by Alison May
Helen shook her head. She knew when she was beaten and the spinning hands and the rapidly gulped punch were making her head whirl. Alex leant over her shoulder. ‘I’ll have a go.’
He set his cup down on the edge of the card table. Putting the cup on the table? Helen bristled. She hadn’t thought of that.
The elf grinned. ‘All right then. Here she is.’ He flipped the remaining cards over to reveal the Queen. ‘Keep your eyes on her.’
Watching the guy’s hands was making Helen’s head spin unpleasantly. She took a sip from my second punch cup and stepped away.
‘Doctor Hart!’ Professor Midsomer clasped her hand and shook it enthusiastically. Very enthusiastically. Helen wondered how much punch he’d had. ‘So pleased you could make it.’
‘It’s a lovely party.’ That’s what Helen actually said when what she was thinking was, ‘Why the hell haven’t I heard about the job yet? You must have decided. You could have let me know and then I wouldn’t have had to get dressed up in this ridiculous get-up and troop down to this, very lovely but hugely expensive, party at all.’ But she didn’t say that, which was, she thought supremely professional and evidence of why he should have offered her the job already.
A woman, who looked uncannily familiar, appeared at Professor Midsomer’s shoulder. ‘Theo!’
‘Isabel!’
The pair exchanged cheek kisses. ‘Have you met Doctor Hart?’
The woman turned. ‘Dr Hart? Helen Hart? Would I have read a paper on female abolitionists?’
Helen nodded. ‘Last year?’
‘Fascinating. Although I wondered about your linking of abolition with prison reform.’
What had Alex’s advice for the evening been? It’s a party, not a conference. Apparently that meant that she was supposed to talk about what Alex termed ‘fun things’, which, she guessed, didn’t include the frankly very obvious parallels between the abolitionist movement and early prison reformers. Maybe it was best to keep things general rather than getting drawn into an argument. ‘You’re interested in slavery? I mean abolition.’
The woman shrugged. ‘Not specifically. It’s not really my area, although there are cultures that still practise slavery, of course.’
Helen nodded. Alex would almost certainly not consider slavery a party topic. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.’
The woman held out a slim, heavily ringed hand. ‘Isabel Sutton.’
Oh God. Isabel Sutton. Professor Isabel Sutton was head of the inter-disciplinary centre for gender studies in Manchester. She was practically famous. Not just an anthropologist, but an anthropologist who’d been on telly. BBC Four admittedly, but it was still telly. And radio too. Helen was at a party talking to an actual person who’d been on the Moral Maze. The light-headed feeling rushed back. She took another gulp of punch. If it were socially acceptable for professional academics to have posters of their crushes on their bedroom wall, Helen would have had Isabel Sutton. How could she have failed to recognise her? The fact that Professor Sutton was wearing a medieval serving wench outfit complete with cotton bonnet might not have helped.
And Helen had been trying to keep things light and not get into boring academic speech. She was Professor Isabel Sutton. She could take it. She probably thought Helen was an imbecile for not robustly defending her paper the moment she mentioned it. Helen opened her mouth.
‘Well it was lovely to meet you.’ Professor Sutton was moving away. ‘I probably better get back to my partner.’
‘Elizabeth Fry!’ Helen blurted the name at Isabel’s retreating back, but it was too late. She muttered it again for good measure. ‘Elizabeth Fry.’
‘I lost.’ Alex appeared fresh from a failure to “find the lady”. ‘What about Elizabeth Fry?’
‘She was a noted prison reformer with an interest in abolishing the slave trade.’
‘Okay.’ The tone of his voice implied that it was not okay, but that he didn’t really want to enquire further.
Emily
‘They’re over there.’ Dom points across the room to where Helen and Alex are standing. Alex. I feel sick.
‘They’re probably busy.’
Dom looks at me. ‘It’s a party. How would they be busy?’
I shrug. It was a stupid thing to say, but we can’t go over there. In my imagination I think I thought I could somehow not see Alex all night.
‘Come on.’ Dom starts across the room.
I scramble to catch up. ‘Do you want another drink?’
He shakes his head.
‘I wonder what’s outside,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘Tania wanted a trapeze.’ I point towards the exit. He’s staring at me. He can tell, can’t he? My face must be burning red. My hands are sweating.
He shrugs. ‘I thought you’d want to tell Helen.’
‘I do.’
‘Well now’s as good a time as any.’ He pauses. ‘I guess she’ll be your bridesmaid.’
Bridesmaid? Well it makes sense doesn’t it? We’re engaged, so of course we’d be thinking about our wedding. And weddings have bridesmaids, don’t they? I nod. ‘I guess so.’
‘Come on then.’
He grabs my hand and I have no choice but to follow in his wake across the party, buffeting maidens and woodland folk out of the way as we go. Alex is still there. We can’t tell them. I have to think of something. I have to do something.
Dom comes to a halt. ‘Hello again.’
I stand next to him, keeping hold of his hand. My fiancé’s hand. I’m aware that I’m looking at the floor. I need to stop that. I raise my eyes. There he is. Alex. Stupid, impulsive, skinny, unreliable Alex. Our eyes meet, and that feeling comes rushing back – the drowning feeling where I’m cut adrift with nothing to hold onto at all. I try to tell him something with my eyes, but I’m not sure what. Sorry? Don’t say anything? I can explain? It’s too much to put into a look, and I’m not sure it’s all true anyway. I definitely am sorry, but I have no idea how I’d even start to explain. I break away and try to tune into Helen and Dom’s conversation. It seems to be about Elizabeth Fry. I try to concentrate. Helen leans towards him. ‘And have you seen some of the costumes?’
Dom laughs. ‘I know.’ He gestures at his own outfit and then Alex’s. ‘King Arthur and Robin Hood. I mean we’re not even a consistent set of made up people.’
She laughs too. ‘That’s what I thought.’
I look around the room. I think people look nice.
‘Anyway we have news.’ Dom smiles in my direction. ‘You might have already noticed, but ...’ He tails off. ‘Do you want to tell them?’
I shake my head, trying to keep smiling. I’m not sure I trust myself to speak.
I feel Dominic’s grip on my hand tighten. ‘Emily and I are engaged. We’re going to get married.’
There’s a second before anyone says anything. It must only be a second but it feels like more. I can’t look at Alex, so I keep my eyes on Helen. Just for this one second her face seems to seize up. It’s like she shuts down completely and then reboots into happy mode, but there’s a gap. It’s not a gap where she looks sad, or shocked, or angry, or excited. It’s not a gap where she looks anything at all, but for a second she stopped, and then she remembered that she was happy and she carried on. I wonder if my face looks like that at the moment. I push the corners of my lips up higher and harder. I’m happy. So very happy.
‘Congratulations!’ Helen wraps her arms around Dom in slightly awkward hug and then comes and wraps her arms round me. ‘Congratulations! You must be overjoyed.’
I nod, because what else am I going to do? As she releases me from the hug I allow myself a tiny glance at Alex. He’s looking away. Please don’t let him say anything. He has to understand. This is what I have to do. Dom can give me what I need.
Alex breaks into a grin. ‘Another single guy bites the dust, then?’ He shakes Dom’s hand. ‘I won’t complain. That’s one less shark in the water for the rest of us
.’
Dom smiles but doesn’t laugh. I’m not sure he would ever really have been considered a shark in the water.
Alex is still grinning. ‘So we’re celebrating? We should probably raise a glass then.’
‘I don’t want to drink too much.’ Helen tries to excuse herself from the round.
‘Don’t be daft. I’ll get some more punch. You heard the girl. It’s mainly fruit.’
I suspect it’s mainly fruit in the same way that vodka is mainly potato, but I don’t say anything. I could use a drink. Alex flags down a passing waiter and starts handing cups of punch around. My fingertips brush his hand as I take a cup. If he notices he doesn’t show it. He turns back towards us. ‘To the happy couple.’
Helen nods. ‘The happy couple.’
I chink my cup against Dom’s and take a sip of punch.
Alex swigs most of his cup down in one go. ‘Well we better not keep you. I’m sure you’ve got lots of people you want to share your news with.’
Helen nods. ‘Yeah, and we’ve got to ...’ She gestures towards the doors but doesn’t finish the sentence.
‘Wait.’ I remember the other thing, the thing that this time yesterday was the most important thing in the world. I take a step after her and grab her arm to slow her down. ‘Did you get the thing I asked you to collect?’
She stops and stares at me. ‘What?’
‘The thing from the library.’
‘Right. It’s in my bag. Do you need it now?’
Of course I need it now. It’s vital to the plan. Then I remember that Helen has no idea about the plan. I force myself to smile. ‘Please.’
She nods. ‘I’ll catch up with Alex and then I’ll get it for you.’
‘Thank you.’ I try to keep my voice calm, but this is it. I’ve got the evidence. I’ve got Tania exactly where I want her. I scan the room. She’s standing by the bar with her arm linked through Dad’s. He’s smiling, a big beaming smile. I remind myself that none of this is my fault. Tania’s the one who’s in the wrong. If he’s upset it’ll be her fault. I’m bringing the truth to light. I’m doing a good thing. I’m doing the right thing.
Alex
Helen caught up with Alex as he made it into the foyer. He let her take his arm. It was a gesture of support, without it being at all clear who was supporting who.
‘Are you all right?’
Alex paused. It was what he’d been about to ask her. He nodded. ‘You?’
‘I think so.’
There was a ‘quiet room’ set up on the other side of the hallway, where party-weary guests could rest their feet and heads. The night was young, and enthusiasm for the revels was yet to fade, leaving the room deserted. Alex and Helen collapsed onto a sofa. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence.
Alex closed his eyes for a moment. They were moist. He screwed his lids closed more tightly. If no tears got out, then he wasn’t crying. It was a point of pride. Alex Lyle did not cry over girls. He was a shark. A lone hunter. He didn’t do meeting parents, or making plans, or joint Christmas cards. He didn’t do emotional involvement, or lazy lie-in, or third dates. Alex was self-sufficient. A connoisseur of all the delights of femininity, rather than a committed devotee of any one example of the form. Whatever he’d been thinking about Emily was an aberration. Alex absolutely did not do falling in love. He opened his eyes.
Helen was sat next to him, staring straight ahead. He remembered her performance with the vodka and the wastebin last night. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
She nodded. ‘It is what it is, isn’t it?’
‘And what is it?’
She shrugged. ‘I think it’s like the stages of grief. The last ten years have been denial. Last night was the start of depression. I’ve got anger to get through and then acceptance and I’m sorted.’
That didn’t sound right. ‘I think anger comes before depression.’
‘Maybe it’s different if nobody’s actually died.’
‘And I think there are five stages of grief.’
Helen screwed up her face. ‘Well what’s the other one then?’
‘I have no idea.’
She sighed. ‘Maybe I can make a deal with the universe?’
‘What?’
‘Maybe if I really never drink again, or if I eat all my greens or something, he won’t go through with it. Or maybe I need to actually do something, rather than being all nice about this, or maybe if I’m really strong and hold out a bit longer he’ll change his mind?’
‘That doesn’t sound like doing anything.’
‘Give us a coin.’
‘What for?’ Alex searched through the pockets of his Robin Hood hose. ‘I don’t have any change.’
‘Never mind. It was stupid. I was going to toss a coin. If it was heads I was going to go and throw my body at him.’
‘And if it was tails?’
‘Probably just stick with the waiting.’
Alex laughed. ‘It would have been tails.’
Maybe she was right though. Maybe they did need to do something. A thought popped into his head almost immediately. ‘Wait there.’
He returned a few minutes later bearing two more cups of punch. He handed one to Helen.
‘I’m not sure this is mainly fruit.’
‘Screw it.’ Alex downed his drink, and tried to formulate a plan inside his increasingly fuzzy punch-brain. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get back on the horse.’
‘What horse?’
‘The horse horse. You know, you have to get straight back on it.’
‘Right.’ Helen didn’t sound entirely convinced by his plan. Alex replayed the conversation in his head. That might be because he hadn’t actually explained what the plan was.
‘What we’re going to do is, we’re going to go back into that party and we are going to have an amazing night.’
Helen shook her head. ‘How?’
‘Well how do you normally have an amazing night?’
She shrugged. ‘I like reviewing dissertation proposals.’
Alex closed his eyes. Sometimes his landlady had no idea at all. ‘It’s a party. Dissertation proposals aren’t party-ish. Why did we come to this thing to start with?’
‘Because of the job.’
That was right. That had been the whole point of this expedition; to allow Helen to dazzle and impress her prospective permanent employer. ‘Right then. So you’re going to get back in there and be all clever and that.’
‘All clever and that?’
‘Yeah.’ Another thought struck him. ‘Maybe have another punch. I think the punch definitely makes us sound cleverer.’
Helen smiled. ‘I’m not sure that’s right. Anyway I’ve already talked to Professor Midsomer. He didn’t seem very interested in me.’
‘That’s not the point.’ Suddenly Alex had a great sense of clarity. Helen was going to get her job. He was going to get back on his horse. Everything was going to be all right. ‘You need to make him interested. Flirt with his friend or something.’
‘What?’
‘It never fails. Hot girl. Plain friend.’
‘Alex!’
‘Hot girls always have a plain friend. The hot girl won’t look at you twice, so you chat up her plain friend. Suddenly she’s not getting all the attention and she’ll do anything she can to get the spotlight back on her.’
Helen was silent for a moment. ‘Are you suggesting that I try to secure a serious academic position by making the Head of Department jealous?’
Put like that it did sound like a stupid plan.
‘It’s brilliant.’ Helen jumped off the sofa.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To talk about Elizabeth Fry.’ Alex watched her stomp out of the room, only slightly unsteadily. Right. That was one of them back in the game. Now it was his turn. He sat up straight and closed his eyes. Just a few metres away from him was a room full of party guests. Disgruntled nineteen year old nieces who woul
d give anything not to have been carolled into costume and dragged to Uncle Theo’s stupid party. Divorcee friends of the bride drowning their jealousy in pints of punch. Waitresses. Waitresses were people too, Alex reminded himself. Never underestimate the level of boredom and desperation achieved by the staff at this sort of event. And all of them bound together under a banner of romance and love, and then fuelled with alcohol. A celibate monk would struggle to walk the length of that room without pulling. Alex tilted his head to one side and then the other, before rolling his shoulders and standing up. Game on.
Dominic
Dominic stepped up to his fiancée, as she watched Helen run out of the party after her housemate. ‘What were you talking about?’
Emily shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
Dominic frowned. ‘Are you sure? It sounded pretty intense.’
‘It’s private.’
Dominic furrowed his brow. They were engaged. It was new territory for him, but secrets on day one seemed like a bad sign. ‘We’re getting married. You know you can tell me.’
Emily looked away for a moment. Dominic stayed quiet. Sometimes you could let a silence do the work for you. It was a tactic he used in tutorials. Less confident teachers panicked if they asked a question and didn’t get an answer right away. Dominic knew better. If you let the silence hang, after about seven or eight seconds the awkwardness would overwhelm at least one student and someone would come up with an answer. He watched Emily shuffle her feet, and waited.
‘It’s Tania,’ she blurted.
‘What about her?’
Emily took a step towards him so she could talk directly into his ear, the rabble of party noise blocking what she was saying to passers-by. ‘You know I said she wasn’t right for him? Right from the start?’
Dominic nodded.
‘Well I found out what she’s been hiding. I’m going to tell my dad tonight, before he chucks the rest of his life away on her.’
Unease sent a shiver down Dominic’s back. ‘What’s she been hiding?’
‘Well ...’
Dominic stood back and held up a hand. ‘Actually don’t tell me. Isn’t it up to her what she tells people?’
