Midnight Girls (21 page)

Imogen gasped, her eyes full of surprise and hurt. She flushed red. At once, Allegra felt guilty and mean. But couldn’t Imogen see how rotten she was feeling? Besides, it was true that Imogen owed her: without Allegra, she wouldn’t be going to the kind of glamorous, exciting parties she seemed to enjoy so much.

Imogen still seemed stunned by her last comment so Allegra said, ‘Don’t lend it to me if you don’t want to. I don’t care.’

‘It’s all right,’ Imogen said quietly, looking down at the table. ‘You can have it if you like. I’ll need it back in time for my tute tomorrow afternoon, that’s all.’

‘OK.’ Allegra wanted to make up for her spiteful remark
so
she said, ‘There’s a big party tomorrow at that new cocktail place on Walton Street. Want to come?’

Imogen shook her head. ‘No, I can’t. I’m going out with someone.’

‘What?’ Allegra leaned forward, surprised. ‘Who?’

‘A guy from Magdalen. He’s called Sam. I met him in college, he’s friends with the bloke in the room next to mine.’

Allegra stared at her. She’d grown used to the idea that Imogen didn’t have anything to distract her from being Allegra’s wingman as they whirled through her social life. Of course Imogen had got off with boys, and been interested in people, but nothing had ever really come of it, and that was the way Allegra had expected it to continue as long as she needed her. It wasn’t that Imogen held no attraction for men: she was very pretty in her own quiet way, with those big grey eyes that showed everything she was feeling, pink cheeks and ripe figure. She might not have the aristocratic ranginess that Allegra and her other friends had, or the shimmering blonde hair that seemed to draw men like an irresistible flame, but she had qualities of her own that perhaps she herself didn’t realise. ‘So who is he?’ Allegra said at last. ‘What’s he like?’

‘He’s lovely.’ Imogen couldn’t help giving a broad smile and her eyes brightened. ‘Nothing glamorous, quite ordinary really, but very kind and funny. That’s important, isn’t it?’

‘Mmm. Of course.’ Allegra really didn’t have any idea. She chose her men on quite different criteria – mostly looks, availability, and how much they seemed to want her. There was no shortage of candidates after all. She was intelligent enough to realise that her good looks and pedigree explained why men paid her so much attention, flattered her, pampered her, and tried to give her whatever she
wanted
. It wasn’t unusual for huge bouquets to be waiting for her in the porter’s lodge, for men to arrive at her room bearing gifts, and for her pigeon hole to be stuffed with notes and invitations. If she’d wanted, she could have dined out every night, been taken to expensive restaurants and smart hotels whenever she felt like it, the bill paid with a Coutts card by whichever lucky man was her escort for the evening. And he would probably end up in her bed, as well, if she felt like it or got drunk enough.

‘I don’t think we’re properly going out yet,’ Imogen continued, ‘but I think we’re going to. He seems really keen. It’s so exciting. He’s got brown hair and hazelly eyes and he’s quite tall and he loves cricket, he’s mad about it …’

‘Have you had sex?’ demanded Allegra.

Imogen shook her head. ‘No … not yet. But if everything goes well, I guess it won’t be long. I hope so. I think Sam would be really sweet with me.’

Allegra put her sunglasses back on. ‘Can’t stand this light,’ she muttered. She was ashamed of it, but somewhere in her heart, a rope of jealousy was uncoiling. Why should Imogen get a caring, affectionate lover – a proper boyfriend? Would this Sam person take her away? ‘Can’t wait to meet him,’ she said at last, trying to resist the blanket of misery threatening to envelop her.
Why do I feel like this? I can have anyone I want
.

‘Shall we go to the library?’ she said, suddenly wanting to be somewhere where they couldn’t talk about Sam. ‘I’ve got tons to do.’

‘OK,’ Imogen said, giving her friend a quick look as though making sure that the nastiness of earlier had been forgotten. ‘And I’ll give you that Yeats essay, if you like.’

Chapter 17

‘DID YOU ENJOY
the film?’

‘Yes, it was good. I liked the ending, it made me quite teary.’

Sam took Imogen’s hand as they wandered along Walton Street and she leaned her head on his shoulder. They’d been going out for only a fortnight but somehow it seemed much longer. Life at Oxford, with its eight week terms, could be so intense: plays were auditioned, cast and put on in a matter of three weeks; fashions appeared and disappeared in half a term; people were always dashing about, with an essay or two to write a week, on top of all the other things they had to occupy their time. Some people thrived and flourished under the pressure, others buckled. Most coasted as best they could, doing the work they had to do while devoting as much time as they could to their social life and everything else that Oxford could offer. Imogen liked the sense of busy activity and time rushing by. She feared she was naturally lazy and that only by being chivvied along by the relentless timetable would she get anything done.

‘Shall we go back to yours?’ Sam said casually. He hardly ever suggested going back to his shared house on the Banbury Road because there was little privacy there, so it wasn’t unusual for them to go back to her room. But Imogen knew at once that this time he had something in mind. It
was
no surprise. They’d been getting ever closer to it. They were meeting almost every night – she’d been introduced to his circle of friends at Magdalen, and he’d been over to Christ Church – and each time they ended up getting just a little steamier. It was obvious what the next step was.

‘OK,’ she said. She’d already decided: Sam was the one she was going to sleep with. She was so fond of him that it was very close to being in love, even if she knew in her heart that this wasn’t
it
. There was cosy affection, and pleasure in his touching and kissing her, but there was no grand passion. He didn’t thrill her, excite and engage her imagination – he was lovely, but he wasn’t romantic hero material and that was that. There was only one person who made her feel that intense yearning, and that was Xander. But it was her secret, something she would share with no one else because it was so impossible. No matter how hard she tried to get close to him, he was always so far away. And, besides, he had a beautiful girlfriend and would never, in a million years, look at her.

I know I could love Xander and understand him better than anyone else in the world. But I’ve got to face it – it’s never going to happen. I’ll just have to adore him from afar, that’s all
.

Imogen worried over it sometimes, feeling guilty for nurturing her secret crush.
Is it fair on Sam to go out with him when I feel like this about someone else?

When she was with him, though, the reality of his warm body and tender affection was more appealing than her lonely, empty fantasy. He would never know the truth and perhaps, eventually, her feelings for Xander would fade away and be forgotten.

Sam squeezed her hand in response and they walked back to Christ Church, where Tom Tower stood huge and spiky against the dark night sky. Back in her room, she opened a bottle of wine that she’d put on the window-sill to
chill
and they drank it together, both suddenly a little nervous of what awaited them.

I know I want to. I’m eighteen years old and still never had sex!
The truth was that Allegra’s jibe about her being the last virgin in Oxford had struck home, and Imogen knew that she wanted to get rid of her virginity. She needed to grow up.

‘You look tired,’ Sam said. He put his empty glass on the coffee table. ‘Shall I give you a massage?’

So that was the way it was going to start. She smiled and nodded. They dimmed the lights, put some Nick Drake on the CD player and went over to the bed. Lying down together, they started to kiss. He was a good kisser, she thought, patient and tender, and she liked the taste of him. The kissing relaxed her and she felt the tension ease out of her muscles as he rubbed her back and shoulders. She wasn’t nervous now, only filled with a sense that she was about to understand one of the mysteries of existence.

‘God, Imogen, you’re lovely,’ he murmured.

She laughed and said, ‘Don’t you mean fat?’

He pulled back and looked at her, surprised. ‘Fat? What are you talking about?’

‘My big bum. My thighs. My wobbly breasts.’

He shook his head. ‘You girls. You’re your own worst enemies. Do you think I’d like you if you had no bum, or thighs, or breasts? Those are the very things that turn me on, you idiot.’ He ran his hands up her leg and over the curve of her hip, making an appreciative noise. ‘Gorgeous. I love all this. And as for these beauties …’ He touched her chest lightly, then smiled. ‘What have you got to be ashamed of? I’d be obsessed with them if they were mine.’

He kissed her again, now with added vigour, and began to move against her, so she could feel his erection bulging through his trousers. She surrendered to the sensation,
excitement
building up in the pit of her stomach and sending out waves of pleasurable feeling to her groin.

They slowly undressed each other until they were lying together in their underwear, Sam’s bare chest pressed against her. He fumbled a little with her bra and then sighed with appreciation when her breasts came free of it at last.

After a while, she pulled away to ask breathlessly, ‘Do you have a condom?’

Sam nodded. ‘You bet.’ Then he looked into her eyes. ‘Are you sure? You want to do this? I don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready.’

She nodded back. ‘I’m sure. I’m really sure.’

‘Oh, look.’ Imogen pulled a card out of her pigeon hole. ‘It’s from Romily.’

‘Who’s Romily?’ asked Sam. He was reading the
Daily Information
news-sheet while he waited for her to check her post.

‘My friend from school. She was one of our gang of three – me, Allegra and Romily.’

Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘And was Romily as much of a hell-raiser as Allegra?’

‘Mmm, no, not really. She’s very glamorous and rich and French. I think you’d like her.’ Imogen was well aware that Sam didn’t think much of Allegra. He never said anything but she knew he disapproved of her party lifestyle and all the drugs. It was no coincidence that since they’d been going out with each other, she’d seen less of her friend. Now she had the joys of coupledom – nights in together having lovely sex as often as they could – the endless round of parties was much less appealing. At a little distance, Imogen could see that the constant late nights and drinking had been exhausting and, after a while, a bit boring. Besides, exams were almost upon them and she had to concentrate on them.

Romily had written:

Oh, my Midge
,

I miss you! I’m bored silly at the moment as my friend is away and I’m all alone at home. I’m thinking of exciting things I might do to keep myself interested and interesting … I will tell you more when I see you. SOON
.

Romily xxx

MG4E

Midnight Girls forever. Imogen stared at the letters, nostalgia rushing through her. What had happened to the Midnight Girls and their vow of loyalty? They hadn’t seen Romily for ages, and she and Allegra were drifting apart. More than that, she was worried about Allegra, who had been snappy and spiky with her for weeks now, ever since she’d got together with Sam.

She can’t be jealous, can she? How could she be? She’s got strings of boyfriends
.

‘I must see her soon,’ Imogen murmured to herself.

‘Who?’ Sam had come up behind her. He nuzzled into her neck and slipped his arms round her waist.

She dropped a kiss on his cheek. ‘Both of them. My schoolfriends. We’re best friends.’

‘Bound together by shared lipsticks and promises you’ll always lend each other your clothes?’

She felt a tiny cold shiver as she remembered what did bind them together, then put it out of her mind. ‘Something like that,’ she said. ‘Now, are we going to get some lunch or what?’

The door opened and Allegra stood there. She looked Imogen up and down.

‘Who on earth are you?’ she said.

‘Very funny. Can I come in?’

‘If you want.’ Allegra stood back and let her into the room.

‘Oh my God!’ Imogen said, shocked by the sight that met her eyes. ‘You’ve let things slide a bit, haven’t you?’

Allegra looked at the mess and shrugged. ‘My scout won’t come in until I’ve tidied up but I never seem able to get round to it.’

The room smelled stale and heavy with old cigarette smoke, and overflowing ashtrays were everywhere. Butts floated in the bottom of mugs or had been stubbed out on the dirty plates that lay everywhere. The desk was piled high with books and folders and a mass of scribbled-on paper, and the floor was littered with more books, clothes, and all manner of rubbish and abandoned possessions. The curtains were closed, despite the bright day outside.

‘Let’s open a window.’ Imogen stepped over the clutter to the sill. A gust of fresh air came in, along with the sunlight. ‘That’s better.’ She turned back to Allegra, who looked terrible. She was pasty, her eyes dull and her hair lank. ‘Are you OK?’

‘’Course I am. I’m fine. Do you want a cup of tea?’ Allegra went over to her kettle and switched it on. ‘How’s lover boy? I’m surprised you managed to drag yourself out of his arms for long enough to drop by.’

Imogen sat down on a chair, brushing aside a pile of dirty clothes to make room. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’ she said, worried.

‘Well …’ Allegra shrugged. ‘You know, I don’t see as much of you as I used to.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been neglecting you a bit. I got a postcard from Romily today. Have you had one?’

‘Dunno. I’ve not checked my post for a while. What did she say?’

‘Not much. But it reminded me how long it’s been since
we’ve
seen her, and I thought … how about we go to Paris and see her in the vac when the exams are over?’

‘No,’ Allegra said sharply.

Imogen was startled. She’d thought it sounded like a lovely idea.