The Second Time I Saw You: The Oxford Blue Series #2

by Pippa Croft

  ‘Oh, hi, Professor Rafe.’

  ‘Nice to see you’re enjoying yourself.’ He glances at the racket bag on my shoulder. Why, oh, why does he have to ‘bump into me’ when I’m on my way back from a game with Immy, instead of when I’m hard at work in the Sackler Library or the Bod?

  ‘Oxford has so many distractions, doesn’t it?’ He peers at my tennis outfit from over his geeky wire-rimmed specs in a way he thinks is intimidating yet sexy. Mercifully I have on my Lululemon tracksuit over my tee and shorts. He seems jaunty, so maybe he’s been shagging the ‘female friend’ he mentioned to me at the end of last term; it would make a change from hitting on his students.

  ‘I’ve been trying to ignore them but I needed some fresh air and exercise,’ I say, already aware that I’m apologizing for something I have no need to regret. On the other hand, I did miss some of the first week of term and an important tute at the end of the last one to go to the hunt ball at Falconbury. Rafe warned me off Alexander and made it clear that I shouldn’t let our relationship interfere with my studies. I was pissed at being patronized and at the personal intrusion but I can’t deny I’ve had a lot of time off.

  ‘Exercise is good for the brain but I’m glad to hear you’ve had your head down. I was going to ask you this at our next tutorial but as you’re here, carpe diem and all that. Who knows what fate has in store for us …’

  ‘Carpe diem. Of course.’ I’m not totally sure what he’s referring to, but it doesn’t take Patrick Jane to surmise it has something to do with Alexander. Rafe was his pastoral tutor while Alexander was an undergraduate at one of the other colleges. His leer flicks over my body like a lizard’s tongue and I suppress a shudder.

  ‘What did you want to ask me, professor?’

  ‘There’s a showing of Bertolucci’s Il Conformista at the Phoenix.’

  ‘Oh, OK …’

  ‘You do know it? It features thirties Fascist art and design. It’s the supreme example of the relationship between architecture and film.’

  ‘Isn’t it also about a student planning to assassinate his tutor?’

  He smirks. ‘That is one of the themes, yes.’

  ‘So it’s a faculty trip? Who else is going?’

  ‘Well, I was rather thinking of making it a one-to-one, a sort of off-site tutorial. I know you’re interested in that era and the film is set in Rome. It’s only on for one night, if you’re not doing anything on Saturday.’

  Just the two of us? ‘Well, thanks so much for inviting me and I’d have loved to, but I’ve already got tickets for the “Club to Catwalk” exhibition at the V&A on Saturday.’

  ‘ “Club to Catwalk”?’ Rafe looks even less impressed than Alexander did.

  ‘Yes, with Emma Hunt, Alexander’s sister. She’s planning to do a theatrical costume course at Saint Martins. I feel obliged to go with her, to be honest.’

  He smiles but his eyes are as cold as a lizard’s. ‘In that case, if you’re forced to go …’

  ‘I wouldn’t say “forced” but, in the circumstances, I think she needs the support and encouragement.’

  ‘Of course. I suppose I can ask one of my other students to come with me instead. I know that they’d all jump at the opportunity, but it’s sad that we won’t have chance to enjoy some extra time to exchange ideas. Still, I understand you feel you can’t possibly let one of the Hunts down.’

  ‘I don’t want to let either of them down …’ I qualify, annoyed at myself for implying that I’ve been forced to go to the exhibition.

  ‘How is Alexander coping by the way? He’s a volatile character at the best of times and losing his father so young, on top of his mother’s death, must be very traumatic. You’re not suffering from the fallout, I hope? After missing the first seminar of term, I was hoping you’d be able to refocus on your exam essays and research.’

  ‘I have refocused and I’ve worked very hard to catch up. You saw my last essay? I hope it was up to standard.’

  ‘It was very well written and researched, of course, but I was rather hoping for more than “standard” from a girl with your intellect and abilities, Lauren. I think we can push you a lot harder, now all this business with the Hunts is over. In fact, I’ve decided to demand more from you from now on.’

  I swallow but he smiles serenely and continues, ‘For your own good of course, and I hope you won’t mind me being a stern taskmaster and cracking the whip.’

  Eww. The professor as Dom. My stomach curdles.

  He frowns. ‘Many of my students respond well to a little firm handling; in fact, it’s the most promising ones that ask for it.’

  ‘I think you’re quite firm enough how you are. Now, I must get out of the cold and take a shower.’

  ‘Yes, you must …’

  I give up. You couldn’t read the phone directory without Rafe turning it into an innuendo. ‘Bye and see you later. I have to work. Really hard. Right now.’

  Chapter Eight

  On Saturday morning, after a week of lectures and tutes plus the nerve-wracking short presentation I had to give to my seminar class on the Alfred Jewel in the Ashmolean, I’m more than ready to get out of Oxford. However, I have to confess I’m a little embarrassed when the Bentley arrives outside the Lodge to take me to London, especially as Immy insists on coming to wave me off in the style of the Queen. There’s also no chance of getting the Hunts’ chauffeur to speak to me like I’m a student rather than a dowager countess, so I decide to suck it up and enjoy the sights as he whisks me to South Ken. As he opens the door outside the V&A, Alexander and Emma are already waiting on the steps. Alexander picked her up from school in the Range Rover.

  ‘Hello!’

  Emma throws her arms around me like we’re old friends and whispers, ‘This is going to be brilliant!’ while Alexander’s expression is one of relief. Emma is rocking a long black Goth skirt and emerald metallic DMs, and her dark hair is piled messily but artily on top of her head. She has more colour in her cheeks than at the funeral, and somehow the quirky outfit looks sensational on her coltish figure.

  When she finally releases me, Alexander gives me a quick kiss on the lips, then stands aside. I can tell that he feels too awkward for public displays of affection, or possibly there’s been some tension between him and Emma on the way here. No, make that ‘probably’ and ‘a lot of tension’.

  ‘I’ve asked Brandon to pick you up at one. Two hours should be enough, shouldn’t it?’

  ‘We’d have been fine getting over to the restaurant by tube,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, I think we can make our own way to the Ivy,’ says Emma sarcastically. ‘Preferably by way of Camden Market.’

  ‘I’d rather not change the plans now,’ says Alexander firmly.

  Emma slips her arm through mine. ‘There’s no point arguing with him. See you later, Alex!’

  She sweeps me up the steps through the Grand Entrance to the museum. When I glance back, Alexander is already pulling into traffic.

  ‘How do you get away with it?’ I ask Emma.

  ‘Get away with what?’

  ‘Calling him Alex? I thought he hated it.’

  ‘Oh, he does. Mummy was the only person who used to call him Alex, even though Daddy hated her doing it – maybe precisely because Daddy hated it – so I started using it too, partly to tease him and partly to annoy Daddy. There’s not much either of them can do about it, is there?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘It won’t do him any harm. He needs someone to pull the poker out of his arse now and then. Alex thinks he’s been put on the earth to protect everyone: me, the estate, not to mention the rest of the world, of course; but the reality is that he’s the one who needs people like you and me. He needs protecting from people like Valentina and from himself.’

  Wow. I’m not sure I agree with all of this but it certainly shows some insight on Emma’s part, and it also puts me on my guard. She is an explosive mix of little girl and wise woman: volatile, clever, vulnerable.

/>   Even though I’ve visited the V&A recently, the scale and grandeur of the place takes my breath away. I make Emma stop so I can get a better view of the intricately decorated dome and the Bocci chandelier suspended above the reception desk. The coloured spheres are mesmerizing.

  ‘Alexander doesn’t know what he’s missing,’ says Emma, a smile on her face, when I eventually tear my eyes from the chandelier.

  ‘Oh, I think he does.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m glad he isn’t here because he’d only stand about checking his watch and looking miserable. Can we go straight to the “Club to Catwalk” thing? We can check out some of the other installations and galleries afterwards and I’ll tell you all my news.’

  ‘Sure.’ I manage a weak smile. Judging by the mischievous glint in her eye, this news is sure to involve Henry.

  The exhibition captures all our attention over the next hour and has Emma almost popping with delight over the costumes worn by iconic eighties and nineties bands and artists.

  ‘Some of them actually went to Saint Martins, you know,’ she says, stopping in front of a John Galliano creation. ‘I can’t wait to go there, even if Daddy didn’t approve.’

  ‘Are you sure he was so set against you going?’

  She snorts in derision. It’s clear Alexander still hasn’t told her that their father had resigned himself to her choice. After we’ve wrung every last drop out of the exhibition, we head to the Theatre and Performance Collection, where some of the dance costumes are beyond beautiful. It’s while we’re looking at a stunning ballet tutu designed for Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty that Emma nudges me and lowers her voice.

  ‘I’m so excited. I’m seeing Henry later. Alexander thinks he’s dropping me at a friend’s house for a party but I’m actually going to spend the night with Henry. He booked a lovely hotel nearby.’

  My stomach churns a little at this news. I have no idea why Emma has chosen me to go all confessional to; I guess it’s her way of rebelling against the strictures of her life, but I don’t want to be part of her strategy.

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this.’ I’m only half joking but she laughs.

  ‘Why not? You’re not going to run off and tell my brother, are you?’

  Her eyes challenge me and I wonder if she actually does hope I’ll tell Alexander, just to get a reaction from him. Maybe she wants me to tell him, just to get his attention.

  ‘I won’t tell him anything you don’t want me to but it does put me in a very awkward position. I know he would hate you seeing Henry. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘Oh, I know you won’t, and don’t worry, I know how to look after myself. It is nice to have someone to share my secrets with though.’

  ‘What about your friends? Surely they know you’re seeing this guy?’

  ‘Allegra does, but I can’t trust anyone else at school. They’re so immature and some of them are real bitches and would love to go out with Henry themselves. They’d probably go straight to the teachers and they’d call Alexander. I know the head has got me on some sort of “bereavement watch” since Daddy died, and I hate it.’

  ‘I guess they’re only trying to help.’

  ‘I think it’s just an excuse to keep me away from Henry. We’re hardly doing anything illegal: I’m over sixteen and it’s not as if Henry’s shagged me on school premises, apart from the cricket pavilion thing, of course.’ She glances around her and giggles. ‘Quite a memorable place for a first time, don’t you think?’

  My first reaction is that I hope they used protection. My second is to cringe when I think back to the way I flirted outrageously with Henry at the hunt ball. I can see Alexander’s furious face now and his relatives’ expressions as I slow-danced with the guy. OK, I was drunk and upset that Alexander hadn’t exactly been fighting off Valentina’s attentions, but I wish it hadn’t happened now. For one thing, Henry followed me out of the room and tried to have sex with me. If I hadn’t managed to escape into the orangery, I think things might have got pretty nasty.

  Instead, I ended up having an enormous row with Alexander and left first thing in the morning without telling him. It wasn’t only the argument and the flirting, it was the whole weekend at Falconbury – it brought it home to me how far apart Alexander and I had grown – or how different we’d always been. How different we still are.

  ‘You don’t approve of Henry, do you?’

  When I drag my eyes from the display case in front of me, Emma is treating me to a laser stare that would put Alexander’s to shame.

  ‘I’ve only met him once …’

  ‘But you don’t think I should see him because Alexander can’t stand him?’

  ‘Like I say, I don’t know him well enough to make up my mind, but why would you think you need my approval?’

  She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It’s just … I’m sick of doing things that other people don’t like. I’d love it if, for once, I did something that my family were proud of, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it? Daddy’s gone now and he’ll never know or care what I do ever again.’

  I’m not going to offer some platitude about her father looking down on her but I am going to ask Alexander to tell Emma that her father had relented about her choice of course. If he won’t, I will tell her myself, no matter how much he thinks I’m interfering.

  ‘I’m one hundred percent sure that Alexander cares what you do and is incredibly proud of you. I’m also sure he won’t like you seeing Henry, whether his reasons are fair or not, and I won’t tell him but, please, be careful. The only thing Alexander is bothered about is you getting hurt, and you can laugh at him for that if you like but it’s true. Now, we’ve got ten minutes. Shall we grab a coffee?’

  She pulls a face. ‘I’d rather have wine.’

  ‘Fine. Come on.’

  A short time later, Emma chatters away excitedly as the waiter seats us for lunch at the Ivy. Alexander was waiting outside when his chauffeur dropped us off. He seemed tense, but that’s to be expected, I guess. Against my expectations, lunch is a fairly battle-free zone and after we’ve eaten and Emma has gone to the bathroom, I ask Alexander how his meeting has gone.

  ‘It went as well as these things can do, I suppose. It’s still uncharted territory for me.’

  Wishing I hadn’t mentioned the meeting, I try for neutral territory. ‘I’m surprised they could see you on a weekend.’

  ‘As they charge by the half-hour, they seem to be eager to see me any time. They’d have come to the Oxford house, if I’d wanted them to, but Emma needed some time away from school and this seemed like a good opportunity. Has she been much of a pain this morning?’

  ‘Not a pain at all.’ Not in the way he thinks, anyway. ‘I had a good time.’

  ‘Thanks for coming with us.’ He manages a smile and takes my hand.

  ‘No biggie.’ I take the plunge. ‘She was a little upset about your father not approving of her going to Saint Martins. I guess you haven’t told her what he said about that yet?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’m not sure how to broach the subject.’

  ‘I think it would give her a bit of comfort. I think she wants your attention.’

  ‘My attention? I thought she was desperate to get away from my attention. I don’t want to interfere in her life.’

  I smile.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘Um, nothing. What the heck do I know about handling sisters or teenagers?’

  ‘Probably as much as I do, but I will speak to her about Dad if you think it would help. Not today though; it’s probably better if I mention it when I’m alone with her, and I don’t want to spoil her afternoon by talking about him when she seems happy.’ He sips his water and it occurs to me that he can’t face another emotional conversation with Emma on top of his other worries or he would have told her before. ‘I’ve sent Brandon back to Falconbury. I’m going to drop Emma off at her friend’s house on our way back to Oxford.’

  ‘OK.’ I swa
llow a tinge of unease that I know who this ‘friend’ is.

  He leans closer and whispers in my ear, ‘Then I’ll take you home and shag you senseless.’

  Beneath the shelter of the tablecloth, his hand rests on my thigh and my body tenses, not only because I’m turned on but because of Emma and Henry. Oh Jesus, I can’t keep this up.

  My pulse beats a little faster. ‘Is that a threat or a promise?’

  ‘With me, they’re the same thing.’

  He removes his hand as Emma breezes up, a sly smile on her face. ‘Tut tut. You guys do look guilty. I hope you haven’t been talking about me, or have I interrupted something? Hey, do you two want to get a room?’

  Alexander never blushes but his expression would be worth capturing in oils. ‘Actually, I was just suggesting to Lauren that you might like to pay the bill,’ he says sarcastically.

  ‘Why not? I can afford it now I have Mummy’s money.’

  ‘Not yet,’ says Alexander in a voice as chilly as the iced water he’s been drinking. ‘Don’t forget I have to approve your allowance until you’re twenty-one.’

  Emma curls her lip in contempt. ‘Has anyone ever told you you can be a complete arse sometimes, Alex?’

  ‘All the time.’

  ‘I tell you what, I’ll pay,’ I say and before either of them can object, I slap my credit card on the silver tray and hold it out to the waiter.

  While we’re waiting for the Range Rover to be brought by the parking valet, Emma whispers in my ear, ‘Now you can see why I don’t tell him anything important. He can be such an arse!’

  Since I agree with this to an extent, there’s not much I can say and now Alexander is opening the door for Emma to climb inside. There’s no way they’ll talk while I’m here. I could tell Alexander that reminding Emma that he’s in charge of her inheritance and ergo her life is not the best way to gain her confidence. I won’t, because it won’t help.

  An hour later, he pulls up on the drive of a rambling stone manor house. Emma climbs down and Alexander retrieves her backpack from the trunk. The journey has largely been silent, Alexander intent on the road, worrying no doubt about Emma and the estate and his work. I’ve kept my eyes on the scenery while wondering how I can get out of playing double agent to Alexander and Emma. I can’t see Emma’s face but from her silence, she’s still pissed at Alexander, or maybe just intent on her phone.