Third Time Lucky

by Croft, Pippa

  ‘Way to go!’ I shout.

  Alexander glances over at me – and the next moment hits the mats with a thump.

  The attendant clicks his tongue loudly and shakes his head. ‘Shame. One second short of your mate’s time.’

  Alexander is still lying on the mat; at first I think he’s just taking a moment to catch his breath but then I see him struggle to get up. I hurry over, followed by Scott.

  ‘Hey, are you OK?’ Scott asks as Alexander turns over and grimaces.

  ‘Fine.’

  Scott stands by. He doesn’t offer to help but there’s concern in his eyes.

  ‘Is it your arm?’ I ask.

  Alexander gets to his feet and manages to clamber off the mat on to the lawn ‘Don’t fuss,’ he snaps.

  ‘I’m not fussing. I only asked what’s wrong!’

  Ignoring me, he offers his injured arm and hand to Scott. ‘Congratulations. You won.’

  I see Scott hesitate for a second before grasping his hand. ‘Thanks.’

  Alexander breaks into a grin. ‘Champagne’s on me.’

  While we walk to the champagne bar, Alexander talks to Scott, and I follow with Immy.

  ‘Is Alexander OK?’ she asks. ‘I think he landed on his bad arm.’

  I’m still pissed at Alexander’s curt response so I shrug. ‘Who knows? Who cares?’

  ‘You do.’

  We reach the bar. ‘Yes, I do, I guess, but Alexander won’t thank me for it. He’d rather die than let Scott see that he’s hurt himself.’

  ‘They’re hopeless, men, sometimes,’ she says.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  We find a table and shortly afterwords Alexander returns from the bar with a bottle of Krug, while Scott carries the glasses. All trace of the pain he felt has been erased, yet I know he was hurt.

  The chapel clock chimes midnight and we drift around the ball, checking in on the headline act, attempting a waltz to a dance band in the Great Hall. Alexander and Scott go off to try their hand on the roulette table in the ‘casino’ set up in the seminar room, while Immy and I spend an ill-advised few minutes on a bouncy castle until another girl tears her ballgown. We cool down with a mojito-flavoured Popsicle on the ‘beach’ area, and it tastes pretty good, considering it’s well past one a.m. Wanting to avoid the crowds in the Main Quad, I visit the bathrooms underneath the chaplain’s staircase.

  I walk outside and take a few breaths, trying to forget that the night will soon be over. And that I can’t put off my conversation with Alexander for ever. It’s quiet here in the far corner of the gardens; the jazz group that was here earlier in the evening has packed up and gone, although the temporary stage is still in place, and there are plastic bags of trash tied up and waiting to be collected in the morning. I think I’m the only one here.

  The scent of honeysuckle fills my nostrils. Wyckham is just perfect.

  I turn to leave, but then I hear a rustling sound from the far side of the Chapel Garden. A leg appears, and the dark tails of a coat. The hedge is in shadow but there’s enough light to see the gatecrasher as he struggles to balance on the narrow boughs of a creeper, huffing and cursing. Hey, he should have paid, I think, but the ball’s almost over anyway and I’m not going to turn him in, and besides, he’s lucky he hasn’t broken his neck. That wall is eight feet high and if he slips – ouch – I don’t want to be the one to pick up the pieces. I think I’ll tiptoe quietly away …

  He glances around, checking there’s no one watching, and I revise my opinion about him falling.

  ‘Good morning, Rupert!’

  ‘What the … Jesus! Arggh!’

  I don’t know what actually happened, if my shout caused him to fall, but there’s a ripping sound as the creeper parts company with the wall and then he’s falling backwards and thumping on to the shrubbery below.

  ‘Owww! My shitting ankle!’

  I stroll over to where he’s sprawled in the soil between a lilac bush and a tea rose. His tail coat is covered in dirt, he has a twig in his hair and there’s a scratch down one side of his face that’s oozing blood.

  ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to buy a ticket?’

  ‘I did have a fucking ticket. That tosser the Dean banned me!’

  I already know this but I act innocent. ‘Oh dear.’

  He tries to push himself out of the border and grimaces in pain. ‘I think you’ve broken my ankle.’

  ‘Me? I was nowhere near you.’

  ‘You shouted and that made me lose my balance. You did it on purpose!’ He crawls out of the bushes, groaning.

  I stand a few yards away. ‘You once said you’d like to be on your knees in front me, Rupes. Now you are, I actually rather like it.’

  He glares up at me, his face screwed up in pain and fury. ‘I suppose you’re going to run straight to security and have me thrown out?’

  ‘You know what? I really can’t be bothered. Besides, I’ve got to get back to my friends. They’ll be wondering where I am. Have fun trying to climb out of here again.’

  He tries to stand and collapses with a curse. ‘I really do think I’ve broken something. Lauren, please, I might need an ambulance.’

  ‘You don’t say? How dreadful.’ I turn to walk away.

  ‘Can you at least fetch Oscar or Immy for me? I’m going to need help getting out of here.’

  ‘Sorry, you’re on your own.’ Yes, I know I’m being a grade-A bitch but he deserves it after the misery he’s put me and Alexander – not to mention a whole load of other people – through over the past year. ‘You’ll live.’

  He stares at me, his grimace of pain suddenly replaced by a new expression. ‘That’s a very nice necklace you’re wearing tonight.’

  I touch the choker without even meaning to.

  ‘Alexander gave it to you, didn’t he?’

  He says this line with heavy irony, and I know he’s going to use the gift to score points off me. ‘It hardly takes a rocket scientist to work that out, but yes, as a matter of fact, he did. So what?’ I say.

  ‘It’s very beautiful. Tiffany, isn’t it?’

  I’m momentarily puzzled by Rupert’s knowledge of jewellery but I shrug. ‘I don’t know; he just gave it to me.’

  His piggy little eyes hold mine. ‘Then Alexander really must think a lot of you. An awful lot.’

  ‘It’s the thought that counts. I know it must have cost a lot of money but that’s not why I like it, or why he gave it to me. You really have no idea what makes me tick, or Alexander. I’m going.’

  ‘You do know it was his mother’s?’

  My stomach flutters and I know I’m not quick enough with my response to fool him. ‘So?’

  ‘He didn’t tell you that, did he?’

  ‘Of course he did.’

  He sneers. ‘Liar.’

  ‘So what if it was Lady Hunt’s?’

  ‘So you only have it on loan, just like you only have Alexander on loan. That necklace is a family heirloom. I can remember my Aunt Grace wearing it to parties; in fact, she lent it to my mother once for some do at the Palace. Alexander must have been truly taken in by you if he’s given it to you, but I’m surprised he hasn’t saved it for Emma. I thought I heard my father say all the jewellery is held in trust for her.’

  The choker suddenly feels tighter around my neck, though I know that’s purely psychological.

  ‘That’s rubbish. Alexander would never have given it to me if his mother had wanted to Emma to have it.’

  He whistles. ‘Then congratulations on finally getting your man. Even Valentina never got so much as a look at it, and I know how much she wanted to.’

  ‘Alexander is not “my man”, I’m not his woman and you are being an idiot – as usual. I’m not listening to another word.’

  Even though I’ve turned my back on him, I can picture his triumphant, mocking face and no matter how much I pretend not to care, my heart pounds at his revelation about the necklace. Instinctively, I know that what Rupert says about t
he necklace being Lady Hunt’s is true though I’m not sure what bothers me more, the fact that the choker was intended for Emma, or the possible meaning of such a ‘significant’ gift from Alexander. I still haven’t even told him I’ve got a job interview in the States.

  ‘I’ll look forward to the wedding invitation!’ Rupert calls after me. ‘Will the ceremony be a marquee at your folks’ or will you just mosey on off to Vegas?’

  I raise my middle finger behind my back and hurry across the lawn, only to be intercepted by Professor Rafe, the Dean and a couple of uniformed security guys hurrying towards me.

  ‘Is that Mr de Courcey I can see, making the flower beds look untidy?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid he fell off the wall while trying to crash the party. I think he’s hurt his ankle.’

  ‘How dreadful,’ says Rafe sarcastically and, for once, we’re of the same mind.

  I spare a glance behind, if only to witness what happens next. The Dean, Rafe and the security guys have reached Rupert. I leave them to it.

  I walk out of the garden with Rupert’s protests and groans of agony in my ears, but they’re only a momentary distraction. In my heart, I know that however malicious and pathetic Rupert is, so many of the things he said are true. He wasn’t lying about the necklace. I think I’d guessed it was special, and I half knew it was vintage, but I simply didn’t want to admit it to myself. And it isn’t right to keep it; it should go to Emma. Already it feels leaden, a burden to wear, however beautiful.

  And I’m going to have to give it back.

  With a heavy heart, I wander slowly back to the Back Quad, past couples who’ve already had enough and are meandering towards the Lodge, most of the girls with dinner jackets around their shoulders, a few barefoot, shoes dangling from their fingers. There’s a guy flat out on the lawn and a couple asleep on a bench, the girl resting her head on her partner’s shoulder while he catches flies.

  Alexander is walking towards the archway.

  ‘Have you seen Scott and Immy?’ I ask, when he reaches me.

  ‘They seem to have gone AWOL,’ he says, trailing his fingers down the back of my neck, touching the necklace. I should say something …

  ‘The night’s still young,’ he says, looking at me in that delicious way of his. So delicious I determine then and there to put off the inevitable even longer. I will not let this night be spoilt by bloody Rupert and all those thoughts he’s just put in my head.

  The clock strikes two a.m. ‘You think?’

  He settles his hands on my waist. I should say something, but I don’t. The night is still young. Soon – but not now – I’ll tell him about the job interview, I really will, and I’ll insist he takes back the necklace. Right now I need him one more time before that horrible conversation we need to have spoils everything.

  My hand is in his and we’re walking, almost running, through the cloisters, up the worn stone steps where I first met him to a door. He twists the iron handle and it opens. It’s black inside and then moonlight floods in as Alexander opens another door. He has to duck low under the archway and then we’re through into a tiny courtyard, bounded by high stone walls smothered in creeper.

  The music from the disco is faint here; the shouts and laughter seem very distant, like we’ve been tossed high into the air and everything is happening miles below. The scent of honeysuckle fills my nostrils, almost catches at my throat as Alexander kisses me. His lips taste of champagne and I guess mine do too. I push my tongue inside his mouth, desperate to taste him more deeply, grinding my hips against him, digging my fingers into his biceps through the cloth of his mess jacket. Maybe he groans a little, perhaps I’ve hurt him, but he doesn’t seem to care and I’m too selfish to stop.

  I back him against the door and pull at the button of his trousers, almost ripping them off as I wrench down the zip. His briefs come down with his trousers, his erection demanding my hand around it. He’s hot, silky, hard beneath my circling fingers.

  He nuzzles my neck, nips the soft flesh of my shoulder so that I cry out in pain and pleasure. He hikes up my dress and I bunch the skirts around my waist, anticipating the moment when he bares me. Then my knickers are down and his fingers are seeking me out.

  ‘Oh my God. Alexander!’ I cry out. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted him this much. I don’t even care if anyone can see or hear us.

  I’m already so swollen and sensitive under his fingers I can hardly bear him to touch me. Every inch of my skin seems super-sensitized and when he slides a finger inside me, I cry out again, louder this time.

  I slide my hands under his shirt and pull him against me; the muscles shift and bunch with the tension. Then suddenly his hands are on my bare bottom, scooping me up and on to him. I cling on to his shoulders, my arms scraping on the wood of the door as he pushes inside me. The oak door shivers with every thrust, my thighs scream and his shake with the effort of holding me up. His fingers dig into my hips – it almost hurts but I don’t care. Alexander is rigid beneath me, his eyes screwed shut while I scrabble for my own orgasm, almost fighting for it, frantic, desperate even though this is a moment I should want to go on for ever.

  ‘Hey …’

  I open my eyes. My arms are still locked around Alexander’s neck and he’s still holding me, his palms supporting my cheeks, looking at me with a kind of amused wonder.

  I come to. Vaguely. ‘Oh God, I hope no one heard us.’ I feel a little shamefaced, and more than a little shaky.

  ‘I don’t give a damn,’ he says softly, kissing me before gently lowering me back down to earth. ‘I need you to be like that more often,’ he says, smiling. The flagstones are cold under my feet. I hadn’t even realized I’d lost my shoes.

  I smile too, and rest my cheek against his mess jacket, the medals hard and smooth under my skin. Some kind of night bird is chirping from the dark leaves close by, or is it the start of a dawn chorus? Surely it’s too early?

  ‘OK?’ His voice resonates under my cheek.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Lauren?’ He pulls back a little so that I have to look at him and his eyes are shining with post-sex euphoria. ‘That was pretty spectacular. Did they put something in your drink?’

  I smile. ‘I know – sorry. I hope you don’t have splinters in your butt.’

  ‘Christ, don’t apologize. Want to inspect me for splinters?’

  ‘Maybe later,’ I say, wondering if there will be a later. I don’t have to fly home for a few days. There’s still time for more … more of what?

  And I have to return the necklace.

  The door rattles and we hear a raised voice on the other side, cursing.

  ‘Fuck! Quick.’

  Still leaning against the door, Alexander tries to pull up his trousers; I retrieve my discarded shoes and smooth down my dress.

  ‘Ready?’ he says, and turning, twists the iron ring and opens the door.

  A man in chef’s whites stands there, cigarettes in hand, then gives a knowing smirk. ‘Sorry, mate, just wanted a sneaky fag. Have I interrupted something?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Alexander says coolly while I try in vain to stop my cheeks glowing.

  I follow Alexander out through the door and the chef winks at me.

  ‘I need to freshen up. Meet you by the breakfast bar in the Back Quad?’

  When I get back, Immy and Scott have also made a reappearance so I tell her about Rupert’s dramatic entrance while Scott and Alexander queue for breakfast. There are plenty of people willing to wait in line for pastries and hot chocolate. I tug my wrap tighter around my shoulders; Immy has Scott’s tux jacket on, with the sleeves rolled up. I could be imagining it, but there seems to be a faint lightening of the sky in the east.

  We find a patch of grass that’s not covered with empty plastic glasses and sit down.

  ‘Scott’s jacket suits you,’ I say.

  She giggles. ‘Of course. He’s a real gentleman.’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘And that’s a good thing?’

>   She tips her head on one side, considering for a moment. ‘I’m not quite sure.’

  ‘Go on, spill. You know you want to. You two did a pretty good disappearing act earlier.’

  ‘He’s gorgeous and lovely and I’ve had the best night ever and he said I’m sexy as hell, but as I’m your friend, he’d better not go there.’

  ‘Scott said that?’

  ‘I told him I’d feel weird too, knowing you and he had a thing.’

  ‘Hey, we didn’t really have a thing. Don’t let me stop you!’

  ‘I’m not … We both agreed it would be wrong merely to use each other for sex …’

  ‘I sense a “but” here.’

  She taps her nose. ‘But …’ She lowers her voice. ‘He’s a great kisser and I’ll admit things got a little hot and steamy in my room for a while, but when it actually came to it, it was all a little like snogging someone while my mother was watching. Or George or something. Whatever, we sort of mutually agreed not to go any further.’

  ‘Hi there, ladies.’

  We both clam up as Scott and Alexander arrive, laden with pastries and a tray of coffee and chocolate. Everyone’s a little weary but determined to last the whole night and we sit and chat until the grass grows damp and the sky turns from slate to grey, and finally the first streaks of pink appear.

  ‘So, what are you doing when you go back to the States?’Alexander asks Scott.

  ‘I’ve got an offer from the Environment Department.’

  ‘You mean in Washington?’ I blurt out, surprised. ‘But I thought you were going to work for a charity in Africa?’

  ‘Well, I said I was considering my options. I can’t quite believe I’ve ended up on the Hill but when this job as a legislative assistant came up, it sounded too good to miss. I had a Skype interview last week and in fact I heard I got the offer while we’ve been here.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ says Alexander.

  I’m still reeling that Scott’s going to be back in the same city as me. ‘I never thought I’d see you on the Hill, but wow!’

  ‘Hey, it’s only a junior advisor’s post. Don’t expect me to run for president any time soon. In fact, the most I’ll be running for is the Starbucks round.’