Harriet’s didn’t know whether to blame her spinning head on panic or excitement. Either way, the best approach to calming herself had to be an exploratory trip around the college.
She started from the Porters’ Lodge; a high, decorative stone archway which served as the main entrance to Lilith and also contained a small office and reception where the porters monitored people’s comings and goings.
Harriet stared at the map from her welcome pack and tried to match the buildings marked on the diagram to the imposing edifices all around her. Navigation had never been her strong point. She crossed her fingers that she’d got the map the right way up, then stepped out of the lodge and into what seemed to be the area known as Old Quad. It contained the library, a stern Elizabethan building that had clearly been designed with learning in mind, as well as the Master of the College’s house, a standalone building in its own tree-filled garden. Although it dated from the same era, it reminded Harriet of a country cottage.
Harriet looked around her, unsure which of the three exits from the quad to take. Even her sense of direction told her that the left hand exit led to New Quad, home of her room. The rooms were arranged in so-called ‘staircases.’ Each of the eight staircases lay behind a heavy wooden door and led to student bedrooms spread over three floors. Harriet’s room on the second floor of Staircase Six gave her a long climb but a good view. Having already thoroughly investigated that area, Harriet decided to leave it off the tour.
Instead, she chose the second exit, via a small archway that led to the New Rooms where she’d had tea earlier. High above the New Rooms stood one of the college’s oldest and most dramatic features - a medieval bell tower that held the proud title of tallest building in Oxford. Harriet paused at the base of it and looked up, wondering if students could climb the winding staircase that she saw through a narrow window. She tried the handle, but the giant wooden door that led inside didn’t move.
Harriet walked back into the main quad to investigate the third exit. This was via the gateway of another tower. It would have looked imposing anywhere else, but the tower she’d already inspected dwarfed it. Beyond that point lay the cloisters, the ancient medieval heart of the college. Dark and foreboding, they contained most of the communal areas of the college - the hall, the bar and the chapel, as well as the old library that Tom had shown her.
Harriet looped around the cloisters, trying to suppress her nerves. After a few minutes inside their oppressive walls, Harriet found a tunnel-like structure. Grateful to escape, she stepped through it into a much more cheerful part of the college - the Manor and its beautiful formal lawns. According to her guidebook, the Manor was the newest part of the college, despite having been built around 250 years previously in the grand Georgian style of a stately home. It contained the tutors’ bedrooms and teaching rooms, as well as a few huge rooms that the luckiest students had managed to secure for themselves.
Beyond the Manor Lawns, a huge metal gate emblazoned with the college crest caught Harriet’s attention. Apparently, it led to the Steele Walk, an area of woodland by the river on the outskirts of the college. Harriet decided to leave that one for another day. It was far too dark to brave the Walk alone. Instead, she walked to the other end of the Lawns, where the path looped around and led back to her own quad and staircase. Her eyes would barely stay open, so she decided to return to her room and have a rest before the inevitable excitement of dinner.
The moment Harriet opened the solid wooden door to Staircase Six, music drifted into her ears from one of the ground floor rooms. She didn’t recognise the song, but it sounded like just the sort of heavy indie music she loved. At least one person in Oxford shared her taste in music. She lifted up her hand to knock on the door and introduce herself (in her opinion, nothing built a friendship quicker than liking the same music), but the nameplate above the door froze her hand in midair.
The Honourable Tom Flyte.
Tom appeared to live on her staircase, have a title and like the same music as her. These revelations made her part of her want to knock even more, but bursting into his room would look a bit too forward after their encounter this afternoon. Hopefully, she’d bump into Tom again in the club, and they could take things from there. Still, the idea that Tom liked rocky-indie tunes made her smile. She wouldn’t have guessed that at all from the way he dressed and acted.
Harriet dragged herself away and climbed up the two floors to her own room. According to her welcome booklet, there was going to be a formal dinner in the hall, followed by a trip en masse to a club in town. She couldn’t wait for the meal, looking forward to diving deeper into the world of privilege. The prospect of a night out afterwards appealed just as much. She’d visited the clubs of her hometown whenever she got the chance, but this would be her first time clubbing away from home – no aunt to suggest she wore something more sensible or to worry if she came home late.
After much internal debate over what to wear, she settled on a bronze coloured mini-dress with little blue jewelled shapes on it. It clung lightly to her chest and billowed out to skim around her thighs. She wore opaque tights to make the look cooler and less revealing. Praying that she’d be able to dance in them all night, she added blue and silver suede heels Over it all, she put on the most important bit of the outfit – her gown. Despite the fact that the short, baggy garment was fundamentally unflattering, she loved it for what it represented.
Just then, the sound of someone playing a piano beautifully drifted across from the room next door. Harriet wondered who lived there and considered knocking on the door but didn’t want to interrupt them. After a few minutes, the music stopped. Seconds later, Harriet jumped at the sound of a knock on her door. She opened it to see a boy with messy dirty-blond curls, tight jeans and a T-shirt bearing the name and logo of an obscure band.
“Hey, looks as though we’re neighbours,” he said, radiating genuine friendliness through his thick West Country accent.
“Was that you playing the piano?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Yeah. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you. I’m a music student so I’ll have to practise a lot, but feel free to knock if you’re ever trying to sleep or concentrate and I’m getting on your nerves.”
“Don’t be silly, it sounded lovely. Really soothing.”
The boy frowned. “Oh? Soothing? I meant it to be dark and disturbing. I’m going to have to try harder.”
“Are you going to come and eat?” she asked, keen to change the subject rather than demonstrate her lack of musical knowledge. “I think it’s nearly teatime.”
“Actually, that’s the main reason I came round, to see if you’re coming down to dinner.”
Dinner. Harriet made a mental note not to call it tea in the future. They walked to the hall and he introduced himself as Josh, from Somerset. Not only did he play the piano, he also sang in the college choir.
Harriet knew her nerves made no sense but having someone accompany her to the dinner filled her with relief. The dining hall sat in the oldest section of the college; a dark, stone, four-sided cloister, covered with a beamed roof, with archways opening onto a central patch of perfect grass. Mysterious doors stood at irregular intervals along the ancient walls. Harriet could only presume they led into tutors’ rooms and meeting rooms, but wouldn’t have been overly surprised to open one and find a doorway into another world. She shivered from a mixture of the cold and the atmosphere.
At her side, Josh laughed. “It’ll be warmer and friendlier inside the hall, I promise.”
They reached the sweeping stone staircase to the hall. People were already queuing to get in. As soon as she ascended, a welcome blast of warm air from the kitchens hit her.
Harriet walked into the hall and looked around her in amazement, awed by the size of the long, high ceilinged room. Windows decorated with various crests alternated with giant portraits of kings and soldiers and famous alumni. Some, like Queen Elizabeth I, she recognised immediately; others were a puzzle. Long wooden tables filled
the hall, each of them covered in candles and silverware and seating around twenty people.
At first, Harriet just stood there staring, until she noticed a large noticeboard with a seating plan. The college had grouped students with others reading the same subject. She quickly found her name and spied Olamide sitting under a painting of a Civil War soldier with a few other history students that she vaguely recognised from that afternoon. She went to join them, reluctantly saying goodbye to Josh who had been placed at the opposite end of the hall with the other music students. She took her place, between a quiet, studious boy called Callum, and Caroline, a bubbly, blonde girl, whom she’d spoken to briefly earlier in the day but not had a proper conversation with.
“Sooo, have you settled in now?” she drawled.
Harriet couldn’t quite decide whether to regard her tone as mocking or friendly.
“Just about. I’m definitely feeling settled enough for a bit of dancing after tea. I mean dinner.”
“Excellent. Good to know you’re not one of those people who just don’t want to leave their room.”
Harriet glanced across the table at Olamide, but she was already so deeply involved in a very academic sounding conversation with the middle-aged tutor to her right that she seemed entirely unaware of the presence of any other students at the table.
Harriet debated whether to speak to a tutor herself and maybe impress them, or whether to just chat to Caroline and soak up the ambience. A waiter came round and poured some white wine. Harriet took a few sips in quick succession and picked at her freshly baked bread.
“Aren’t you having yours?” she asked Caroline.
“I don’t do wheat,” Caroline replied, raising her eyebrows as though Harriet had suggested eating a plate of mud.
Harriet pondered which of the excessive amounts of cutlery and glassware she should use first. At the start of each course, she took a surreptitious glance at Caroline and copied her. The blonde girl appeared not to be consciously thinking about the issue. Lounging back in her seat, she looked as relaxed as someone at their local pub.
Harriet’s thoughts drifted back to the Draughtman’s, the pub she’d worked at part-time during school to raise a bit of cash, and the leaving party they’d thrown her a few days previously. It all seemed a million miles away.
“You just start from the outside and work your way in,” Caroline whispered, catching Harriet’s eye as another course began.
“Well, that’s simpler than I thought,” she replied, trying not to sound too embarrassed.
Harriet loved the spiced soup starter and devoured the main course of chicken in a mushroom sauce. She barely had room for the raspberry torte, but forced it down anyway. While they ate and drank, Harriet found herself talking to Caroline as if she’d known her forever. So far, her conversations with her fellow students hadn’t moved much beyond the level of small talk, but the two of them talked about their life before they’d arrived, their thoughts about Oxford, and then music and plans and gossip.
“There’s someone we’ve got to keep an eye out for tonight,” Caroline said conspiratorially. “He’s a law student, so he’s sitting right at the other end of the hall for now, but in the club I’m going to track him down.”
“So what’s Mr Lawyer’s name?” Harriet replied.
Caroline giggled and took a few sips of her drink. “I probably shouldn’t say, actually.”
“Come on,” Harriet answered. “You can’t tell me this much and then stop.”
“Okay, fine. He’s called Ben, but for goodness sake don’t tell him I said anything. I met him this afternoon.”
“Did anything happen?” asked Harriet, eager for freshers’ week scandal.
“Sadly not. We flirted a bit, but there’s a limit to how far you can go at a tea party with your parents present. In a club though, now that’s a different story. He’s fit and he seems a real laugh.”
By now, they’d finished eating, and as Caroline stopped speaking, the Master of the College banged a hammer. Everyone rose to their feet, and Harriet quickly did the same. The Master intoned a brief prayer in Latin before leaving the room along with the other professors and fellows.
“Looks like it’s club time,” said Caroline with a grin. “Let’s get rid of these gowns. I’ll meet you by the Porters’ Lodge in ten. Olamide? Callum? Are you guys coming?”
Callum shook his head. Olamide hesitated. “Well, maybe as it’s a special occasion.”
Caroline grinned. “Guys, it’s freshers’ week and believe me, I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One) Page 5