putting

it all together and I’ve jumped to the weirdest and most insane—”

“You know?” I stand up too. “You know ?”

“So you are having visions?” Henry stops pacing and his entire face relaxes. “Oh, thank goodness. If I’d been wrong, this would have been

a very awkward conversation.”

I stare at him, totally floored. “I... How? ”

“Well.” Henry looks quite proud of himself. “I joined up the dots, Meg. Collected the data. Examined the results. You’re not

the only one who knows how to do that, for the record. I didn’t even need a notepad.”

Oh my God: he’s perfect for me.

Also, this man is going to be the best doctor on the planet .

“OK.” I sit down heavily, in shock. “Please present your hypothesis.”

“Right.” Henry sits next to me with the clear satisfaction of a GP who’s stumbled on the right, albeit bonkers, diagnosis. “So, first, you were lying about Eve.”

I open my mouth to protest and he holds out a hand.

“No, let me finish. I don’t mean lying. Because I think this is kind of a special circumstance, so you get a dispensation for that. But covering up . She rang when you were poorly, do you remember? So when I picked up, I brought up the topic of Winter. You know, conversationally,

as her pupil. Eve had no idea who I was talking about. She doesn’t work in that school—she’s all the way on the other side

of Redland.”

I open my mouth, and Henry holds out his hand again.

“Not yet. So I was like—huh. Weird. Is Meg a secret stalker? It did cross my mind, briefly. Sorry. But then I remembered that

we’d only stuck that unicorn on my screwdriver the night before. Nobody else knew about it. It was a weekend—Winnie hadn’t

even left the house. So how the hell did you know?”

I flush and try to speak again.

“Nope. My turn. So I was like, huh. Interesting data. I remembered that you’d asked, ‘What would you do? If you were in Macbeth’s

shoes?’ after we watched the play. You seemed invested in the answer. You also kept glazing over, and when you came out of

whatever it was, your mood was always totally different. Like you’d seen something. I was a bit scared. I thought brain tumor,

maybe.”

“Me too,” I manage.

“But no other symptoms. That’s why I insisted on taking your temperature. You seemed to know things about me that you shouldn’t know. Things nobody else knows. And then tried to cover it up.”

I thought I was being so flaming clever.

“Oh!” Henry lifts his eyebrows. “And then, just in case I hadn’t already worked it out, you held an axe in the air and screamed, ‘I am angry that I keep seeing shit and am expected to handle it all on my own, puzzle it all out, as if I don’t have enough to bloody worry about.

’ And when I asked, you said, ‘I’m not having visions of the future or anything, and then trying to piece them together in the right order. That would be crazy.’”

Henry looks at me pointedly and I flush.

“It did, in fact, sound quite a lot like you might be having visions of the future and then trying to piece them together

in the right order. Plus, you apparently know the secret code word I have with my child, which nobody in the world knows but

us.”

Well. Fuck me.

Subtle as ever, Margot. Like a bullet through the head.

“Oh God.” I put my hands over my face. “I’m nowhere near as good at hiding this as I thought I was.”

“You’re really not.” Henry unpeels one of my fingers and grins at me through the gap. “I’m not saying I believe you, Margot. To be clear. I am a medical man. A human of science, of evidence and data.”

“Well, so am I!” I point at myself. “Meteorologist, remember?”

“But I am not arrogant enough to assume I know everything about how the universe works, and soothsayers have existed in some