[The next few hundred words of actual story for you this week. Remember: this is a Beyond Zeroeth Draft and should be read as such!]
Once they’re actually on deck, Simon’s hand still under his elbow, Benjamin has to admit it isn’t…entirely terrible. The sea is smooth and calm, the steady breeze over the rail is much to be preferred to the stuffy cabin, and Simon has managed to find peppermint tea.
Benjamin cradles the glass and only looks up from his contemplation of the floating leaves when Simon laughs. Again. Oddly, Benjamin doesn’t mind so much when Simon laughs at him.
‘I’ve never seen you look so happy. Here — sit down.’ Simon waves him over to a deck chair and sits on the one beside it.
Benjamin sits down carefully. ‘You only met me five days ago.’
‘Well, yes, but if I’d known mint tea would cheer you up so much, I’d’ve gone looking for it days ago.’
Benjamin shrugs. ‘My grandmother grew it in her garden — it was her remedy of choice for anything short of a broken leg.’
‘Ah, Eddes — glad to see you’re still with us.’
Benjamin looks up and, automatically, tries to stand but Professor Tregold waves to him to stay where he is. ‘Yes, sir — I’m so sorry not to have been able to do the essay — I –‘
Tregold waves the essay away as well. ‘Maberley’s the one in charge of all that; I doubt he’ll hold you responsible for working while seasick. Hollingshead.’ This last with a nod to the tall young man who strolls up with Preble and Williams in tow.
‘So we haven’t lost you yet, Benjy?’ Hollingshead inquires, hands in his pockets.
‘Not quite yet, no.’ Benjamin takes a swallow of the mint tea to give himself something to do and blesses his luck that Simon asks Tregold about their first site visit. Maberley comes up while Tregold is enthusing about the Valley of the Kings. He listens for a moment then, shaking his head slightly, comes to the side of Benjamin’s chair.
‘Are you feeling better, Eddes?’
Benjamin nods. ‘A — a little, sir. Carruthers was worried I was going moldy, so he insisted I come up on deck.’ He gestures with the half-empty tea glass. ‘It’s better than I thought.’
‘Mm.’ Maberley glances up and takes a survey of the horizon and nods. ‘You and I will have to talk about catching you up on the background work before we leave the city.’
‘Of course.’ Benjamin thinks of the books he had tucked into every possible corner of his suitcase and hopes they’re the right ones.
‘I’m sure you and I brought different volumes with us,’ Simon says quietly, leaning forward as Maberley and Tregold get caught up in a discussion about the hotel and room arrangements. ‘If you need anything of mine, just say.’
There’s a loud click and Benjamin looks up in time to see Smythe fiddling with his photographic apparatus.
‘I see we’re to be well-documented,’ Professor Maberley says; Professor Tregold doesn’t look entirely pleased but says nothing and Hollingshead — of course, Benjamin thinks — immediately strikes a pose against the rail.
~~~
By the time they actually get into the hotel rooms in Jaffa, Benjamin is convinced that he never wants to travel again. He’s tired and dusty and footsore; his luggage has added at least ten pounds a piece; and he is going to find a way to trip Hollingshead if the man doesn’t stop prancing because he was the only one of them with enough money in his pocket to hire a porter.
It gives Benjamin some small amount of comfort that the dons, too, are lugging their own belongings.
~~~
The pitcher of clear water and the clean towel in the room are such a relief that the first thing he can think to do is rinse his face and hands. It isn’t until he emerges from the folds of the towel that he realises Carruthers is in the room and, again, smiling at him.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asks, dropping his own bag by the side of the narrow bed closest to the door.
Benjamin coughs and swipes at his chin, sure that there’s water running down his throat and he’s probably ruined his collar. The collar has been a mistake to start with, to be sure; he won’t bother with one again. ‘Well. The fittings on the ship were hardly — generous.’
‘Adequate, at best,’ Carruthers agrees, wandering over to the window and pushing open the carved shutter.
Benjamin watches him lean out over the broad sill, apparently watching the street below, and buries his face in the towel again to give himself a moment.
He’s been aware of his particular tastes since he was fourteen and aware that he had better keep them well-hidden since he was sixteen. If he’s very lucky, then rooming with Carruthers will bring to light some terrible flaw in the man’s character that will allow Benjamin to take the step back he knows he needs to.
‘Well.’ Carruthers claps his hands on the window sill and turns back into the room. ‘What do you say to some dinner?’
‘Oh — er –‘ Benjamin blinks and refolds the towel with more care than is strictly necessary to give himself time to think.
He has enough money for this trip — just enough. It wasn’t that his father expected him to starve or live off bread and cheese or anything like that but the thought of going down into the dining room and facing the frantic calculations in foreign mathematics over what would be the cheapest dish on the menu–
‘My treat.’
‘What?’ Benjamin blinks again.
‘My treat,’ Simon repeats. ‘You haven’t had a square meal since we left England.’
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