Midnight Girls (30 page)

Allegra straightened her shoulder and set her jaw. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘I see.’ The female proctor raised her eyebrows. ‘It will not help your case at all if you do not co-operate. You may face the severest penalty.’

‘Do whatever you like,’ she said haughtily. ‘I’m not going to tell you who it was, so you might as well not bother asking me again.’

‘I see. Thank you, Lady Allegra. That will be all.’

The wheels of Oxford justice turned slowly. Allegra went back to Foughton, unsure of what her future held. Then she was summoned back to Oxford, this time to her college and a meeting with the Rector and her tutors.

Xander insisted on coming with her. He drove her to Oxford from London in his battered MG convertible, swearing and cursing to himself all the way as they roared along the M40. ‘I should never have let you come to the bloody Gaveston!’ he shouted. ‘That’s what got you into this mess.’

Allegra ignored him, too low-spirited to bother shouting back above the noise of the engine, and stared at the golden and green fields spreading out lushly into the distance. But when they pulled up at the St Margaret Road house, she said, ‘You can’t organise my life for me, Xander. It was my decision to go to the Gav. And I even made Imogen come with me – she’s the one you should feel sorry for. I nearly fucked up her chances as well. I’m just glad she was sensible enough to revise thoroughly beforehand.’

‘You’ve got to stop leading her astray,’ Xander said softly. ‘She’s not like us. She’s a good kid with a decent future in front of her and we can’t be responsible for wrecking it.’

‘And I haven’t got a decent future?’ Allegra demanded, stung.

Xander sighed and ran his hands over the steering wheel. ‘Of course you have. You’re bright and beautiful, and you have just about every advantage it’s possible to have. But I don’t know …’ He gazed over at her, his dark blue eyes sad. ‘I worry about our family, that’s all. Sometimes I think we’re destined to be miserable, despite everything. At least, I am. I hope you manage to escape it.’

‘But you’ve got everything as well!’ Allegra said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm.

Xander smiled at her, a sad yet sweet smile. ‘I know. That’s the bloody stupid thing.’

He drove her into town and waited as she made her way nervously to the Rector’s House in her gown, clutching her mortar board.

Her brother was waiting for her in the quad as she emerged, white-faced, an hour later. He had his hands in pockets and was kicking small pebbles about the paving. When he saw her, he came hurrying over. ‘Well? What did they say?’

‘It’s no good,’ Allegra said in a voice that came out sounding strangled. ‘I’m out. They’ve sent me down.’

A look of despair passed over Xander’s face. ‘No? Fuck! I can’t believe it! Can you appeal?’

She shook her head, too numb to feel anything. ‘That’s it. It’s been made quite clear. It’s finished.’

‘This is mad. You don’t deserve this. If they’re going to send anyone down, it should be me. I’m a waste of space, I never do any work … I wish they’d take me instead and let you stay.’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ Allegra said sadly.

‘Shit.’ He wrapped her in a tight hug. ‘God, I’m so sorry.’

‘That makes two of us.’

PART 3

Chapter 26

Scotland
Summer 2003

IMOGEN RANG THE
great bell that hung next to the front door of Foughton Castle. She was nervous. Her mother had reported that Allegra had returned from her meeting with the Rector but there’d been no other indication of what had happened. It was bad enough that things had got to that stage. Imogen felt sick whenever she thought about it – it was her fault, after all. She had told Allegra what was in the Anglo-Saxon paper without being prompted. In doing so, she’d made cheats of both of them. But it had seemed the only hope at the time.

The maid who answered the door said that Lady Allegra was out on the terrace at the back of the house. Imogen made her way through the fusty darkness of the house and out through the drawing room. The terrace was bathed in summer sunshine, the loch glittering blue and silver beyond, while the sky had that peculiarly Scottish tinge of pale blue and violet. Allegra was sitting on one of the chairs, reading the paper, wearing frayed cotton shorts and a long navy jumper that was probably Xander’s. Her eyes were concealed behind a pair of Rayban sunglasses.

‘Hi,’ Imogen said as she came out on to the terrace.

Allegra looked up, and smiled. ‘Oh, hi. You’ve heard then.’

‘I heard you were back so I came straight over – I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Are you on your own? Did you pass your test?’

Imogen nodded.

‘Well done you! So you don’t need to rely on your mum bringing you over all the time.’

‘No. Freedom at last.’ She sat down in the chair next to Allegra’s. ‘So … how did it go?’

Allegra sighed and took off her sunglasses. Her usually clear eyes were bloodshot and swollen. ‘There’s been a bit of a row here, I’m afraid. I got sent down.’

Imogen gasped, horrified. ‘Oh, no! No! I can’t believe it!’ Tears of mortification sprang to her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry. Oh, God, it’s all my fault.’

‘No, it’s not. They were quite clear with me. Cheating – as they called it – was only part of the reason. I was on borrowed time anyway. My work record was abysmal. They said they’d sent people down for less. I’d only just scraped a pass in Mods, and if the Anglo-Saxon paper mark was discounted, then I’d failed very badly. It’s not your fault. You did your best for me. I’m sorry I let you down.’ Allegra put her sunglasses back on. ‘I seem to have let everybody down. Mum’s furious.’

Tears spilled out of Imogen’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed.

‘Oh, don’t. You’ll set me off again if you’re not careful.’

‘But I can’t imagine Oxford without you …’ She gulped back a sob, not wanting to break down completely.

‘You’ll probably do a lot better once I’m not there to distract you. You got a decent two: one in Mods, but we both know you can get a first if you put your mind to it, and you’ve got two years left to go for it.’

‘I don’t want to be there without you!’ Imogen choked out. She felt desperate at the idea of facing Oxford without Allegra. ‘I’ll leave as well! It’s horribly unfair. Why can’t they
give
you another chance? It’s not as though you’re the worst offender – look at all those idiots and layabouts who manage to stay on. Why you?’

‘I got caught. Everything went wrong. It’s my own fault, Midge, I know that. I partied too hard, that’s all. Everyone who does that has to be able to pull something out of the bag when the crunch comes, or risk being sent down. I lost that day after the Gaveston, and it cost me big time.’ Allegra leaned over and took her friend’s hand. ‘I appreciate the sentiment, but if you dare leave Oxford because of me, I’ll bloody kill you. Understand? Not another word about it. I’ll think of something to do with myself, don’t you worry.’

It’s strange
, thought Imogen,
but a load seems to have been lifted off Allegra’s shoulders. It ought to be the other way around – after all, she’s lost her chance of a degree and hasn’t got a clue what she wants to do. But she seems a little less troubled. That’s weird
.

But she didn’t say anything. She felt the two of them growing closer again now that they were back in Scotland together, healing the rift that had grown between them during the last two terms. They had plenty of time now to relax and talk and learn to be their old selves again. Allegra was deeply in disgrace at home, and forbidden from enjoying herself during the summer holiday: no parties, no trips to London, no travelling abroad. She had to spend the summer at Foughton and think over her sins.

‘It’s ridiculous, really,’ she said to Imogen as they lay in the garden sunbathing. ‘I’m usually the good one, in comparison to Xander. They haven’t the first clue about what he gets up to and now he’s out in St Tropez, partying at Club 55, and I’m stuck here all on my own. Mum and Dad have gone away and there’s no one here till the end of the summer when the shooting parties start.’

‘Yes. It’s very silly,’ murmured Imogen from her place on the rug. Xander’s name sent a quiver of excitement through her. She had been trying not to think yearningly of him, but it was hard. After the Gaveston, she’d longed to see and speak to him but it had been impossible: exams followed on immediately, and then it was the end of term.

The last time she had seen him was only a fleeting glimpse at the Magdalen College Commemoration Ball, held just before they’d all gone down for the long vacation. She went with Sam but had taken special care with her appearance in case she saw Xander, choosing a long gown of dark mossy green chiffon that flowed over a darker silk shell, with a high empire-line waist from which her bosom emerged, luscious and snowy. Allegra had lent her a pair of real emerald earrings that sparkled in her ears, and she’d gone to the ball looking like a ripe forest nymph and wishing, treacherously, that it was Xander instead of Sam who was taking her there.

Nevertheless, it had been a wonderful night, full of fun, enchantment and dancing, and just before dawn she saw Xander in his tail coat and the Commandoes bow tie of quartered black and red, wandering through the cloisters and smoking a cigarette, but he hadn’t seen her. At seven a.m., she and Sam had gathered with the other ball survivors on a great stretch of grass for the early-morning photograph: hundreds of them in various states of dishevelment after the long night. Sam had put his arm around her and grinned broadly at the camera, while Imogen had been unable to stop herself from pulling away from him, scanning the crowd for the face she really wanted to see, but he’d been as elusive as a dream.

Perhaps I imagined what happened in the orchard
, she thought, pressing her face into the rug and closing her eyes against the sun’s glare. But she knew it had been real –
that
extraordinary and tender moment when she’d offered herself to him to assuage his loneliness. None of her fantasies had been as amazing as the real thing.

Maybe Xander had forgotten what had happened that night in the soft summer darkness. Or, if he remembered, should she even expect him to care? She’d made no demands of him, simply given him what she could. He couldn’t have the first idea that she loved him, or that she was willing to give him anything he wanted from her. If she could only see him again, she would know, but she had no idea when he’d be back from his glamorous jaunts.

Well, I’ll just be grateful that I had that magic moment with him, a tiny slice of his life when he belonged entirely to me. I can live off that if I have to
.

It was an unusually hot summer and Foughton sparkled with almost incandescent beauty against the blue sky and the sparkling loch. Imogen spent nearly every day there, arriving mid-morning to find Allegra lazing on the terrace over a pot of coffee and toast and honey. They revelled in having the place to themselves, with only the housekeeper there to provide meals and tidy up. Just as when they were girls, they read magazines, played music and chatted endlessly, though now their conversations were a little more grown up than before. They’d take picnics of wine and strawberries and wander off to find a warm, heathery spot where they could sunbathe and read; some afternoons they went boating on the loch or, if it was a really sunny day, they’d sit in the cool of the pink marble temple, smoking and talking endlessly about everything. Imogen would often end up staying for dinner and then the night, when it was too late and she’d had too much wine to drive back.

‘We hardly ever see you,’ complained her parents. ‘Can’t you stay home occasionally?’

So she did, but she always missed Foughton. It fed her romantic soul and felt more like her home than the place where she actually lived. Everything at the castle was dear to her, and sometimes she crept away and let herself into Xander’s bedroom, so she could open his wardrobe and touch his clothes, lie on his bed and bury her nose in his pillow, trying to find some scent of him.

‘Tell me about Sam,’ Allegra said one day, as they lazed on the rug on the lawn. ‘Isn’t he coming up to see you?’

‘Yes. Tomorrow.’ Imogen shifted uncomfortably. It had been Sam’s idea to come and visit; she’d tried to put him off. She’d managed to get away at the end of term without confronting the fact that she’d been unfaithful to him, and since then had put him almost completely out of her mind, as a problem to be considered at some later date. Far from Oxford, she felt far from him as well, and had been avoiding his calls and emails. She felt as though she had absolutely no need for him at the moment and wished he hadn’t persisted in this trip up to see her. He was going to make her think about him, force her to admit to herself that she didn’t love him, and that Xander had proved to her that it was just a sham relationship. She felt cross with him, all the more because she knew he was the innocent party and his only fault was to love her.

Allegra’s curiosity was pricked by Imogen’s reticence. She propped herself up on her elbows and observed Imogen over the top of her Raybans. ‘Aren’t you looking forward to it?’

‘Um – not really. I’d much rather he stayed away, actually.’ She spoke slowly, surprised to hear herself say it out loud.

‘Oh?’ Allegra raised her eyebrows. ‘That doesn’t sound very promising. Well, you hardly ever talk about him. Not really a sign of devouring love. What’s the matter with him? He seems lovely. And he obviously thinks the world of you.
I
saw him at the Magdalen Ball – he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.’

‘He’s fine, it’s just … I don’t know.’ Imogen rolled over, feeling helpless. ‘I don’t think it’s right for the long term.’ She wished she could confide in Allegra. She was dying to talk to someone about it all, but this was one thing she couldn’t confide in her best friend.

‘He doesn’t light your fire, huh?’ Allegra grinned. ‘I understand. We’ll have to find you someone else – devilishly handsome and a tiger in the sack. We need to get your loins really burning. I’ll ask Xander. Maybe he’s bringing someone back with him.’