Third Time Lucky

by Croft, Pippa

  ‘A few,’ I lie.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to sound pushy, but I’ve a friend at another college who’s been looking for a research assistant. We’d be able to carry on working in close proximity.’

  A friend? Yeah … ‘Oh … That’s very considerate of you, Professor Rafe, and I’m flattered your “friend” thought of me.’

  ‘No need to be flattered. I think you’d be an excellent person for the job and we could continue to develop our relationship while you developed your research skills.’

  ‘The thing is, I’ve already got a position lined up.’ This is more than a slight exaggeration but I don’t care.

  ‘How interesting. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?’ He looks disappointed. My heart is breaking.

  ‘I’d love to reveal all, but it’s all hush-hush at the moment. I’m meeting the director after exams.’

  ‘What a shame you can’t reveal all, but I hope he appreciates your talents.’

  ‘She.’

  ‘It’s a woman, is it?’ He smirks. ‘In the US or Europe?’

  ‘I can’t say another thing about it.’

  ‘Hmm. If it’s in our former colony, Alexander’s not going to be too pleased.’

  I plaster a glacial smile on my face, determined to reveal nothing. Damn it, why have I allowed him to provoke me? And former colony? What planet is the guy on?

  He holds up his hands. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have probed into your business.’

  Ugh, probe is not a choice of word I care to dwell on. ‘Professor Rafe, nothing’s absolutely final yet so I don’t want to tell anyone my plans, until they’re definite. You understand.’

  He taps the side of his nose. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

  ‘It’s not a secret so much …’

  ‘I won’t say a word but, please, do let me know the outcome. I’m always interested in the destinations of my students and if the job doesn’t work out, or you have second thoughts about my offer, do please tell me.’

  Never, I think, not if it was the last job on earth and I was living on mud. I’m kicking myself for having been goaded into revealing even as much as I have about my plans.

  ‘You know, Lauren, even if you do leave, I’d like us to keep in touch. You never know when our paths may cross again.’ He says this in a low voice, and every word sounds like an innuendo. He’s definitely drunk.

  ‘Professor Rafe, you must excuse me …’

  ‘What for? You haven’t done anything yet, Lauren.’

  Damn. I think I may have to actually shove him out of the way but just as I’m about to do it, I spot a familiar face over his shoulder.

  ‘Scott!’

  I don’t care that I’ve probably deafened Rafe, because Scott’s face breaks into a grin when he sees me.

  Rafe’s brow furrows – I’m not sure whether that’s because he’s half cut or annoyed – but he turns round and I take my chance and step away.

  Scott hugs me. Never have I been so glad to see his towering frame.

  ‘Professor Rafe, this is Scott Schulze. He was in the Boat Race. Scott, this is my tutor.’

  ‘Your tutor? Pleased to meet you.’ He holds out a hand and takes Rafe’s in what I think is an iron grip, judging by Rafe’s pained expression.

  ‘Yes, very. Well done on the race victory …’ Rafe mumbles, pushing his specs back up his nose. ‘I must go. I’m meeting a friend but I just wanted to have a word with Lauren. Have a nice evening.’

  ‘You too.’ I give him a little finger wave.

  He scuttles off and I heave a sigh of relief. ‘Great timing. Thanks.’

  ‘Purely a coincidence.’ As Scott kisses me, his damp hair brushes my cheek. ‘Sorry, I came straight out of the shower at the St Nick’s boathouse. Was he giving you trouble?’

  ‘Nothing I couldn’t handle, but you probably saved me from having to push him over the wall. He’s such a creep.’

  ‘You should report him.’

  ‘This close to exams? I don’t think so. I’ve only got a couple more tutes and then I’ll never have to be near him again. I really don’t know what some of the students see in him.’

  ‘I guess he must hold a dishevelled geeky appeal for some of them.’

  ‘His appeal bypassed me some time ago.’

  ‘Hey, Schulze, you loser!’ A couple of the Wyckham Boat Club guys notice who I’m talking to and I stand by while Scott takes the brunt of a few good-natured jibes. Rafe is a sleazeball but the encounter has reminded me that people are going to keep asking me what I’m doing after the end of term. I have no idea what Alexander’s up to. I hope he’s not thrown Rupert in the river.

  The Wyckham boys slap Scott on the back and with a middle-finger gesture at them, which I understand is a sign of respect, he turns back to me.

  ‘Sorry if my fellow Wyckhamites are giving you a hard time,’ I joke.

  ‘I can live with it.’

  ‘On this occasion, even I’m glad your team lost.’

  ‘I’ll forgive you. Having a good time?’

  ‘Yes, apart from getting drenched with booze and hit on by Rafe, it’s been fun.’

  ‘Is Alex around?’

  ‘Somewhere. He went to the bar a while ago. Where’s Lia? I thought she’d be here, as she’s a rower.’

  ‘She’s working on her dissertation, just like I should be,’ he grimaces.

  I can’t resist. ‘You mean she wasn’t at St Nick’s boathouse to hand out the commiseratory Pimm’s when you got back?’

  ‘No … I had to make do with some hairy guy from our Second Eight. Hey, you could have been there with the drink or would that have counted as sleeping with the enemy?’ He raises a questioning – ​and very cheeky – ​eyebrow before he adds, ‘Metaphorically speaking, of course.’

  I wag my finger at him. ‘One of these days, you are going to get me into a lot of trouble, Scott Schulze.’

  ‘And why’s that then?’ Alexander shoulders his way to us, a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of white in the other.

  ‘Scott was suggesting I – ​uh – ​switch my allegiance to St Nick’s.’

  ‘Was he now?’

  ‘Without success, so you needn’t worry,’ says Scott amiably.

  ‘I’m not worried.’ Alexander’s voice is smooth as silk. ‘Here’s your drink. I’m sorry I was so long. Emma called me and then there was quite a queue for the bar. She sounded good. Excited over some trip to Paris during the summer holidays and demanding my consent to go.’

  ‘You said yes?’

  ‘Of course! I’m not an ogre.’

  To his credit, Scott doesn’t so much as crack a smile at this but I can guess he’s itching to make a smart comment. Instead, he contents himself with saying, ‘I’d better go. I promised to have a few drinks with the crew and then I need to get an early night so I can get an even earlier morning tomorrow. It’s non-stop work for me from now on. Nice to see you again, Alex.’

  Scott leans down and kisses me, briefly, on the cheek, and the air is so thick with testosterone you could spoon it up.

  ‘See you around,’ Scott says, obviously for my benefit.

  ‘If you can spare a moment from your studies,’ says Alexander icily.

  Scott just smiles. ‘Oh, I think I could fit Lauren in.’

  ‘But I’m not sure she could do the same for you.’

  The verbal rally flies over my head. Once upon a time, I might have fantasized about having two gorgeous guys competing for my attention and I guess by some twisted logic I ought to be gratified, but it just complicates life.

  ‘Enough, you two!’ I explode with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Do I have any say in this conversation, boys?’

  Scott smiles. ‘Just our little joke, huh, Alexander?’

  ‘Perhaps Lauren isn’t finding it so funny?’Alexander shoots back.

  I smile, although like Queen Victoria, I’m not amused. ‘Hey, I was thinking that you two should get a room. Excuse me, I ne
ed the bathroom.’

  ‘If you want company, you know where I am,’ Scott says, ignoring Alexander.

  I reciprocate by ignoring them both and heading for the ladies’ room at the back of the boathouse. Jesus, I feel like some furry woodland creature being fought over by a grizzly and a cougar.

  We got back well before midnight, after going on to a bar but deciding not to bother with a club. Exams start for all of us next week and the partying has to go on hold until they’re over.

  Now Alexander’s dead to the world and the first hint of dawn is creeping into our bedroom when I get up to use the bathroom. That is, to use the bathroom as my office because I couldn’t resist hiding in there to check the email that, beeping as it arrived, woke me from sleep. As I’d guessed, it was from Donna Ross’s PA, setting up a meeting for the week after the end of term. I slide back into bed next to Alexander, trying not to wake him, and watched the dawn steal into the room.

  So. This is it. In just over twelve hours’ time, I’ll be turning over the page of my first exam essay. To remind me, my subfusc outfit hangs on the back of the closet door, like a cast-off from the Hogwarts costume department. The evening sun shines through the window of my room on to the bizarre combination of black skirt (DKNY), white fitted shirt (J Crew) and graduate gown (Shepherd and Woodward).

  The black velvet ribbon I have to wear as a tie lies on the desk top ready for morning, alongside a fresh pack of black thigh-highs. I tried the whole shebang on earlier before texting a photo to my parents and deciding the gown needed ironing. God knows why I’m bothered that it looks right. It seems crazy to be dressed in so many layers on what promises to be the hottest day of the year so far.

  Fortunately, I only have three short exams left to do on the methodology I’ve been studying over the past two terms. I already handed in my option essays and my dissertation.

  For encouragement, I look again at the good-luck cards ranged along the window ledge and tacked to my pinboard. There’s one from my parents, of course, from Alexander, Immy and lots of friends from Wyckham and my course. There’s also one from Emma, hand-drawn, and a funny card from Letty with a faux Latin message that translates as: ‘Don’t let the buggers get you down.’ They all bring a smile to my lips, for various reasons, even the postcard from Professor Rafe with its creepy Schiele nude and German message: ‘Viel Gluck from Egon!’

  I’ve set my mobile alarm to ‘repeat’ and Immy and I also made a pact to knock on each other’s doors to make sure at least one of us is awake. Alexander has already had one exam and has two more tomorrow; we’ve agreed to spend the time apart so we can get some work done without further distraction. We’ve tried studying together but it really didn’t work. So we’re meeting him in the Lodge at nine a.m. and walking to the Exam Schools together.

  Although I try to ease the tension in my neck as I have a quick last look through my notes, the knot in my stomach is back again. Poor Immy, she has eight three-hour papers and was in tears earlier, convinced she’s going to fail. Three years of work depend on the next week or so and I know she wants to do well, for her parents’ sake as much as her own.

  I wonder if I should call round with a nightcap? Or is she trying to get some rest? Should I? One drink won’t hurt, will it?

  Just as I open the closet to retrieve the bottle of Chase I salted away, I hear her knock at my door.

  Vodka in my hand, I open the door and almost drop the bottle.

  ‘Buona sera, Lauren. You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble for me.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For a second or two, I consider slamming the door in Valentina’s face but I suspect she’d love that and I also have a compulsion to know why she’s here, the same one that makes you watch car crashes on YouTube.

  ‘What do you want?’ I snap.

  She smiles. ‘What do I want? I think the question is what do you want, Lauren? However, I am happy to discuss my proposition out here if you don’t mind everyone hearing.’

  There’s only Immy up here and an English Lit student who’s invariably stoned, I could tell her, but the heaviness in the pit of my stomach makes me less keen to throw her out.

  ‘What proposition?’

  ‘Really, I think it would be better if you invited me inside. Trust me.’

  ‘You have one minute.’

  I open the door and stand back. She walks in, her heels click-clacking on the boards. She glances around the room, wrinkling her nose like the place has a bad smell – but the only nasty scent in here right now is Valentina’s toxic jealousy.

  ‘Forgive me if I don’t offer you a drink after all,’ I say, after I’ve shut the door.

  She looks at the bottle I left on the cupboard like it’s belladonna. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t drink vodka unless it’s Russian and served with caviar.’

  ‘Hey, I’m fresh out of caviar. Now what do you want? I assume you’re not here to wish me good luck with my exams.’

  ‘Actually, darling, I do wish you luck. You and Alexander. I understand he has more papers tomorrow?’

  I snort in a very undignified manner, but my show of bravado still doesn’t stop me from feeling like someone switched on a blender inside my stomach.

  ‘Yes, we both have exams first thing so would you mind getting to the point of your visit so I can throw you out of my room?’

  She looks at me pityingly and tsks. ‘That is so rude, Lauren, when I’ve flown all this way to make you a proposition.’

  ‘If it’s about Alexander, he made his feelings perfectly plain to you at Falconbury. How is the ankle by the way?’

  ‘I heal very quickly, and it is about Alexander so I would not be so eager to dismiss me.’

  ‘I dismissed you the first time I saw you.’ I make as if to move to the door. ‘Now, I think your minute is up. Shall I show you back to the Lodge or can you find your own way?’

  Her smile dies and her eyes glitter. ‘I have tried to be nice and polite but I can see that I need to be direct. That should suit you, Lauren, being an American. I have come to tell you that I have decided that it is time I shared with the world the treatment I have suffered at the hands of Alexander Hunt.’

  I’m stunned momentarily. ‘Excuse me, what exactly do you mean?’ I ask icily.

  She assumes a hangdog look. ‘I have tried to be brave and rise above it all, but people should know how damaged Alexander really is. Other women should be warned about his moods and his shameful treatment of me, the way he used me for sex …’

  ‘And you think anybody’s going to be interested in that?’ I bluff, knowing how much the British press seem to lap up any kind of scandal, especially about Oxbridge.

  She pouts. ‘Yes, I do. I can spice up the details – there’s plenty you don’t know about, darling – and I shall enjoy sharing that story in the newspapers and posting the sex video to the online gossip sites. The best thing is that Alexander will absolutely hate it, and so will your lovely parents, of course,’ she says, clearly very pleased with herself.

  The blender in my gut speeds up to max. I am so angry I’m finding it hard to respond. ‘You wouldn’t dare, and you’d do as much, if not more, damage to your own reputation. Now get out and leave the two of us in peace.’

  She studies her talons and smirks. ‘Oh, it won’t do me any harm. I’m doing it for your own good too, Lauren. Everyone – including your parents and future employers – will see how you’ve been duped by Alexander; although sometimes I wonder if it is the other way around, that you have lured him into your bed. Rupert has told me that you would do anything to be Lady Falconbury and that you even invited your parents over so they could check the place out. While Alexander was at his most vulnerable, you inveigled your way into his life again. I also know what you did to Emma …’

  ‘Right, that’s it; I’m not going to listen to any more of this. You can get out of here now or I’ll call the porters and have you thrown out. I don’t know how you got past them anyway.’ I step towards
the door. ‘Go on, out!’

  She sighs. ‘As you wish, but remember that you were the one who threw away the chance to save Alexander and your family from the embarrassment.’

  I pause and instantly regret it, as she’s clearly spotted a chink in my armour.

  ‘And remember that I came here to offer you an alternative to having the story of my life and yours all over the gossip magazines.’

  ‘Go on,’ I snap impatiently.

  She tsks again. ‘I would be a little more polite, considering I’m offering you a way out. You see, Lauren, I have a friend – yes, a real friend – who at this moment is just waiting for me to call him and say that I want my story to go live in several magazines – and I don’t mean Forbes. And of course the sex clip will probably go viral once it hits the blog sites.’

  I still somehow manage to stand my ground. ‘If you dare, I’ll sue and Alexander will sue.’

  ‘I’m sure you may do that but it will be too late.’

  ‘No decent magazine or site will run the story. They’d be bankrupted.’

  ‘Perhaps not here in the UK or America, but in Italy? In Europe? They are not so squeamish … and as you know, nothing can prevent it going viral. I don’t think Alexander would enjoy his face – and his dick – being splashed all over the newspapers and the internet. It would certainly ruin his career.’ She laughs. ‘I also don’t think your father and mother will relish your name being associated with such a sordid story either. That kind of mud sticks and can damage a reputation … Of course, all of this can stop now if you do just one little thing.’

  I know I shouldn’t be listening to any more of this but I can’t help myself. I have to know the worst. ‘How? What exactly is this one “little” thing”? I didn’t think even you would stoop to blackmail,’ I sneer, more frightened than I want to let on.

  She pouts. ‘Blackmail is a very serious accusation and I’m hurt you’d even think I would be capable of that. What I’m merely suggesting, as compensation for my hurt and distress, is that you tell Alexander – tonight – that you’re ending things. It’s the end of term soon, anyway; things would be over between you then, so it’s only a matter of “when” not “if”.’