Third Time Lucky (14 page)

He pauses before he replies, watching me intently. ‘Do you? I’m glad one of us does …’

When he kisses me, deeply, his tongue darting into my mouth, I already regret my words. As for knowing what I’m doing with Alexander, or not feeling out of my depth, nothing could be further from the truth.

‘Well, this is, um …
cosy
, honey. Shall I open a window?’

I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry at my mother’s reaction when I unlock the door to my room at Wyckham a few days later.

She unlatches the casement and takes a gulp of air. ‘There, that’s better!’

I decide on laughter because the smell of cleaning fluids and general stuffiness hasn’t come as such a shock to me, having moved in here twice now after the vacations. I’m also determined to avoid any more lectures about Alexander and to keep things friendly and happy between us. They haven’t said anything specific since our row, but there’s an underlying current of tension.

My parents left Falconbury the morning after their visit and have been staying in Oxford since, using it as a base for touring. They also went to the event at the US Embassy and now I’ve arranged to meet them and show them around Wyckham before term starts officially tomorrow. Alexander has gone to Emma’s school to see how she is and take her out for lunch.

My
father is a thoughtful man and thinks before he speaks, but he seems even quieter than usual.

He joins my mother at the window. ‘The view is quite something from here, Lauren. Are those statues above the Great Hall?’ Despite his vision problems, he can make out quite a lot.

Encouraged by the genuine interest in his voice, I walk over and put my arms around my parents’ shoulders. I
have
missed them a lot since New Year; and this is a visit I should have been looking forward to, not dreading because I was worrying about what they’d think about Alexander. I resolve to make it a happy one from now on.

‘They’re the college founders. Mrs Wyckham was a wealthy widow and she used her inheritance when her husband died to endow this college,’ I say.

My mother blows out a breath. ‘Wow. She looks quite a formidable woman.’

‘And then some, apparently. She was a strict Puritan and she founded the college to educate the sons of poor clergy. No women were allowed, except for a laundress and she was “to be of such age and condition as to be above suspicion”.’

‘That seems to have changed,’ my father observes, turning to me with a wry smile.

‘It is a little spartan …’ My mother surveys my room again. Compared to Falconbury, it
is
spartan, with its sloping ceilings, bare walls and ‘thrift shop’ style furniture.

‘It’s
got all the essentials I need. There’s a washbasin in that cupboard and almost enough room for all my luggage.’

‘Where’s the bathroom, honey?’

‘There’s a loo on this landing but the showers are in the basement.’

‘Three floors down?’ My mother’s face is aghast and my father bursts out laughing.

‘I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter was happy to go down three flights of stairs to a communal bathroom.’ He shakes his head but I can see he’s very amused.

‘I didn’t say I was happy about it, but I cope, same as all the other students.’ I smile, and also keep to myself the fact that for many nights of the past two terms I’ve shared Alexander’s room at his house in Oxford. ‘That’s about all there is to see in here. Most of my stuff is in the trunk room along the landing. Shall we take a look around the rest of the college?’

Outside, my parents seem impressed by the rest of college and it does look stunning this morning, with the sun shining down on the dark honey stone from a sky so blue you’d think it had been Photoshopped. The Hall is always a winner with visitors, and even I feel the impact of its formal splendour today. Even though my parents have been to embassies and palaces, Wyckham’s combination of tranquillity and grandeur can’t fail to make an impression.

‘I can see why you love it here.’ My mother puts her
arm around my back as we wander through the cloisters. I can’t help but remember that this was the place I first met Alexander, or rather where I almost fell on top of him.

‘Where’s Alexander’s room?’ my father asks.

‘He has a house about half a mile away on the way to the Parks.’

‘A student house?’

‘No, it’s one of the properties owned by his family.’ They make no comment but the brief silence says everything. ‘Would you like to see the gardens?’

As we stroll through Wyckham’s gardens, you’d think the old place had pulled out all the stops especially for my parents. The trees are thick with pink cherry blossom and rhododendrons are bursting out in delicate purple and cerise. The lawns are manicured to perfection and students lounge on the grass, reading and chatting. It’s an idyllic scene and one, I realize, that I’m going to find very hard to leave behind. Again, I get the fluttering in my stomach when I remember that I have barely eight weeks left. The thought of saying my goodbyes to my coursemates and friends from my dance class, let alone Immy, brings a lump to my throat. And I don’t even want to think about Alexander.

‘There’s a man waving to you.’ My mother tugs at my arm and when I glance over to the archway that leads from the quad to the gardens, my spirits take a nosedive.

‘It’s Professor Rafe, my tutor.’

‘He’s
coming over. How nice of him!’

‘Isn’t it?’ I mutter, as Rafe strides over the lawn towards us.

The moment he reaches me, he gives my parents a charming smile and greets me warmly. Realizing I can’t avoid what’s coming I manage to turn my grimace into a smile of my own.

‘Professor Rafe, can I introduce my parents, Bill and Blythe Cusack?’

‘Mrs Cusack, Senator Cusack. How lovely to meet you.’

‘Bill and Blythe will be just fine,’ my father says solemnly. I can see he’s amused by Rafe’s ‘Englishness’. If only he knew the truth …

‘You know, you two could be sisters,’ Rafe says. My skin crawls and for a horrible moment I think he might actually kiss her hand, but fortunately he seems to decide against it.

My mother rolls her eyes but I can tell she doesn’t hate the compliment, however cheesy. ‘Oh, not at all. I’m so glad we’ve met you. You know, when you emailed Lauren to say you were so impressed by her application for her master’s, she never stopped talking about it. I’ve never seen her as happy as when she heard she’d been accepted.’

‘Mom!’ I’m dying of embarrassment, not just at my mother’s bragging on my behalf, but at the memory of a time when I was seriously in awe of Rafe. I’m still
thrilled to have been accepted and impressed by his academic prowess, but since then, his manipulative, creepy ways and attempts to hit on me have plunged him to rock bottom in my estimation.

‘Yes, we are delighted to have her here at Wyckham.’ I’m still cringeing when he turns to me. ‘So, Lauren, I’m delighted to see you back, ready for the fray. This is the most important term, but I don’t have to remind you of how critical the next few weeks are, do I, and how vital it is not to be distracted?’ He directs a piercing look at me. I hold my breath, dreading that he might start warning me not to spend time with Alexander.

‘No, Professor, you don’t have to remind me.’

‘Of course I don’t. Lauren’s one of our most conscientious students,’ he says and my mother fails to hide her delight. I’m not sure what Daddy thinks; his diplomatic smile could be genuine pleasure at hearing me praised – or merely diplomatic.

Rafe carries on. ‘Now, Blythe, Bill, you must tell me what you think of Wyckham. Has Lauren given you the grand tour yet?’

‘Yes. It’s very impressive,’ says my father, while slanting me a look. Does he suspect that Rafe has been hinting about Alexander being a distraction? Even if he does, it’s none of my parents’ business how I run my life here, but … how I wish they weren’t so uptight about Alexander.

My
mother beams. ‘I had no idea the gardens were so beautiful and I love the Great Hall. The main part of the college is Jacobean, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, it was built by Puritan founders. Has Lauren told you about some of our more famous alumni?’ Rafe asks.

‘Not yet,’ I mutter.

‘Oh, I must fill you in, Blythe. Would you like to see the Fellows’ Garden? Visitors aren’t allowed in but I can take you on a private tour, if you’d like.’

No, no,
no
! I want to scream but of course my mother is already telling Rafe she’d be delighted and when Daddy glances at me in a contented way that I rarely see from him, I know I’ve lost the battle. All I can hope for, while I trudge after them, is that they never bump into Rafe again. Telling them he’s actually a lecherous creep would only make them worry about me even more and have my father threatening to phone the Dean or punch Rafe’s lights out. They’ve already heard enough drama in the past few days to make them want to whisk me back to Washington on the first plane out, without me adding to their concerns.

Finally, we’re back at the gateway which leads into the main gardens, and the chapel clock chimes half past the hour.

‘Will you join us for lunch, Professor Rafe?’

Just in time, I squash down a squeal at my mother’s invitation.

‘That’s
extremely kind of you but sadly I have to go and meet some prospective students and try to convince them I’m not as terrifying as my reputation.’

My mother tsks. ‘Oh, I’m sure no one could be terrified of you, Professor!’

‘I hope not. Lauren isn’t scared of me, are you?’

I throw him my widest smile, while wanting to push him in the compost heap. ‘Not at all.’

‘Good to meet you, Professor.’ My father holds out his hand and shakes Rafe’s. ‘Thanks for taking care of Lauren.’

What am I, twelve?
‘I don’t need taking care of, Daddy,’ I say coolly.

‘She certainly doesn’t.’ So Rafe’s acting like he’s on my side now? I don’t need his help either, but I do want to be out of here so I make an exaggerated show of checking my Cartier. ‘We mustn’t be late for lunch. Brown’s gets very busy at the start of term and we need to be there early to get a table.’

With a brief kiss on the cheek for my mother, Rafe is gone and my favourite sight of the morning is of his back disappearing through the arch to the Front Quad.

‘Well, that was interesting,’ Daddy says while my mother inspects a statue of one of the college’s previous wardens and I give a silent sigh of relief. ‘Your professor has some unusual political views.’

‘And here’s me thinking you were confining your conversations to the flora.’

Daddy
raises his eyebrows questioningly.

‘Professor Rafe has given me the benefit of his political views before,’ I explain.

‘I guess it’s good to be challenged,’ says Daddy carefully.

‘As long as the person is well informed? I’m here to study art, not politics. That’s Alexander’s area,’ I say.

‘So I heard. He has some robust views too.’

‘That’s why he’s doing his master’s here, Daddy, to develop his opinions.’

‘True, and while I don’t agree with some of them, he strikes me as much better informed than your professor.’

‘Which is why Rafe is a History of Art academic, not the Politics tutor.’

My father laughs softly. I’m not sure exactly what he thinks of Rafe but knowing Daddy, he won’t be taken in quite as easily as my mother by Rafe’s charming facade.

‘You’ve always had opinions of your own, Lauren, and they’ve definitely become more robust since you came over here.’

My skin prickles with tension but I’m determined to stand my ground. I also see something I rarely see in my father’s expression: doubt, uncertainty. It must be hard for him to have to let me go.

‘I
am
my father’s daughter,’ I say gently and kiss him briefly on the cheek. ‘It’s my duty to have robust opinions, even if you and Mom don’t like them.’

‘Even
so, it’s still my duty to stop you from getting hurt and it always will be.’ He looks at me and I weigh up whether to continue the debate but we’re both saved by my mother, for once, who hurries over the lawn.

‘Shall we go? I’d hate to miss lunch. Your tutor seems charming, if a little eccentric; handsome too, in a geeky way. Do some of his students have a crush on him?’

‘I don’t!’

‘Not even an intellectual one? You seemed very keen at the start of the course.’ My mother assumes her innocent face.

‘He’s very smart but he’s my tutor. I appreciate his knowledge and insight into art.’

She links her arm with mine. ‘I’m sure you do.’

Lunch at Brown’s was a great idea. I love the buzz and vibe, even today when the place is heaving with nervous students and anxious parents trying to pretend they’re cool with leaving their sons and daughters again for their exam term. I remember when mine left me at Brown University, which now feels like a very long time ago. The contrast with the day I arrived at Wyckham and the confident way I lead my parents through the streets and alleys of the city makes me realize how much I’ve found my way around Oxford, both geographically and metaphorically, despite the dramas of the past two terms.

I
only wish I knew my next move as clearly.

We take a mini tour of the Sheldonian Theatre after lunch, and as we gaze over the ‘dreaming spires’ and meadows beyond from the cupola, the whole of Oxford is spread out before me. Once again, the reality that I have one term left to enjoy it all is brought home to me. I have one term left to get a really good master’s degree and soak up the experience. One term to spend with Immy and my friends, one term to spend in Alexander’s bed and life. One term before everything is flung up in the air again. Right now, the future is as unknown to me as the world beyond that horizon.

A few days later, my parents have left to spend some time in London and the whirlwind of term has started in earnest. Alexander is back at the Oxford house trying to catch up on his studies and I’ve stayed in college to give us both a chance to concentrate on work but after spending so long staring at books and the computer screen, I really need to get out with Immy. As well as revising for exams in the Theories and Methods of the History of Art at the end of term, I have two essays to prepare for my option paper and a dissertation on my special topic – unfortunately with guidance from Professor Rafe, which means I’ll have far too much contact with him for my liking.

We left it so late to get to the Turf they were about to call last orders but it’s a fine, if chilly, night and they
still have the heaters on in the courtyard, where a brandy slips down nicely.