by Paige Toon
‘We’ll be quick,’ he murmurs into my mouth before kissing me passionately.
Trinity’s May Ball takes place every year on a Monday evening towards the end of June, and on the Monday morning Lukas comes to the house with what he says is a surprise for me. He’s more animated than I usually see him and I can tell he’s excited. He ushers me upstairs to my room and closes the door, before handing me a black plastic bag.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘Open it,’ he replies.
I peek inside to see a white box. I pull it out and lift up the lid to discover another package wrapped in white tissue paper – as though a shop assistant at a nice shop has wrapped up a purchase. But this tissue paper is crumpled and the package has already been opened once. Lukas is almost jumping on the spot. I’ve never seen him like this. Curiously, I peel back the paper to find a fold of shimmering greeny-gold fabric. I pull it out and realise it’s a dress.
‘What . . . How?’ I’m a bit lost for words.
‘Try it on,’ he says.
‘What’s it for?’ I ask, perplexed. When am I ever going to get a chance to wear something like this?
‘For the ball,’ he says simply.
‘But I already have a ball dress.’ I’m bewildered. He knows this. I showed it to him.
‘I thought you could do better.’ He reaches forward to start unbuttoning my shirt. I push his hand away. He freezes and stares at me.
‘Hang on,’ I say, wanting to clear this up. ‘Where did you get it from?’
‘I had it made.’
‘You had it made?’
‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘I had it made in Paris. It arrived this morning.’
‘You had it made in Paris?’ I say the words slowly.
‘Yes,’ he replies, regarding me with a deadpan expression.
What student has a dress made for her, let alone in Paris?
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘No, I do,’ I say, putting the emphasis carefully on ‘do’, ‘but I’m just a little confused.’
‘Try it on,’ he says again.
I hesitate and then do as he suggests, out of interest more than anything else.
It fits like a glove and skims the floor. I need heels.
‘You need heels,’ he says before I can go to the wardrobe.
‘I know,’ I reply bluntly. I don’t understand why I’m annoyed with him – he bought me a dress, no, he had a dress made for me – but still I feel a bit put out.
I slide my feet into some black heels and then open the wardrobe door further to reveal the hanging mirror inside. I regard my reflection with surprise. It is the most stunning dress I’ve ever seen. The colour is sublime. Lukas appears in the reflection behind me.
‘What do you think?’ he asks quietly, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.
I nod. I’m lost for words for the second time that morning.
‘You look beautiful,’ he says seriously, turning me to face him.
‘What about my other dress?’ I ask, aware of it hanging on the rail beside me. It’s as if I’m going to hurt its feelings.
‘You can still wear it,’ he says. ‘Out to dinner, sometime.’
‘Didn’t you like it?’ Now my feelings are hurt.
‘Yes.’ He shrugs. ‘But it isn’t special. This –’ he spins me around again to face the mirror – ‘is special. There’s no other dress like it.’
He’s right, of course. I debated with Lizzy about whether or not someone else might wear the same black dress as me – always a concern.
‘I’ll pick you up at six,’ he says, pecking me on the cheek.
‘You don’t need to,’ I reply, struggling to tear my eyes away from the girl in the mirror. ‘I’ll come to you.’
‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight for a minute when you look like this.’
Lukas gives me flowers – cream-coloured roses to match the one in his buttonhole.
‘Should I bring them?’ I ask hesitantly. I remember last year seeing some girls walking around with small bunches of flowers, but I’m not sure what Lukas expects of me.
‘Put them in a vase.’ He nods to the kitchen. I do as he says, then return to him. He looks dashing – that’s the word I’d use to describe him – in a well-fitted black suit and white bow tie.
‘Where are your shoes?’ he asks, glancing at the bottom of my dress. The hem is dragging on the floor.
‘Here.’ I grab my heels from under the hallstand and lift them up, then grin as I kick my legs out to show him my flip-flops. ‘If we’re walking now, I won’t be able to last in them all night.’ Trinity isn’t far, but it would feel like it in heels.
‘I brought the car,’ he says.
‘Really?’ I crane my neck, but I can’t see the road over the wall at the end of the front garden.
‘Yes,’ he says, and then he nods meaningfully at my shoes.
‘Okay, then.’ I hold onto his arm and wobble on one foot as I replace my flip-flops.
‘Where are you going to leave it?’ I ask of the car. There’s nowhere to park near college – not for students, anyway.
‘Klaus is waiting to take it from me.’
‘Klaus?’ I ask, then, excitedly: ‘Am I going to meet him?’
He nods abruptly. ‘If you wish.’
‘Woo-hoo!’ I giggle with glee. He raises one eyebrow at me.
We drive as far into town as we can go before the roads become pedestrianised or only navigable by bus, taxi or bicycle.
Lukas pulls up around the corner from Trinity. A slight blond man, who I can only assume to be Klaus, rushes to the driver’s door and opens it. He’s so much younger than I expected him to be. Mid-twenties, perhaps? For some reason I thought he’d be an old codger, like the butler who works for Batman.
Lukas snaps something in German and nods in my direction. Klaus looks almost as mortified as I do as he rushes around to my door. He gives me a curt bow as I climb out.
‘Thank you,’ I say as warmly as I can muster, embarrassed by Lukas’s behaviour. I hold out my hand. ‘I’m Alice,’ I say. He looks alarmed for a moment before dutifully shaking it.
Lukas gets out of the car and says something else in German. It’s strange hearing him talk in his own language. I don’t know what he’s saying, but his tone is sharp. Klaus replies in German – I hear the words ‘Herr Heuber’ – and the next thing I know he’s in the driver’s seat and pulling away swiftly from the kerb. Lukas smiles at me, his expression softening. He offers me his arm.
‘Shall we?’
I nod, but I don’t smile back. I feel oddly uneasy. We set off towards Trinity, but I can’t let it lie.
‘Did you have a go at him for not opening my door first?’ I ask.
‘Yes. He should know better,’ he replies gravely.
I don’t know what to say. I haven’t seen this side of him before. I let go of his arm.
‘What is it?’ he asks, sensing the atmosphere.
‘I don’t know . . . I mean, he’s just a man. I’m not used to hearing you speak to people like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like . . . Like he’s below you.’
‘You’re being naive,’ he says, which I find immensely patronising. I’m about to tell him as much, when he reaches for my hand. ‘Hey,’ he says gently. ‘I’m sorry. Don’t let it ruin tonight.’ He squeezes my hand, but I don’t squeeze his back.
All around us, students are dressed up to the nines, on their way to one ball or another. Clare and Jesus Colleges also host their balls tonight, and Cambridge is buzzing even more than usual. We approach Great Gate and stand in line with our tickets. The queue is much longer than I expected, wrapping around the perimeter of Great Court, but the atmosphere and anticipation are electric and I soon forget about Lukas’s behaviour regarding Klaus. We finally reach the front and hand over our tickets, then we head straight to the champagne bar under the cloist
ers of the Wren Library before wandering to the bridge. The fairground and catering marquees are on the south paddock, on the other side of the river.
‘Wait,’ I say to Lukas as we cross the bridge. ‘I want to see if I can spot Jessie.’
He reluctantly joins me in scanning the water. I go to the other side of the bridge and he follows half-heartedly.
I got a whole lot of grief from my punter pals for coming to the ball tonight. Good-natured grief, but grief none the less. ‘Ooh, look at her, hasn’t she gone up in the world!’ ‘She’ll be too posh to talk to us commoners now.’ That sort of thing. Lukas starts shifting his feet. The river is already crowded with punts, but I can’t see anyone I know.
‘It’s a bit early for the tours, actually,’ I say with mild disappointment. ‘I’ll look out for him later.’
He nods brusquely and puts his hand on my back to guide me across the bridge. I’m quite sure he’s not relishing that thought. He still has a problem with Jessie. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven him for his attitude early on in our relationship. Luckily they don’t see each other very often.
‘LUKAS!’ We turn to see Harry and Matthew crossing the bridge behind us.
‘Hello!’ he says, grinning. I’m glad they’ve cheered him up. They slap each other on the back and then Harry turns to me. He looks me up and down and then stumbles backwards, pretending to be struck dumb by my appearance. Matthew picks him up and whacks his arm.
‘You idiot,’ he jokes, then smiles at me. ‘You look beautiful, Alice.’
‘Oi!’ Harry exclaims. ‘I was going to say that!’
‘Too late,’ Matthew replies, not taking his eyes from mine. Lukas puts his arm around my waist.
‘You both look very smart,’ I say, smiling at them, then my eyes widen with shock. ‘Harry!’ I gasp. His face freezes. ‘You’ve ironed your shirt!’
He puffs out his chest like a peacock, before prancing about. ‘I bought it at the weekend.’
I laugh. ‘That explains it.’
‘You two coming on the dodgems?’ Matthew asks us.
‘Ooh, yeah, I love the dodgems!’ I cry.
Lukas shakes his head. ‘No. But we’ll walk there with you.’
Oh. ‘Really?’ I ask with surprise as we set off.
The corners of his lips turn down and he shrugs.
‘Why don’t you like the dodgems?’ I ask under my breath.
‘I just don’t,’ he replies abruptly.
We stand and watch as Harry and Matthew rush onto the track and climb into separate cars. They laugh as they collide with each other. I hop on the spot, desperate to join in the fun. Matthew glides to a halt in front of us.
‘Want to jump in?’ he calls in my direction.
I glance at Lukas. ‘Can I?’
He nods, but doesn’t smile. Where’s his sense of fun? He’s starting to annoy me.
Harry comes along and crashes into the back of Matthew, whose head jerks forward.
‘You moron!’ Matthew yells at him.
Harry beckons desperately at me. ‘Get into mine!’
Bugger it. ‘I don’t trust you!’ I shout at Harry as I clamber ungraciously into Matthew’s car. He zooms off. I’m laughing as he attempts to take out Harry’s back end. I glance over at Lukas on the sidelines, wanting to see him smile at us, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I scan the crowd with a bad feeling in my stomach. The ride comes to an end.
‘Stay on,’ Matthew urges, briefly touching my leg.
‘No, I’d better go.’ I hurry across the track and carefully climb down the steps, searching the crowds. I can’t see him anywhere. I search for several minutes before returning to the dodgems. Surely he’ll come and find me here. I hope so. Harry spots me and waves. I smile a shaky smile back and turn to look behind me. No sign. I wait with an uncomfortable feeling. Someone touches my back. I spin around to see him.
‘Where did you go?’ I demand to know.
‘For a wander.’ His eyes follow Matthew as he races around the track.
‘I couldn’t find you! I was worried!’ Am I overreacting?
‘I’m back now.’ Finally he meets my gaze. His expression is cool. ‘Let’s go.’
He sets off and I follow him. ‘What’s wrong with you tonight?’ I ask.
‘What makes you think something’s wrong with me?’ he replies over his shoulder as I hurry after him in my heels.
‘Come on, Lukas,’ I snap, catching up with him. ‘Don’t play games.’
‘He likes you, you know.’ He looks across at me. His tone is dry.
‘Who likes me?’
‘You know who I’m talking about.’
‘Harry?’ I ask. Of course, I know he means Matthew. Harry is no threat to Lukas.
He regards me wryly. I look away.
‘No, he doesn’t,’ I brush him off. It’s clear we’re now talking about Matthew. It became apparent quite early on that he and I have a bit in common – he’s also studying English Lit – and we often find ourselves talking about all things literature, while Lukas and Harry rattle on about astrophysics and God knows what else. Also, Matthew has given me a few too many meaningful looks since that first time I met him at the college bar. A few too many to ignore. I’ve suspected for a while that he’s attracted to me.
‘Anyway, what does it matter?’ I continue. ‘I’m with you. He knows I’m with you.’
‘You’re right,’ he says, leading me away. ‘It doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to admit it.’
I feel slighted, and I don’t know why. Neither of us has done anything wrong.
‘I heard you discussing with him recently that you’re thinking of taking a language module next term,’ he comments offhandedly.
‘Yes, that’s right. Mandarin.’
It’s been two years since Joe suggested I learn my grandmother’s language at university. Two years that I’ve wasted. I mentioned my regrets to Matthew recently and he insisted it wasn’t too late – I could still learn some of the basics in my third year.
‘Yet you’ve never attempted to learn a word of German,’ Lukas adds.
His comment strikes me dumb.
‘Let’s go to the comedy club,’ he says.
I don’t feel much like smiling. I hope the comedians are good. Harry and Matthew join us in the marquee. I make a point of putting my hand on Lukas’s leg and cuddling up to him more than I usually do. He doesn’t respond, but he does seem to relax more after that.
The comedy does the trick, and later, much later, we return to the champagne bar, just the two of us. I’ve been trying to pace myself, but I feel decidedly tipsy. I don’t know how I’ll make it through to six a.m., when the ball ends. Lukas passes me a glass of champagne and puts his arm around my waist.
‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ We chink glasses.
‘Are you having fun?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ I smile. ‘I love seeing it from the inside. Thank you for inviting me tonight.’
‘Who else would I ask?’ he replies with amusement.
A thought occurs to me. ‘Did you bring anyone last year?’
He shrugs. ‘No.’
‘I remember looking for you.’
‘Looking for me?’
‘Yes. I was down on the river.’ I suddenly remember Jessie. ‘Hey, let’s see if we can spot my punting pals!’
I drag him towards the bridge. The fireworks are due to start soon, so it’s even more crowded than before. I manage to squeeze between a couple of people leaning on the stone wall. The punts are well and truly crammed in now. I spot Chris leaning on his pole at the back of a boat.
‘CHRIS!’
He doesn’t hear me.
‘CHRIS!’ I shout louder. And then I see Jessie. I wave with delight.
He puts his hands to his mouth and shouts with glee at the top of his voice: ‘VAGINA!’ My mouth falls open. Little shit! I’m aghast. I quickly recover and am about to give him the finger when Lukas roughly drags me back from the wa
ll.
‘What the hell is he thinking?’ he hisses, angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
‘He’s only joking!’ I exclaim, horrified by his reaction. I rub at my arm – it feels tender from where he grabbed me.
‘He’s pathetic!’
Right, that’s it. The night is under definite threat of ruination. People around us turn to stare. Lukas gives me a look that makes my blood run cold and then storms off through the crowd, shoving past people as he goes. I’m absolutely mortified. I hurry after him, not knowing what else to do. Fireworks start to go off behind me, but I’m far too distracted to pay them any attention.
‘Lukas!’ I shout, my eyes on his departing back. We’re pushing against the crowd because everyone is coming this way to watch the fireworks. ‘LUKAS!’ I shout again, but his pace doesn’t slow. Eventually there’s a break in the crowd and I manage to totter after him in my heels. ‘STOP!’ I shout, reaching for his hand and tugging it, hard. He spins around.
‘Stop it!’ I gasp. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Home,’ he spits.
‘What? Why?’ He doesn’t answer. ‘Because of Jessie?’
‘I’ve had enough,’ he says, glaring at me.
‘Enough of what? Me?’
He shakes his head and keeps walking.
‘Wait!’ I call after him desperately. He pauses in his tracks, and then turns around to face me.
‘I’m going back to Germany on Friday,’ he says over the sound of the explosions. The sky above our heads is glowing with colour.
‘I didn’t think you were leaving for two more weeks?’
‘I’m going on Friday,’ he reiterates.
‘Why?’
His expression softens, but only slightly. ‘There’s so much . . .’ His voice trails off.
‘What is it?’ I ask. ‘What’s wrong?’
He takes a deep breath, but won’t look at me.
‘Lukas,’ I say gently, taking his hand and willing him to open up to me. ‘What is it? Is it your parents?’
A long moment goes by before he nods. ‘But not just them.’
‘What else? Who else?’
He meets my eyes. ‘We should go back to my room,’ he says solemnly.
I follow him out of the gate, feeling sick to the pit of my stomach.
