She wished she could tell him about her success, certain he’d be proud. She’d have loved to hear his stories about Oxford. Her aunt and uncle were overjoyed, but as far as information was concerned, she might as well ask them about going to the moon.
She could of course have asked her mother, Adelaide, for advice, but most of the time, getting in touch with her wasn’t much easier than getting in touch with her dead father. She visited around four times a year, turning up laden with gifts and full of amusing stories. Outside of that time there was no contact at all.
Harriet twirled the pearl and amber necklace around her finger and stared at the picture again, studying the image of her mother. She looked very similar to Harriet. She was wearing a striking red silk dress, which showed off her tiny waist and long tanned bare legs, and black heels vertiginous enough to make her appear nearly as tall as her strapping husband, despite her petite build. Her green eyes were striking and her dark hair was piled on her head to show elaborate hooped earrings. A closer examination of the photo revealed the pendant that Harriet now wore every day. Despite the fact that the photo was around seventeen years old, her mother hadn’t looked much different the last time Harriet had seen her, only a few months ago.
Nowadays, Adelaide lived in London with her second husband Gus. By all accounts, he was immensely rich and powerful, very high up in a bank and with political connections. He was also extremely handsome for a man in his fifties. The two of them travelled regularly for work, living abroad for weeks or months at a time. This was the official excuse for why Harriet couldn’t live with them, although to her, it never seemed enough to fully explain it.
Aunt Kate was a friendly no nonsense woman who looked her age. She didn’t work, and her life mainly revolved around her kids – the real ones and Harriet. She was also seemingly the solitary exception to the rule that everyone who met Harriet’s extraordinarily beautiful and preternaturally confident mother immediately loved her. The two women couldn’t have been more different and Kate treated Adelaide with barely disguised loathing, an approach that Adelaide returned threefold. As for Gus, she wouldn’t even let him in the house.
“Can I come in?” Harriet’s aunt knocked on her door, interrupting her reverie.
“Of course,” Harriet replied, still full of goodwill to all men.
Aunt Kate sat down on Harriet’s bed awkwardly. “I not trying to spoil the mood or anything love, it’s just I want to ask you to be careful at Oxford. You know what happened to Stephanie when she got in with a wild crowd. She was such a sweet, sensible girl before she got ideas above her station.”
“How can you say that?” Harriet asked in a shocked voice. She was still quite defensive about her other cousin, the daughter of her mother’s twin, who having gone to Oxford herself had supposedly died from an overdose earlier that year.
“I still don’t believe she did that to herself. It’s obvious some creep spiked her and everyone closed ranks.”
“Either way, that wouldn’t have happened around here. You need to be careful around those posh boys when you go to Oxford. They may seem charming, but they’re not like nice dependable Yorkshire lads.”
Chapter Two
Harriet sat at her desk. Her new room was exactly what she’d wished for, from the fireplace decorated with carvings of the college crest to the leaded bay window. It had a view out into the quad, which was walled on three sides with tall honey-coloured stone buildings and open to parkland on the fourth side. There was an immaculate grassed square in the middle.
She’d been in Oxford for just over two hours and already felt overcome with a sense of unreality. As her uncle had driven her in, she’d thought that there couldn’t be a more magical town anywhere in England. Once in the town centre, nearly every building seemed was pre-twentieth century, built in a grand and ornate style. Some were dark, Victorian and imposing, others medieval and sweet. One looked like a castle, another like a giant gothic church. Some were hidden away behind gates, others faced directly onto the road. She was sure however that hers was the most awe-inspiring of all.
“According to this there’s tea for new students and their families in the New Rooms at five,” her aunt said, flicking through her introductory booklet. “Shall we head over there in a minute?”
“Absolutely,” Harriet replied, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of finally meeting the other students.
The New Rooms, like New College, (which had been founded in 1379), were actually rather old. The red carpets, oak panelling and portraits on the wall gave the impression of a grand Victorian drawing room. A table cups and saucers and several jugs full of tea and coffee, all of which bore the college crest. Harriet’s aunt and uncle glanced around them in awe at everything from the rooms sternly lavish decorative scheme to the attention to detail that had gone into decorating the crockery. They were becoming slightly flustered and shy.
Harriet felt guilty for even thinking it, but couldn’t help wishing that her mother had been able to accompany her instead. She wouldn’t have been overawed. She’d have been talking to everyone, telling stories of her days at the college and ensuring that Harriet didn’t have the chance to feel nervous.
Deciding to follow her example, Harriet took a deep breath and approached a nearby girl at random, who was black and rather frail looking. She was pretty but hiding it well in dowdy loose fitting clothes, glasses and no make-up.
“Hey, I’m Harriet.”
“Olamide,” the girl replied shyly. “What subject are you doing?”
When Harriet replied that she was reading History, Olamide excitedly announced that she was too. This lead neatly into a discussion of what papers they’d picked. Olamide had gone for mainly medieval options, but seemed excited by the mere thought of any period. When she wandered away to get another drink, Harriet felt pleased that she’d managed to make a friendly acquaintance, even if she did seem a little overly keen.
The next person she managed to talk to couldn’t have been more different. Katie was a tall, striking girl with an oriental look, an expensive seeming knee length skirt over opaque tights and a cashmere jumper that clung to her body. She spoke in a cut glass accent and made Harriet slightly nervous. She announced that she was doing PPE.
“Sorry, what?”
“Philosophy, Politics and Economics,” she explained, obviously amused that Harriet hadn’t heard of it before. “It’s what half the current Cabinet studied.”
“So are you planning to go into politics?” Harriet asked, but Katie was clearly no longer listening. The other girl was staring spellbound over her shoulder. Harriet turned to see what has caught her attention. It was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. She too entirely lost the thread of the conversation as she stared at him. It wasn’t just that the boy was jawdroppingly attractive in his emerald coloured polo shirt (collar up, inevitably) and tight jeans, with a sweater knotted around his neck. He certainly was, from his slim but toned build to his razor sharp cheekbones, from his jet-black lightly curling hair to his full lips, and above all, to his eyes, a deep blue that was almost purple. There was more though. Looking at him Harriet felt an odd wave of recognition and of longing. The boy turned his wonderful and terrifying eyes full on her, smiled darkly and beckoned her over. Nervously she walked across the room. Inevitably, Katie followed.
He gave Katie a cursory, if appreciative glance, but to Harriet’s surprise, his gaze lingered on her.
“Hi, I’m Harriet,” she finally managed to choke out.
“Tom. Delighted to meet you.” His voice was intensely posh, just like the boys she’d fantasised about meeting at Oxford.
“What do you read Tom?” Katie asked, flicking her hair and fluttering her eyelashes.
Harriet wished she could muster a tenth of her confidence. She was usually fine around the opposite sex, but her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
“PPE,” he replied. Harriet was relieved that Katie had already explained what that was. She’d never have
dared to ask Tom. “But I’m a second year. I thought I’d sneak in and get a first look at the freshers.” He grinned at them and both girls smiled back.
“So have you had a chance to look around the college properly yet? I could show you if you’d like.” His words were clearly for her only. Katie looked furious.
“I’d love to. It’s just my family. I shouldn’t really leave them.”
“Where are they? I’ll speak to them. We won’t be long.”
Knowing how uncomfortable her aunt was with her spending too much time alone with boys, as well as how distrustful of upper class people she could be, Harriet couldn’t see the conversation going well, but couldn’t resist letting Tom give it a try.
“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly, walking across to them. “I’ve just promised to show Harriet around the college properly. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing her for half an hour. Perhaps you could look around the college chapel whilst you wait. There’s some wonderful art works in there.”
He looked at her aunt and uncle intently. They seemed slightly dazed, but nodded their consent and headed for the chapel.
“We’ll see you back at your room in a bit then love. Have fun,” her aunt said.
“Well, that was easier than I’d have thought,” Harriet said. “Shall we walk?”
It was already dark outside and the ancient buildings and perfectly landscaped grounds were taking on an eerie air. Despite this, Harriet couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be, or anyone she’d rather be with.
“Have you seen the Old Library?” he asked. “It tends to be deserted.”
“No I haven’t, show me.”
Tom took her hand, causing her heart to beat faster than ever, and led her to a small stone staircase built into part of the college’s internal wall. He pulled out a decorated key and opened a heavy wooden door at the top.
“It’s very dark in here,” Harriet said.
“Shall I turn on the lights or do you prefer it this way?” Tom asked, still holding her hand tightly. “I rather like the dark, in this sort of situation at least.”
Harriet giggled, but insisted on some lighting. Tom let go of her whilst he flicked the switch. It lit up one bulb, high in the roof, allowing Harriet to see the room but doing little to expel its gloom. She glanced around, seeing a beamed roof, deep windows and row after row of ancient leather covered books.
After a moment, Tom moved to stand behind her and began to gently stroke her neck. His oddly forward behaviour caught Harriet off-guard, but his touch felt wonderful, and she smiled up at him, wondering whether, if he didn’t lean over and kiss her within the next few moments, she’d have the guts to take the initiative herself. She’d had no trouble initiating proceedings with the few boys from school that she’d been vaguely interested in, but Tom was different. She felt as dizzy as the time she’d done a charity sky dive and first looked out of the plane and down into the clouds.
Eventually he did kiss her, stroking her hair and drawing her to him. As their lips touched, everything felt perfect. Harriet lost any sense of being in the room. She was only aware of Tom.
His soft hands slipped under the collar of her polo necked jumper. As his fingers found her necklace, he froze. Gingerly, he eased the ruby studded engraved locket out from under her jumper and looked at it closely.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked, still breathless.
“Where did you get this?”
“From my mother, years ago. She had a screaming row with my aunt and gave it to me to calm me down. I always thought it was beautiful, and it helps remind me that she must love me really, to have given me such a lovely gift.”
“So the woman I spoke to wasn’t your mother?”
“Oh no, that’s Aunt Kate. She brought me up but she isn’t my real mum. You’d never have made her agree to let you do what you wanted so easily.”
“No, I dare say I wouldn’t have done,” Tom said, looking suddenly nervous. “All this talk about your aunt reminds me, you should be getting back to her. We’ll have all the time in the world to get to know each other properly.”
Harriet felt thrown by the turn events had taken, but nodded. Her aunt was probably panicking already.
He gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, and then ushered her towards the door.
“Aren’t you coming too?”
“I need to make a phone call. Maybe I’ll see you at the club later.”
***
Harriet found her aunt and uncle back in her room, admiring the view out into the quad. They didn’t ask where she’d been. The entire meeting with Tom had been so intense she almost wondered if she’d imagined it. She twirled the necklace thoughtfully, wondering again at Tom’s odd reaction to it.
Shortly afterwards, her aunt and uncle decided to begin the long drive back home. Harriet walked with them to the car. As she hugged them, the euphoria she had been feeling all day slipped and for a moment she felt a flash of loneliness, suddenly conscious of the fact that they would be going without her and she would have to fend for herself. And then they were driving out of the giant gates and were gone.
Whilst they’d been around, exclaiming at the lovely buildings and fussing over her, she’d been able to pretend this was just a day trip to another world. Now however, the fact that this surreal medieval complex was to be her home for the next three years was slowly sinking in.
Harriet went back to her new room, and excitement about the evening ahead began to wipe away her panic. 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 was just as appealing. Whilst she was no stranger to the clubs of her hometown, 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. And maybe, just maybe, she’d see Tom again and anything could happen.
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. This was the first opportunity she’d had to wear it, and despite the fact that the short, plain and baggy garment was fundamentally unflattering, she loved it for what it represented.
As she got herself ready, Harriet gradually became aware of the sound of a piano being played beautifully in the room next door. She wondered who was living there, and considered knocking on the door, but didn’t want to interrupt them. After a while however, the music stopped, and seconds later, there was 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.
Harriet was staring at him in amazement. If she’d met him just a few hours earlier, she was sure she’d have been flirting with the angelic looking boy, but since their meeting, the only person she’d been able to think about was Tom.
“Was that you playing the piano?” she asked.
“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 was lovely. Really soothing.”
The boy seemed crestfallen. “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 future. As they walked to the hall, he explained that he was from Somerset and that his name was Josh. As well as playing the piano, he sang in the college choir.
Harriet knew she was being silly but was glad to have avoided walking to the dinner alone. The dining hall was in the oldest bit of the college, a dark stone four sided cloisters, covered with a beamed roof but with old glassless windows opening onto a central patch of perfect grass. There were mysterious doors 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 discover that they were doorways into other worlds. 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 hall. People were already queuing to get in. As soon as they ascended, they were hit by a welcome blast of warm air from the kitchens.
As she walked into the hall, Harriet stared in amazement. It was huge – long and wide and high ceilinged. 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.
Oxford Blood Page 2