Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. In the past I’d have done either like a shot, but I just see Ben and freeze.”
“At least he’s civil to you,” Harriet said. Her sadness over Tom’s behaviour tended to come to the fore after a few drinks.
“You’re not still thinking about Tom are you?” Caroline said crossly. “Forget him. Move on. I’ve no idea why he’s acting like he is, but you’re too good to wait for him to get his act together.”
“You don’t understand. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I really feel that he’s the one for me. I’ve always had an idea of my dream man, all through my teens, and he just fits it exactly. The first time we met, it was so perfect. I just want it to be like that again.”
Caroline laughed. “When you say he’s your soulmate, I think what you actually mean is that he’s utterly gorgeous and you’d really like to get him naked. Let’s not get too melodramatic here.”
Olamide smiled. To everyone else’s surprise, whilst Caroline and Harriet had been agonising over their respective crushes, she’d quietly and efficiently got together with Callum, the hardworking and shy history student. They cooked each other meals, went to see subtitled films and studied together. In fact, it had been an effort getting Olamide out tonight, besotted as she was.
“You know what we should totally do?” Caroline continued. “Get out and meet some guys from other colleges. Show Tom and Ben we don’t need them and their antics. There’s a big Halloween party at the Union this weekend. We should go.”
***
On Friday night, they got ready in Caroline’s room. Caroline was a devil, in red hotpants, crop top and fishnets. Harriet had dressed as a witch, wearing a diaphanous gothic style dress, accessorised with a fancy dress shop pointy hat. The dress had been in the sale, though still far too expensive to justify for fancy dress, but Caroline had made her try it on and complimented her so effusively that she’d cracked and bought it.
Caroline did Harriet’s make-up – tons of eyeliner, green eye shadow, deep red lipstick. It was dramatic enough to look as though she’d made an effort for Halloween, but still erred on the side of sexy rather than scary.
“Where’s your necklace?” Caroline asked.
“Oh, I wasn’t going to bother with it tonight. I always have it on and I wasn’t sure it worked with the outfit.”
Once they were ready, the two of them linked arms and almost skipped down the street.
The Union had been decorated especially for the event with cobwebs and pumpkins hanging from the ceiling. There were blood red cocktails and shots of something green and gooey. The event was being organised by a student on the committee called Harry. He was planning to run for election for a higher position later that term and seemed to be everywhere, talking to everyone and subtly making clear that he’d both put a lot of effort into planning the event, and paid for the drinks bill out of his own (or at least his father’s) pocket.
Harriet found him slimy and unpleasant. She nodded politely when he talked to them but willed him to go away. Keen to make sure everyone saw his face he quickly obliged.
The party finished at midnight, at which point Harry made an announcement that he’d hired out a room in a club nearby.
“Do you want to go or shall we get back?” Harriet asked Caroline.
“Oh I’ll come, but I’ve had enough of this avoidance tactic. I’m calling Ben and getting him out as well. Shall I try Josh too or do you want to carry on trying to forget about Tom by yourself?”
Harriet shrugged so Caroline called them both. Josh was busy with his music friends but they arranged to meet Ben at the club. As usual, his eyes lit up on seeing Caroline, as usual, he did nothing about it.
It was full of people who’d been to the party at the Union and were in the remains of their fancy dress. Ben, in jeans and a stripy shirt, was one of the few who looked remotely normal.
Harriet adored both Caroline and Ben, but she always felt awkward dealing with both of them together. She decided to leave them to it for a while and see if there was anyone else around that she knew. She saw a table full of people from college, but Katie was with them, and she was still always very cold towards her. As Harriet wondered whether to sit with them anyway, someone appeared behind her.
“I can’t believe that bastard Harry paid for all the champagne at the reception,” he sighed. “Trying to make everyone think he’s the richest person here.”
Harriet turned to see George. He was dressed as a vampire, in a Victorian suit and waistcoat and a flowing black and red cape. The outfit looked astonishing on him, as she imagined everything probably did. He smiled, showing sharp fangs that were much more realistic than the plastic fancy dress shop versions she’d seen several people wearing. Presumably, like Katie, he got his outfits from theatre suppliers.
“You’re too blond to pull that look off you know,” she said, trying hard not to seem overawed by him.
“Really?” He strode to the bar, gesturing for Harriet to follow. “Ten bottles of Taittinger please. Give me one bottle and two glasses and share the rest out between everyone here.”
Turning to a startled Harriet, he pointed to the one empty table, away in a slightly quieter spot of the bar. She followed him, aware of several eyes on her, and nervously sat down. Without saying another word, he poured her a glass.
“I told you last time we met that I don’t take drinks from guys like you,” Harriet said half-heartedly, but it seemed churlish to turn down this sort of gesture. Shrugging, she lifted her glass and took a sip. “Thank you,” she managed.
From that moment on, she didn’t feel entirely in control of herself. Glass of champagne followed glass of champagne, and the conversation sped along. George was telling her about his family, who apparently had involvement at the highest level in politics, finance and journalism, amongst other things. It was bragging, she supposed, and she’d usually have found it distasteful, but lulled by the alcohol and by George’s charm, she felt impressed instead. She was also proud that he’d selected her to be the one and only person to join him at his table.
When the bottle was almost finished, he apologised and said that he had to make a call, but would be back in a moment. Whilst he was gone, Harriet began to calm down. Thinking back over some of the things he’d said, she was struck, in a way she hadn’t been whilst he was saying them, just how arrogant and indeed unpleasant George could be. Despite this, she couldn’t entirely shake off an irrational flood of excitement and a crazy hope that he’d try to take things further.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a very drunken Robert, a PPE-ist she vaguely knew, who sat down and shouted, “wey, Harriet, good work on pulling the millionaire.” He dashed off to dance, giving her no chance to answer.
Before she’d had the chance to recover from that intrusion, Katie wandered over, clutching her glass of champagne. She was also in a witch’s outfit, albeit one that looked as though it had been liberated from the set of Wicked.
“This is probably none of my business, but seriously, I’ve heard some dodgy stuff about George. Okay, so he’s hot and he’s rich, but watch out.”
“What are you trying to say? That he’s a bit of a player? I think I already worked that one out. I’m hardly thinking he’s potential marriage material.”
Katie paused, before answering in a hesitant tone. “Well, that, obviously. A different girl every night sort of player, but there are plenty of people I could say the same about around here. If it was just that I’d leave you to get you heartbroken.”
“Well, what else then?” Katie was a bitch, but her words were feeding the niggling doubt about George that she’d felt since the first time she’d seen him.
“Well, it’s friends of friends type stuff. But I keep hearing the same rumours. Girls who swear they weren’t that drunk but have no memories of the night before other than leaving a bar with George. Girls feeling completely out of it for days. Cuts and bruises way be
yond what mere over enthusiastic sex would cause. So, I’m thinking date rape drugs at the very least. Then God knows what he does to them.” Katie seemed pleased at Harriet’s horrified expression.
“So why has no one confronted him? Or gone to the police?”
“Well, in a way that’s the worst bit. From what I hear, whatever state they’re in, they all stay besotted with him. There’ll be no contact for weeks. They’ll see him in the Bridge or somewhere and he’ll blank them. Out of the blue, he’ll text and they’ll come running. Then the same thing happens again. The memory loss. The cuts and bruises, a few days in bed. He basically has this army of fuck buddies he can do whatever he wants with.”
Katie paused for dramatic effect. “And of course, he’s in the inner circle of the Cavaliers and that’s not something you want to be getting messed up with.”
Harriet was trying desperately to think of a way of asking about the Cavaliers, without sounding clueless (were the posh girls given a guide to this sort of thing?), when she noticed George coming back into the club.
Katie gave her an urgent look. “We’re not exactly best mates, but I don’t think you should be getting yourself into all that. Make your excuses and come over to our table.”
Before Harriet could move or reply, George was at the table. She wasn’t sure how he had got there so fast. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Katie could be talking nonsense, but whilst the stories were probably exaggerated, something told her they had at least a ring of truth to them.
“Sorry about that my dear. Long, complicated phone call from my uncle. He’s always doing that.” He gave Katie a cold look, maintaining eye contact for longer than was remotely polite or normal.
Katie glanced at Harriet in confusion. “Well, I’m off to dance. Have a fun night,” she muttered.
“Wait...” Harriet began, but George turned to look at her and she instantly felt calmer. He looked arrogant, yes, but not at all capable of the sorts of sordid behaviour that Katie had suggested. She allowed him to refill her glass and the conversation resumed. She told him about how she was considering standing for election at the Union, and he seemed interested. He told her about a recent holiday to Eastern Europe. Within minutes, she could barely remember what Katie had been talking about.
“It’s getting late,” George said. “Your friends don’t look ready to move. Perhaps I should take you back to college.”
Harriet wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but she couldn’t resist spending some time along with George.
She quickly explained the situation to Caroline and Ben who were sitting alone, utterly entranced by one another but making no moves to take it further. Caroline gave her a quick thumbs up as she set off. She was intensely aware of George’s presence beside her, and was wondering what his next move would be.
It was dark by this point, and the pale stones of the city’s ancient buildings glowed in the moonlight. Harriet stood for a moment enjoying the magical atmosphere that Oxford could cast over the most ordinary evening, and especially over a night in which love was potentially in the air. It was however intensely cold and she was keen to get inside. As though he’d read her mind, George turned to her, slipped off his jacket and helped her into it.
“Won’t you be cold?” she asked, the gesture having left him wearing only his old fashioned shirt.
He smiled. “I don’t tend to feel it.”
They began to walk towards her college. Harriet’s heart was racing at the thought of what might happen when they arrived, but she tried to focus on the night air, the city’s beauty, and the company.
The fifteen minute walk seemed to Harriet to have only taken about five. The Porter’s Lodge was closed, so they followed the stone walls around to the late gate, a smaller entrance which students had their own keys for. It was still a heavy wooden door, so George helped her push it open. He froze at the entrance.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he said.
“Well I thought that went without saying,” Harriet replied, “but I’m touched that you’ve decided to be so polite.”
George made the usual comments about how lovely the college was, whilst Harriet desperately tried to reach a decision on whether she was going to ask him up to her room. The atmosphere had been so charged all night that it seemed quite clear what would happen if she did. Was that what she wanted? She wasn’t sure.
Suddenly, she had an idea. “There’s all this woodland that goes around the outside of the college, by the river. It’s called the Steele Walk. How about we have a little stroll around that? It’s really cool at this time of night.”
George looked intrigued by the idea, so Harriet continued.
“Wait there and I’ll quickly go to my room. I can get a picnic blanket and some wine and crisps and then we can wander. There’s a bridge over the river that’s an amazing picnic spot day or night.”
“Midnight picnics. I can see you’re a girl after my own heart. I’ll come with you to your room first though.”
Harriet laughed and shook her head. “Aw, very persuasive. But honestly, I’ll be five minutes. Go and sit on that bench and wait.”
George had a puzzled expression. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” she replied, enjoying the gentle power struggle. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
With that, she disappeared into the staircase. As she entered, she heard the inevitable sound of a party coming from Tom’s room, and despite her feeling of triumph at how things were going with George, she felt annoyed again at the way he’d blanked her all term. As she was musing on this subject, Tom himself appeared in the hallway.
“Hey you, having a party?” she asked, too happy about the evening’s events to stick to her usual plan of ignoring him. Even amidst her excitement at meeting George, she couldn’t help noticing his perfection, from his tight jeans to his perfect sculpted face, all cheekbones and full lips.
“Yes. I ought to be getting back to it,” he replied, and immediately disappeared into his room. She wondered again just what she had done to upset him. His behaviour seemed to go beyond indifference to outright dislike and avoidance of her.
“I ought to have taken a chance on inviting George in here, just to show him,” she muttered under her breath.
Still fuming she climbed the dramatic staircase to her room, marvelling once more at the scale and the grandeur. It only took a few seconds to grab her blue woollen picnic blanket from the top of her wardrobe and a bottle of chardonnay from her tiny fridge. Once she’d sorted everything, she raced back down the stairs.
She was slightly concerned that George would have disappeared, unpredictable as he seemed to be, but mercifully, he was still sitting where she had left him. He was frowning slightly, as though thinking something over that he couldn’t quite understand.
“Are you okay?” Harriet asked, concerned.
Noticing her presence, he snapped out of whatever strange mood he had been in, took the blanket and wine from her, and offered her his free hand. With a rush of excitement that she hadn’t misread his signals, she took his hand and he gripped hers firmly.
The Steele Walk was quite an eerie place even in the daylight, but Harriet loved it. To get onto it, she had to use her key to open a huge cast iron gate emblazoned with the college crest. Despite being only minutes away from the college and the town centre, the Steele Walk had an almost magical way of making people feel that they were in the middle of nowhere, lost in some rural idyll. The lights of the college disappeared from view and the only illumination came from the moon and its reflection on the river.
It grew steadily colder. Harriet was relieved that George had given her his jacket, but concerned that he must be freezing. He certainly didn’t show it, cracking jokes and pulling her closer into him with each step. There was a narrow irregular path, with huge trees on either side. The Steele Walk was circular, broadly following the river, which at points was only a few steps away. It was necessary to walk very carefully, which, whi
lst slightly nerve-racking, had the bonus of requiring them to stand close and to hold onto each other.
Eventually, they reached Harriet’s favourite place. The path opened out slightly, to reveal a small, rickety looking bridge over the water. She dashed onto it and beckoned to George to follow.
He shook his head. “Come down. Let’s spread out the blanket here and have a drink and a rest. You can’t do that on a bridge.”
Harriet wanted to stay on the bridge. For the last few minutes, she’d been creating a grand fantasy in which they kissed, high above the river. She could hardly think of a more romantic scenario. She considered arguing the point, but felt her legs moving almost of their own volition, and she returned to stand beside George on the path.
That’s better,” he said with evident relief. He took a few steps off the path into the trees and beckoned Harriet to follow.
“George, let’s not go so far. It’s really dark away from the path and we don’t know what’s in those trees.”
George laughed. “It’s perfectly safe. We’re basically five minutes away from your bedroom. And I have excellent night vision.”
And I’ve just remembered that I’ve only met you once before in my life, the only report I’ve had on you was highly negative, and now we’re alone in a dark wood. Harriet had a sudden sense of panic. The college might only be a few minutes away, but that was too far for anyone to hear her scream.
Calm down. He’s just a student. At worst, he might be a little sleazy; he’s hardly going to be a rapist or a murderer. Whatever Katie was trying to imply.
“Come and sit down.”
Harriet had the same odd feeling she’d had when coming off the bridge, of her mind and body being entirely at odds with each other. She sat down on the spread out blanket, right by George. He put his right arm around her and she instantly felt calmer, as well as feeling ridiculous for having panicked so much.
“This is a beautiful spot,” George said dreamily. “I’m tempted to say something cheesy like ‘nearly as beautiful as you’”
Oxford Blood Page 5
