Lucas typed as the hopelessness continued to spread, a palpable weight in his limbs. Writing something was better than writing nothing. Something could be improved on. Nothing was a blank screen. Lucas stared at the words, telling himself to get a grip. There were no longer any excuses for being so hamstrung. Heidi was proving a stalwart about every damn thing, and the previous afternoon he had finally sent his statement to the Master, a lucid, concise, unambiguous account of Moira’s visit to his rooms of which he was proud. Not ‘his’ truth but ‘the’ truth, Lucas had mused darkly during the days of working on it, crafting and recrafting the testimony into a shape that could brook no misinterpretation. The next step now, if Moira played ball, would be a further meeting, and he felt hopeful about that too. Time had passed. Dust had settled. The new academic year was just a few weeks away. Resolution was in everybody’s interests.

And on the Dylan front too, the last twenty-four hours had presented a promising development, in the form of two postcards, both of the Eiffel Tower, one for Esther and one for Lily. Esther’s had contained some typewritten daft sentence about how good the crêpes were, and Lily’s a small capital D initial beside a kiss. They had shown them off on a FaceTime call the previous afternoon, and Lucas, between reiterating frustration and anger at the situation, had shared the rejoicing at this proof that Dylan still lived and breathed.

Lucas switched tabs to check his email. There was nothing from the Master or the Chaplain, only various administrative matters he couldn’t face, along with a note from Ralph saying he and the family were back from Rhodes and what about a pint before the imminent mayhem of pre-term preparations?

I’m actually up against it at the moment.

Lucas typed back feebly, his innards convulsing at the memory of the Master saying the Senior Tutor would have to be involved if the mediation route was pursued. Mediation. Good God.

Give me a week and I’ll get back to you.

He finished, quickly pressing send and hating the oddness of not wanting to meet with someone whose company he usually enjoyed. A few moments later a text notification popped up on his phone.

If you’re up against it you def need a pint. What about tonight? R.

Heidi is off to Germany tomorrow so no can do – sorry.