Third Time Lucky

by Croft, Pippa

  ‘I don’t give a stuff. Valentina is a malicious monster of a woman and you shouldn’t take any notice of what she says or writes.’

  ‘Look, I don’t know anything about this Imogen, or Valentina. We took it with a pinch of salt, honey, that’s why we didn’t say anything until we were face to face, but are you surprised we’re worried?’ says my father. ‘Who is this Valentina anyway, and why would she do something so mean as to send that message and sign it from a friend?’

  ‘Because she’s deranged and she’s Alexander’s ex fiancée.’

  My mother’s mouth falls open. ‘Alexander was engaged to this woman?’

  ‘Until last summer he was, and now she’s jealous and can’t let him go.’

  ‘Why did they split up? Did she end the engagement?’

  ‘No, he broke it off.’

  Their faces. Horrified comes close on my mom’s side, and Daddy, who’s seen just about everything in his time, looks pale and shocked. I can read what they’re thinking and yes, it sounds bad. Alexander dumped his fiancée, who is so traumatized and hurt she resorts to a malicious hate campaign against me – but it really isn’t like that. I have to let them know the truth.

  ‘It really isn’t like that,’ I say out loud. ‘Valentina’s barking.’

  ‘Barking?’ They frown.

  ‘Barking mad. Nuts. So nuts, it’s almost funny,’ I say with a forced smile, trying to make light of things. ‘Hey, you mustn’t take any notice of what she says. She’s an old family friend of the Hunts and she was only interested in Alexander’s wealth and title anyway. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘So is any of what this woman says true?’ Daddy’s voice is quiet and I can see he’s worried and upset. ‘Alexander was wounded in the line of duty.’

  ‘He told you that,’ I say quietly. ‘He is a soldier, Daddy. What do you expect?’

  ‘And is he in the special forces or has she made that up?’

  ‘Yes, he is. I’m not exactly sure because obviously he can’t and won’t tell me, but I think it’s some reconnaissance or support unit connected to the British SAS.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ My mother steadies herself with a hand on the table, which I’m not sure isn’t for dramatic effect.

  ‘He’s not even supposed to be on operational service while he’s doing his degree, but a colleague was injured and Alexander volunteered to take his place. Of course I don’t like him going on these missions, but it’s his life. He loves the army and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘No, I guess you can’t.’ Daddy says. ‘And I understand he’s serving his country, but this Imogen –’

  ‘It was not Immy!’

  ‘This Valentina claims that Alexander is … unstable, for want of a better word … and that he has some form of PTSD and lashes out.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, that’s not his fault!’

  They both stare at me, and I could kick myself for having confirmed the content of the email.

  ‘Lauren!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry and I can see you’re worried about me, but Valentina has made the whole thing seem far worse than it is. I’m so happy to see you and I’ve missed you more than I can say, but if you’ve come here to save me from Alexander, then you’ve wasted your time.’

  The last time I had a confrontation like this with my parents was when I told him that I was going to Oxford to do my master’s. I guess they were worried I’d get into some kind of trouble, and now they probably think they were justified.

  Daddy comes over to me and rests his hands lightly on my shoulders. He kisses my forehead and looks me straight in the eye. ‘Honey, don’t bite my head off because I love you – we both do, and we don’t want to see you get hurt again – but I have to say my piece. Can I?’

  I tense up but nod silently, almost in tears now.

  ‘We can see that Alexander is a good-looking guy, he’s wealthy and an aristocrat, but he’s also older than you …’

  ‘Daddy!’

  ‘Please, let me finish. I know you’re not shallow enough to let all that impress you but you’re alone here in this strange world. He’s also a soldier, a hero, and we can see how you might feel you owe him something and have to stay, but please, be careful … You’re very young. You have your whole life ahead of you, your career, your life back in Washington.’

  Careful? Too late for that. I push my father away. ‘How can you say this? How can you underestimate me like this? Didn’t you hear what I said about being here at Falconbury of my own accord, about making my own decisions and being independent? I love you, Daddy, and Mom, but this is exactly why I wanted to move to Oxford.’

  ‘Lauren, we don’t want to stop you enjoying yourself. Please, listen to your father.’

  ‘I have done. I really have, but you can’t protect me from everything; and I don’t want to be protected. I want to put my hand into the fire – over and over if I need to. If I get burned, then I’ve made that decision myself, and I’ll take the consequences, no matter how painful. Isn’t that what being your own person is all about? Did Grandma and Grandpa cheer when Daddy insisted on going into politics? You know they were terrified that he’d be abused and rejected, and wouldn’t be able to take the shit and the backbiting. Do you think that crazy guy would have attacked you, Daddy, if you’d been just anyone? I don’t think so and I know this: if Daddy can handle the Great American Public, I think I can cope with Alexander Hunt!’

  There’s a silence, my pulse spikes and then my mother says, ‘OK. We hear you.’

  Do they? ‘I know what I’m doing. Trust me.’

  ‘It’s not you we have to trust,’ says Daddy.

  Realizing this argument is going nowhere, I summon up all my powers of self-control and give my father a brief hug before saying firmly, ‘I’m going down to the library to have some tea. I’ll see you down there when you’re ready.’

  After tea, I give my parents a tour of the Falconbury art collection while Alexander does some work. I think he’s also been on the phone to his regiment, but I’m not going to highlight that to my parents. As we admire the paintings in the ballroom and sitting room, I wouldn’t say the atmosphere was relaxed, but peace has at least broken out temporarily.

  I think both Mom and Daddy are surprised at how far my appreciation and knowledge of art has developed since I arrived at Oxford. My mother slips her arm through mine at one point, when we stop to look at a Gainsborough portrait of one of the earlier marchionesses of Falconbury.

  ‘That’s Alexander’s father,’ I say, stopping in front of a painting of a young General Hunt in his Guards uniform.

  ‘The likeness is pretty striking,’ my father says.

  ‘You can see the resemblance, but Alexander is far better looking and not quite so austere.’ My mother turns to me. ‘What kind of man was General Hunt? Does the painting do him justice?’

  I glance up at the stern, proud profile watching over the ballroom. ‘Obviously that was painted twenty years ago, but yes, it captures his character.’

  ‘Was he as intimidating as he looks?’

  I smile. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Oh dear! Even so, Alexander and his sister must have been devastated by his loss.’

  ‘They were. Emma seemed closer to him than Alexander, although I don’t think he was ever very touchy-feely with either of them, especially after Lady Hunt was killed.’

  ‘I read about the accident in an article online. How terrible for her husband and children.’

  ‘I heard they were lucky to survive,’ my father joins in.

  Thank God they don’t know the full story, that General Hunt blamed Alexander for his wife’s death and punished him for it by withdrawing his affection …

  ‘I’m surprised Alexander and Emma haven’t ended up in therapy,’ my mother says with a sigh, still gazing up at the portrait.

  ‘They don’t do that sort of thing as much over here,’ I say, almost amused. ‘And they especially don’t do it i
n the Hunt family. Shall we move on? It will be time to get ready for dinner soon.’

  Dinner is served in the dining room. My parents aren’t overawed by the occasion, of course, but there’s a definite edge and it’s with some relief that we retreat into the less formal surroundings of the sitting room for coffee.

  Coffee cup in hand, my mother stands next to me at the open French windows, admiring the garden. The clouds have just parted and the moon casts a silvery sheen on the formal beds and lawns.

  ‘It’s a beautiful place,’ she says.

  ‘Alexander told me Lady Hunt had the garden redesigned when she married the general. She used to love working in it, and painting here too.’

  ‘What a tragedy she died so young.’ She snatches a quick glance at Alexander, who is showing my father a landscape of the park as it was in the eighteenth century.

  ‘Yes, I can’t imagine it.’

  I hear the clink of cup on saucer behind me. Daddy faces Alexander and I have goosebumps.

  ‘So, Alexander, do you want me to have some people look into this Valentina? I understand it was her, not Imogen, who sent that malicious email?’

  I have to stop this. I start to move towards my father.

  ‘Lauren!’ My mother lays her hand on my arm.

  Alexander frowns. ‘I’m sorry?’

  Daddy looks at me hard. ‘It seems that Lauren hasn’t told you. My office received an email purporting to be from a friend of Lauren’s. It was signed from Imogen but Lauren tells me it probably came from a friend of yours. Valentina?’

  Carefully, Alexander replaces his cup and saucer on the mantelpiece. ‘She hasn’t mentioned it, no. What did it say?’ His voice is dangerously quiet.

  ‘Nothing flattering, I’m afraid, if you don’t mind my frankness, and while I’m sure it’s a pile of hogwash, you can understand why we were a little concerned.’

  ‘It was bullshit,’ I say. ‘You know what she’s like.’

  ‘But she was your fiancée?’ Daddy says.

  I know my father in this mood, and he won’t back down. He and Alexander have a lot in common there.

  Alexander presses his lips together, then replies, coolly, ‘Yes, she was. Valentina and I have known each other since childhood.’

  ‘Alexander and I can fight our own battles, Daddy.’

  ‘Are you sure? The woman sounds like she has the potential to cause a lot of trouble for you, not to mention Alexander.’

  ‘We’re fine,’ I say, pulling away from my mother.

  ‘Lauren’s right,’ says Alexander. ‘If it was Valentina who sent the email, the best thing to do is ignore her.’ He smiles. ‘I can appreciate your concern, as Lauren’s parents, but Valentina thrives on attention and drama, as I found out to my cost when we were engaged. The best course of action is to pretend you haven’t even received that email – did you respond?’

  My father shakes his head. ‘No, we weren’t a hundred per cent sure it wasn’t a sick hoax, and we didn’t want to phone Lauren in case it was a crank – God knows, there are enough of those around – but since we were coming over anyway, we decided to find out your take on it.’

  ‘So you never see this Valentina now?’ my mother asks.

  ‘She came over quite recently to see how Alexander was after his accident,’ I say.

  Alexander cuts in before they can comment. ‘My mother and hers were very close and my parents were her godparents so she was naturally concerned about my welfare. Now, please, don’t concern yourself with her any more. I’m certain it would be a waste of time for your office to pursue what is a domestic matter any further.’ He smiles. ‘Would you like more coffee? What are your plans while you’re over here, apart from making sure Lauren hasn’t got into too much trouble?’

  ‘Naturally concerned about your welfare?’ I repeat Alexander’s words later when we’re sitting up in bed together.

  ‘Isn’t everyone?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m sorry that my father thought he should mention that email,’ I say, feeling guilty and embarrassed that my parents may even half believe the crap in it.

  ‘Forget it. I have.’ He undoes the ribbons of my cami top. ‘Like I said, Valentina hates being ignored, and that’s exactly what we – and your parents – should do. Now,’ he says, his voice loaded with meaning, ‘let me try to think of something that will take your mind off all this.’

  He pulls my cami down and cups my breasts in his hands. ‘You see, two hands are so much better than one.’

  He takes my right breast into his mouth greedily and circles his tongue around my areola, lapping at the nipple.

  Closing my eyes, I allow my head to drift back, and brace my palms against the mattress.

  He takes his mouth away momentarily, leaving my breast warm and tingling, and kisses me. ‘Good?’

  ‘You know it is.’

  His reply is to tackle my other breast, sucking my nipple firmly, then blowing on the wet bud. The contrast of sensations, hot and cold, wet and dry, has me squirming shamelessly.

  We lie down facing each other. One hand rests on my bare bottom while with the other he strokes every intimate inch of me until I can’t bear it any more. ‘Alexander!’ I cry out, desperate to feel him inside me. He smiles, enjoying his power, and rolls over on top of me, missionary style.

  ‘I’m not sure you should be doing this,’ I say, seeing the thinly veiled wince as he positions himself on his elbows.

  ‘I’m not sure how long I can do it for, so we’d better be quick.’ Then without any warning, he slides right into me. It feels amazing. It always feels amazing with Alexander, almost like it’s the first time every time. His weight over me, the look on his face as he pushes himself inside me, it’s still irresistible.

  ‘I never thought I’d miss missionary so much,’ he says, his voice hoarse with lust.

  ‘Me neither. Ohhh …’

  The pressure of him inside me, against my G-spot, is enough to make me clutch at him, digging my nails in as I build shockingly quickly to the inevitable. The glorious throb deep inside me tells me Alexander’s there too, and then he collapses with a groan that may be due as much to pain as pleasure.

  Soon, we’re lying side by side again, him facing me, looking like a cat that got the cream.

  ‘Better?’ he asks.

  ‘Much better,’ I say, with a smile.

  ‘Good,’ he breathes. ‘I know this evening was tough.’ He gives a wry smile. ‘I think your parents may be worried I’ve led you astray.’

  I give a wry smile too. I’m sure that I haven’t heard the last of their concerns, but I make light of them now. ‘They definitely think that. Hey, I think you’ve led me astray.’

  ‘I do hope so … but I don’t think that your descent into sexual depravity is quite what they have in mind. I think your father’s concerned about you getting out of your depth.’

  I prop myself up on one elbow and laugh off his comment. ‘I know exactly what I’m doing.’

  He pauses before he replies, watching me intently. ‘Do you? I’m glad one of us does …’

  When he kisses me, deeply, his tongue darting into my mouth, I already regret my words. As for knowing what I’m doing with Alexander, or not feeling out of my depth, nothing could be further from the truth.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Trinity Term

  ‘Well, this is, um … cosy, honey. Shall I open a window?’

  I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry at my mother’s reaction when I unlock the door to my room at Wyckham a few days later.

  She unlatches the casement and takes a gulp of air. ‘There, that’s better!’

  I decide on laughter because the smell of cleaning fluids and general stuffiness hasn’t come as such a shock to me, having moved in here twice now after the vacations. I’m also determined to avoid any more lectures about Alexander and to keep things friendly and happy between us. They haven’t said anything specific since our row, but there’s an underlying current of tension.


  My parents left Falconbury the morning after their visit and have been staying in Oxford since, using it as a base for touring. They also went to the event at the US Embassy and now I’ve arranged to meet them and show them around Wyckham before term starts officially tomorrow. Alexander has gone to Emma’s school to see how she is and take her out for lunch.

  My father is a thoughtful man and thinks before he speaks, but he seems even quieter than usual.

  He joins my mother at the window. ‘The view is quite something from here, Lauren. Are those statues above the Great Hall?’ Despite his vision problems, he can make out quite a lot.

  Encouraged by the genuine interest in his voice, I walk over and put my arms around my parents’ shoulders. I have missed them a lot since New Year; and this is a visit I should have been looking forward to, not dreading because I was worrying about what they’d think about Alexander. I resolve to make it a happy one from now on.

  ‘They’re the college founders. Mrs Wyckham was a wealthy widow and she used her inheritance when her husband died to endow this college,’ I say.

  My mother blows out a breath. ‘Wow. She looks quite a formidable woman.’

  ‘And then some, apparently. She was a strict Puritan and she founded the college to educate the sons of poor clergy. No women were allowed, except for a laundress and she was “to be of such age and condition as to be above suspicion”.’

  ‘That seems to have changed,’ my father observes, turning to me with a wry smile.

  ‘It is a little spartan …’ My mother surveys my room again. Compared to Falconbury, it is spartan, with its sloping ceilings, bare walls and ‘thrift shop’ style furniture.

  ‘It’s got all the essentials I need. There’s a washbasin in that cupboard and almost enough room for all my luggage.’

  ‘Where’s the bathroom, honey?’

  ‘There’s a loo on this landing but the showers are in the basement.’

  ‘Three floors down?’ My mother’s face is aghast and my father bursts out laughing.

  ‘I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter was happy to go down three flights of stairs to a communal bathroom.’ He shakes his head but I can see he’s very amused.