***
The term progressed smoothly. Harriet braced herself for another dead vampire or an attack by George, but nothing happened. She even avoided any outbursts from Katie. She followed a timetable not unlike Tom’s, getting up in the late afternoon and going to bed in the early hours. The cold gloomy days made it easy.
She attended the Union more and more and spoke to some senior people about the possibility of running for the committee. In the end, she allowed Harry to sway her into joining the same side, or slate, as him. Their Presidential candidate was Edward, one of last year’s Cavalier recruits: very beautiful, very ruthless and very gay.
Catherine, the girl Harriet had met at the Cavaliers’ dinner, was running for Secretary on the other side. Harriet wished they could be allies instead, as she seemed to be that rare thing - a genuinely nice candidate. A beautiful redheaded music student called Julia led that slate.
“The slate the Cavaliers are supporting always wins,” she overheard a student say whilst drinking in the union bar. “They’ve got the money, the connections and the old members. It’s unfair really. They are going to destroy poor Julia, and she’s so lovely. She’d be by far the better president. I can’t stand Edward.”
“The really depressing thing is that it’s no different in the General Election,” his companion said. “Everyone knows that their old members call the shots – they fund the candidates, control the newspapers enough to ensure that their favoured party gets all the best write ups, and God knows what else.”
Hanging out with the slate, attending Union events and being seen at the right parties and other occasions took up most of her time, and she saw less and less of her college friends.
This wasn’t entirely one sided though.
Olamide lived in the library, as usual. Harriet sometimes wondered whether she and Callum ever had sex in there.
Josh practised his piano playing endlessly, as well as performing in a variety of choirs and orchestras.
Caroline had started acting and rehearsals for a performance of Lady Windermere’s Fan dominated her life.
Ben’s rowing meant he rose early every morning to train with the college’s First Eight and to try out for the university lightweight team. She saw more of him than the others though, as being a wannabe Cavalier he faced the same sort of pressure to attend the best parties and talk to the right people. She couldn’t imagine how little sleep he must be getting.
Before Harriet knew it, Seventh Week arrived - the penultimate week of term. The election would take place on the Thursday. That Sunday evening, Edward gathered them altogether in a hired room in his college, Balliol.
“This is it. You’ve worked hard all term, so don’t let me down now. If I hear any stories of any of you having a night in this week, I’m going to be furious. Do the bare minimum on your essays – beg your tutor to postpone the deadline to next week if you can. Be everywhere. I want you at the Law Society, the Conservative Association, LGBT drinks, your colleges’ JCR meetings, debating, Torpids, and the bloody Doctor Who society if you can find out where it meets. I want you to go on to the pubs and the clubs. I want you inviting all those ‘friends’ that you last spoke to in fresher’s week out for coffee. I want you flirting with everyone; I don’t care how hideous they are.”
He paused for effect. “And then once you’ve got them under your thumb, for heaven’s sake don’t be selfish – make sure they vote for me too.”
Oxford Blood (The Cavaliers: Book One) Page 35