The Ecliptic by Benjamin Wood Page B

for Christopher, of course, though I could understand Willa’s dilemma, and I thought she was nicely conflicted. It’s strange, I almost never feel for
the man in that kind of scenario—usually, it’s the woman who has to make all the compromises and do all the forgiving. I found that quite refreshing. It’s another kind of
infidelity that’s breaking them up, isn’t it? That’s how I read it, anyway. The affair is between Willa and her art . . . I liked that idea. If you’d given me more than a
few pages, I could’ve found out what happens next. Now I’ll have to wait and catch it in the West End.’
    For a moment, Mac said nothing. I could not tell if she was glad or dispirited. She tightened her fist around the pages, closing her eyes, and when she blinked them open again, they were glassy
and mapped with tiny lines. ‘You have no idea how much it means to hear that, Knell. Just to know it made you feel something. Thank you. That was all I needed.’
    ‘Wait until you hear my notes on the punctuation.’
    She smiled. ‘Don’t ruin it.’
    ‘Does this mean we can finish our dinner in peace?’
    ‘OK, but Quickman has to tone down the sanctimony. It’s getting out of hand.’
    ‘I’ll speak to him about that.’
    ‘Good.’
    We headed back to the mess hall. ‘What kind of name is Lindo, anyway?’ I said.
    ‘I don’t know. Ask the provost.’
    ‘Hard to take a man seriously with a name like that.’
    But Mac had already tuned out. She was hesitating at the threshold, studying her pages. ‘You really think there’s something worth developing here?’
    With my hand on my heart, I said, ‘I’d stake my sponsor’s life on it.’
    ‘God, it’s such a relief. I can’t tell you how much better I feel.’ She edged away. ‘I might just go to my room and dig out the rest of the draft.
Carpe
diem
and all that.’
    ‘You’re not going to stay and eat with us?’
    She started to backpedal. ‘No, I’ve lost my appetite. Give my pudding to Tif.’
    ‘That’ll go down well.’
    And it was then, as Mac was heading back across the landing, that a surge of footsteps came up the stairway behind us. There was such a frantic energy to the noise, it seemed as though some
forest animal had been loosed inside the mansion. But a familiar shape revealed itself—a head of brown hair, a bulky set of shoulders. It was Fullerton. He went dashing up the stairs so fast
he could not control his feet. A toecap caught on the very last step, tripping him. His body hurtled forwards, skidding. Knees and elbows slapped the parquet, but he rose quickly to his haunches,
stilling his breaths.
    ‘Are you OK?’ Mac asked from the corridor.
    He seemed to be startled by the sound of her voice, shifting his head in her direction. ‘Hello? Who’s there?’
    ‘It’s MacKinney,’ she said. ‘I’m right here.’
    ‘Hello? Is someone out there?’
    I stepped closer. ‘Fullerton, it’s
us
. It’s Knell and MacKinney. Are you all right?’ But when he heard my voice coming from the other side of the room, a greater
panic wracked him. He stood gawping at the stained-glass lampshade above his head, as though fearing it would drop. He wiped the spittle from his chin, checking his fingers. ‘I think
I’m bleeding,’ he said. ‘I don’t have much time. How do I get out?’
    ‘You’re fine,’ Mac told him.
    ‘
Please
. How do I get out?’
    ‘Calm down there, sunshine. You’re not making any sense.’ She turned to me, her face bent with concern. ‘He must’ve hit his head or something.’
    ‘Just tell me which stairs to take,’ the boy went on. ‘Are you there?’
    ‘Fullerton, we’re standing right in front of you,’ I said. ‘Stay still. I’m coming to help you.’ Slowly, I moved into his path, not wanting to alarm him.
    ‘You’re so faint. Please—how do I get out?’ He began to peer at the ceiling, turning in circles.
    I was near enough to touch him now, and I held my hand out, hoping he