‘Hmm,’ said Rosie, and her hmm let me know we had alighted on the nub of the problem. ‘Plenty do, to hear it told.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Oh, nothing. C’mon, we’re going to be late.’
We pedalled silently through the tiny streets while my head whirled – I’m going to meet Aaron Kessler! – until we reached the small car park at the foot of Grantchester. There we dismounted as the overgrown passage ahead was too dangerous to cycle along in the dark.
Far above us, a stray rocket exploded into green and pink falling sparks. Rosie glanced up at it, vaguely distracted. She was anxious, I could tell.
‘Rosie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You’re sure there’s nothing wrong? You don’t look very happy.’
She shrugged again, a tiny, quick little movement. ‘I’m fine. I just … look, Piers and I had a bit of a row after you left at lunchtime.’
This was not that uncommon. ‘You did? What about?’
‘Nothing, really. I just didn’t like the sound of these people and Piers totally went off on one, saying how I’m “judgmental” all the time about anyone who’s the “wrong sort of pagans”, and I told him he was a desperate starfucker and we … we kind of left it there.’
Bloody hell, I thought. I considered asking her why she’d come at all, then thought better of it. I didn’t want her to change her mind.
Also, I knew why she’d come. She would never have let Piers go alone – he might meet a girl.
‘But … what don’t you like about them? How are they the wrong sort of pagans?’
‘I didn’t say that. He did,’ she snapped in annoyance. I knew that the accusation of being judgmental must have stung her. ‘I might have said that they were creepy.’
‘But—’
Rosie silenced me, raising her hand. ‘Not now. I’ll tell you later, when we can’t be overheard. Look,’ she whispered.
Through the darkened thickets I could make out a tiny orange glow, lying close to the river in the distance – a fire. And now that we’d stopped, straining to see the source of the flame, we heard voices, male and female, murmuring, and the flicker of laughter. Though the moon was bright, the smoke from other people’s bonfires had formed a deep mist that swirled above us, obscuring our vision. There was only the tiny point of the fire to draw us forward.
And voices – many more voices than I was expecting, perhaps as many as a dozen – and music too, small and tinny at this distance, doubtless being played on someone’s ghetto blaster.
Then Piers clearly said, ‘Yeah, I’ll have another, thanks,’ and there was something about his tone that sounded unlike him, almost ingratiating. The difference between this and his normal self was so marked that Rosie stole a glance backwards at me.
Then a deeper male voice I didn’t recognize said something in reply. We couldn’t hear, but it made Piers laugh, almost spasmodically.
The sound of Piers seemed to galvanize Rosie. ‘Come on, then,’ she said, her shoulders squaring, leaning low as she pushed her bike forward, ‘let’s get on with it.’
* * *
‘Well, well, what have we here?’ asked a low, amused female voice.
We had left our bikes chained to one another near the cattle grid, and stomped down the uneven grass to the river’s bank, which in the cold and smoke felt like traversing the surface of the moon. Everything smelled of burning: wood, tobacco, gunpowder, marijuana. Ahead of us there was low laughter and the crackling noise of the ghetto blaster, playing some track I recognized from one of Rosie’s mix tapes – was it The Cure? Rosie had loved The Cure back then.
We approached the outermost ring of people around the fire, which encircled a smaller gathering in the centre, the tiny lights of their cigarettes and joints animated like fireflies as they were passed around.
‘Rosie! And little Nina!’ said Piers, rising to his feet, somewhat unsteadily. He had been sitting in the centre on a large tartan blanket, next to Tam and a quartet of people I didn’t know, but one of whom I was sure would prove to be Aaron Kessler, should I dare to raise my head and look. In fact, as I scanned the various faces in the firelight, there were a lot of people here I didn’t know, and Rosie neither, judging from her expression. ‘Where’ve you two been?’
I frowned – we were actually early.
‘Nowhere much,’ said Rosie. ‘Hallo, Tam,’ she said, deliberately ignoring the girl who had spoken first in greeting, a slender brunette spilled decorously over the blanket, her lips slicked with some dark colour, her small breasts cinched in a tight bra and threatening to burst out of her jersey dress. Her long hair fell over her back and arms in a startling pre-Raphaelite effect that she was using to maximum potential, judging from the wolfish grin Piers offered her.
‘Heya, Rosie.’ Tam raised vague eyes towards her and reached down very slowly for his can of Pilsner. ‘Want a spliff?’
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ asked the strange girl on the blanket, rolling upright. Her voice was low, her mouth wide and wicked, her eyes shadowy. I envied her obvious showy confidence. She was mistress in her own world, and she knew it.
‘Oh, yeah, sorry,’ said Tam, rubbing a muddy hand on his Killing Joke T-shirt. ‘This is Rosie and Nina, from my college.’ His voice was soft, the words slurred. ‘Guys, this is Lucy. She’s here with Aaron.’
There was something in his tone that implied no further introductions were necessary.
‘Hello,’ said Lucy’s companion. There was nothing slurred about his voice.
I stole a tiny, surreptitious glance at him.
The main thing that struck me at the time was how little he looked like he belonged there. Everyone else was exactly what they were – self-conscious students smoking drugs and pretending not to feel too cold as they huddled on the damp trampled grass of the water meadow.
But Aaron, whose high-boned good looks I instantly recognized, appeared to feel utterly comfortable here, in his finely cut leather jacket and designer jeans, his long boots crossed over one another. His shoulder-length dark hair was tied behind him; his eyes narrow, his brow smooth, his lips full and sensuous in the dim, flickering light. I was drawn to the way his tight stomach disappeared under his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.
Transfixed, my eyes lingered on him, just a fraction too long.
He noticed me looking, and I instantly dropped my gaze to the ground, my face heating with embarrassment.
I didn’t raise my head as Rosie took the joint from Tam, and I waited uncomfortably for it to be passed to me, so I would have something to do, anxious as I was.
I risked another glance in his direction; his face was turned to me, studying me with an absolute lack of self-consciousness, as though showing me how it was done.
He offered me a single smile.
I looked away again.
Finally the joint was in my trembling fingers, and I sucked in hard, harder than I ever had before, eager to be diverted from my self-conscious embarrassment, to blend back into the crowd. It was too much, I realized, as the smoke rushed in, burning my throat and lungs all the way down, and I was coughing, no, whooping like a distressed seabird, and people were looking at me and laughing at my gaucheness, and I just wanted to die.
All the while Aaron just kept staring at me.
‘You all right there, Nina?’ asked Piers, patting my leg with a friendly hand.
‘She’s fine,’ said Rosie coolly, though she touched my back to take the sting out of the words. She pulled forward her backpack, set it on the toes of her boots to keep it dry. ‘Here, I’ve got some cider. Have a drink.’
‘No,’ said Aaron, from the blanket. ‘Have some of this.’ His voice was deep, slightly hoarse.
He held forward a thin crystal glass with such authority that I took it and sipped. The contents were dry and sour and fizzed against my burned throat all the way down – it was champagne.
‘Better?’ he asked with a smile.
; The relief was so sweet I almost groaned, and a bubble of self-indulgent laughter erupted from Lucy, the girl with the long dark hair. I handed the glass back down to him. ‘Thank you,’ I stammered.
‘You’re welcome. Keep it. Sit down.’
The habit of obedience had long been instilled in me, and before I knew what I was doing I lowered myself down on to a corner of the tartan blanket. The fire was a warm presence at my back.
Rosie did not join me, staying resolutely on her toes, and I could feel her absence, her disapproval of these strange new people and their laughter and commands. But it was too late to get up again now. It would just make everything worse.
I cast around, looking for Meggie, or anyone else I might know, lost as I was in this strange field with an angry Rosie, stupefied Tam and servile Piers, who had settled with puppyish abandon next to the newcomers.
Even Aaron had now turned away from me. He was watching Piers flirt with Lucy, his sharply chiselled face wearing an indulgent expression, as though he were watching toddlers play.
I was relieved when Rosie finally settled down next to me.
‘Are you all right?’ I murmured.
‘I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?’ replied Rosie crisply.
Lucy was showing Piers her necklace, which appeared to be a kind of stylized cross in a circle, studded with gems that winked in the firelight. This involved Piers leaning over Lucy’s chest and picking up the amulet with his fingers while she laughed coquettishly. I threw a sideways look at Rosie, who was drinking cider straight from the plastic bottle with stony determination.
‘Do you recognize that symbol?’ I whispered to Rosie.
‘No.’ Her expression told me that nothing could have interested her less.
‘It’s the symbol of our group,’ Aaron said, looking at me again, and there was something unhurried and utterly unabashed about it, as though he had every right to do it. Then he reached into his low-buttoned shirt, and drew out the amulet’s twin, except that his was plain, made out of some unpolished metal.
I peered politely at it, aware of my spreading blush. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘Do you?’ he sounded amused. After a long moment he unhooked it, the chain catching briefly in his hair, and handed it to me.
I let him drop it into my hand, since there seemed no alternative, and the metal was warm from his skin and smelled faintly of cinnamon. I turned it over, and on the back, only dimly visible in the firelight, there were little letters engraved on the circle. I ran my finger over them.
‘What does it say?’ I asked.
‘Oh,’ he said, smiling. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.’
‘Sorry.’ I flushed, as though I’d been slapped, and quickly handed the amulet back towards him.
He laughed and shook his head. ‘Don’t apologize. It wasn’t a criticism. Some things you can only know once you’re ready for them.’ He ignored my outstretched hand, and I let it retreat back into my lap.
‘You said you were … you mentioned your group?’
‘Yes. We’re all about fostering artistic inspiration – exploring ways to be more creative, more switched on. You know what I mean?’
I nodded, though I didn’t.
Years later, I would understand that he didn’t just pitch up in a field in Cambridge because he fancied a night out in the Fens with a bunch of students. He was on the hunt, with Lucy, his glamourous little hawk, and that night he had correctly identified prey.
‘Are you a creative person … it’s Nina, right?’
I squirmed. He’d been paying attention, had caught my name. Everyone around me had grown silent, was following my conversation with the Great Man. The night seemed full of eyes. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a writer.’
‘Yes, I can see that about you.’ He smiled. ‘There’s a light in you.’ He picked up the nearby bottle and refilled my glass, as though we were the only people there. ‘But I think you’ve never had much encouragement at home.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said, troubled, embarrassed, and yet struck by his unerring perception. ‘I think they try …’
He raised a dark eyebrow, as though he knew I was lying. Beside him, Lucy smiled and settled down, curling up next to him. I had the fleeting image of a man and a sleek dark dog – if Aaron had scowled, Lucy would snarl.
As it was, it seemed more likely that Rosie would be the one snarling. She stiffened next to me as Aaron filled my glass, and a tightening wire of irritation pulled at me – what was Rosie’s problem?
Was it that another man was paying attention to me?
‘What do you write, Nina?’ asked Lucy.
‘Oh, nothing really.’ I said quickly, growing alarmed. ‘A bit of poetry, sometimes.’
‘Recite some for us!’ demanded Lucy. ‘I am in the mood for poetry.’ She fell backwards on the blanket, her head in Aaron’s lap, her hair tangling in his hands. She flung her arms wide and closed her eyes. ‘The Full Moon demands it.’
‘Yeah, go on, Nina.’ Piers grinned at me.
The thought of repeating my few fragments of scribbling in front of this crowd filled me with a terror that bordered on nausea. ‘Oh no, no, I couldn’t possibly.’ I stammered. ‘It’s t-terrible and I can’t even remember any. Please don’t ask me.’
‘Oh, go on!’ said Lucy playfully.
‘Come on now, Lucy, you’re embarrassing her,’ said Aaron, stroking Lucy’s hair back into straight locks. ‘Nina, perhaps you can recite for us once you get to know us better.’
‘Hear hear!’ said Lucy with a full-throated laugh, and not knowing how to respond, I tipped my glass anxiously at him in return and drank again.
Rosie did not move.
At the time, I don’t know what I thought. No, wait, that’s a lie, and I’m trying not to lie to you – even when it doesn’t cast me in the best light. The truth is, I thought Rosie was jealous that this beautiful, famous man was paying me attention. She was tormented by unrequited love and it frequently made her difficult. I understood that it was a disease of the heart, not something she could master or shake off like a cold.
It didn’t occur to me at the time that Rosie’s jealousy usually only focused around Piers.
Something else was bothering her.
The conversation shifted to Tam and a friend of his called David and the band they were in – I can remember nothing about it. I realized I was still gripping Aaron’s amulet. I should offer it back, but I was too nervous to interrupt the men while they were talking.
‘We should go,’ Rosie whispered to me.
‘What?’
‘I’m freezing out here. And I think I’m getting a migraine. Drink up and come on.’
There was something so peremptory about this command that I was tempted to rebel. I didn’t want to leave – I wanted to stay here, and bask some more in Aaron’s enigmatic attention, to be told by this gorgeous, high-status man that he could see the light in me, but then I sensed that she was shivering.
I quickly tossed down the rest of the champagne, and as I did so Aaron Kessler gazed at me again, and I had the sense that he had been half-observing me throughout.
A shiver of melting pleasure went through me at the idea.
‘Thank you very much,’ I said, handing the amulet back to him. ‘But Rosie’s not well. We need to go back. It was lovely to meet you.’
Aaron regarded me with quizzical amusement, as though in my tentative manners I was a time-traveller from Victorian times. He reached out, taking the amulet but also gently seizing my hand.
I was so surprised when he raised it to his lips and kissed it that I gasped and nearly dropped the glass.
‘It was a pleasure, Nina,’ he said. ‘And I hope to see you again very soon.’
‘Nina,’ said Rosie, her voice having the character of an order.
Aaron ignored her, releasing my hand as Rosie rose to her feet, tersely answering Piers’s and Tam’s questions – yes, she was ill, it was a migraine, she had to go.
I turned over my shoulder, for a last final look at the small gathering, and saw Aaron Kessler raise his glass in a parting gesture.
I didn’t know it yet, but I was already lost.
Chapter Seven
So, Sophia, it will come as no surprise to you that after that Friday night I quietly obsessed about Aaron Kessler and our meeting on the meadows. I recalled the warmth of Aaron’s hand, the sun of his personal interest blazing on my face, and Rosie’s obvious envy, which she had not yet bothered to excuse or explain.
‘Why were you so rude to them?’ I asked Rosie once we arrived back at college.
‘I’ve heard things about them. You should stay away from them, apparently.’
‘What? Really? Why?’
‘It’s just something I heard. They’re dodgy people. Like a cult. Fakes doing it for attention, dropping hints and coming over all mysterious, and everybody runs around after that man because he’s famous.’
It was as if she’d slapped me.
‘Heard? Heard from who?’ I said, and the ratcheting hurt in my voice was obvious even to me.
Her face was flat, impassive and pale. I do believe, now, that her head was hurting. Watching the sexy Lucy flirting with Piers had doubtless shredded her fragile nerves. That night, I was merely collateral damage from her ongoing obsession with Piers.
And I resented it.
‘It sounds like rubbish to me. Like jealousy.’ My teeth were gritted. ‘Like these people have nothing better to talk about.’
‘I need to lie down, Nina. Goodnight.’
* * *
It was nearly two o’clock on Monday and I had to meet my supervisor in King’s College in five minutes. I’d said farewell to Rosie and Meggie in the refectory and was wrapping my woolly scarf around my neck. Through the gatehouse windows there was a swatch of blue sky, but I already knew it was deceptive – the wind was freezing outside, and by the time I got to King’s my cheeks and ears would be pink, as though I’d been slapped.
Everything Is Lies Page 8