The Choice (21 page)

We spent the rest of the afternoon together, increasing my sense of having scored a victory, but I knew he was still seeing a lot of Giles and presumably for the same purpose. He hadn’t admitted to it either, as such, although I was pretty sure that he was aware that I’d at least guessed. Not mentioning it had become yet another tactful compromise, and with my own circumstances I could see that a need for discretion was going to become an ever more important part of my life.

As it happened I saw Giles before Stephen did, when I went over to the Chamber after dinner. He was in the bar, as usual, but instead of holding forth to a group of cronies in what had become almost his personal armchair he was at a table in the far corner, alone but for a girl I didn’t recognise. She was small, blonde, strikingly pretty and blessed, or cursed, with awkwardly large round breasts, something it was impossible to miss. As I drew nearer I saw that despite a tiny waist she was equally well endowed in the bottom department. I was curious and not about to be put off by the distinctly uninviting glance he threw me as I approached their table.

‘Hello, Giles. Hello. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

‘Good manners oblige, I suppose. Poppy, meet Lucy Smith. Lucy, this is Poppaea, a dreadful hack who has usurped my position as Recorder.’

She answered in a soft voice, all sex and bemusement. ‘But you’re the President?’

‘A position she will also usurp in due time. Now if you don’t mind, Poppy, my sweet, I’m trying to seduce this gorgeous young lady and you are rather cramping my style, as I believe the expression goes.’

It struck me that even Giles wouldn’t have spoken the way he had unless the seduction was complete. She giggled, confirming my suspicions and increasing my curiosity. I chose to ignore him, addressing her instead.

‘Hi. I’m at Boniface, reading PPE, and you?’

‘Maths, at Mary’s.’

I’d been half expecting her to say she wasn’t at the university at all, because she looked and spoke as if she belonged in a glamour magazine, but I’d met enough mathematicians to know that they can be intelligent in a completely different way to the rest of humanity. She was nice too, eager to be friendly and plainly captivated by Giles, so that after exchanging a few pleasantries I decided it was best to leave them alone after all, and to help things along a bit.

‘I’ll leave you to it then. Lucky girl.’

Giles said something I didn’t catch as I made for the bar, where I ordered a gin and tonic. Instead of joining any of the people I knew, I perched myself on a stool, lost in thought. Lucy was sex on a stick, from a teenage boy’s perspective, all boobs and bum and as pretty as a picture, and while I was a little surprised that Giles was interested in her there was obviously something between them. That could only be to my advantage, as far as Stephen was concerned, as with any luck Giles would be getting all he could handle from Lucy and not want to risk her finding out about his dirty habits. I was determined to help push the relationship along in any way I could, a decision made without a trace of guilt. After all, neither Giles nor Stephen had bothered to consult me, or even to tell me.

My chance came sooner than I expected. I’d barely finished my drink when the Secretary came in, making a beeline for Giles. Whatever it was looked urgent and I joined them again, listening as the Secretary explained the looming crisis over
Giles’
determination to choose speakers with the most radical views possible.

‘… and they’re threatening some sort of direct action. The General Secretary is on the phone, and you’re going to have to speak to him yourself.’

Giles drew a sigh as he heaved himself up from his chair. ‘Wretched little people, they have no concept of the meaning of free speech. Look after Lucy, would you, Pops? I shall not be long, I hope.’

I slid myself into his chair, immediately apologising to Lucy on Giles’ behalf. ‘I’m afraid that sort of thing happens all the time, but don’t let it put you off. You two are together, aren’t you? Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but …’

‘That’s OK. Yes, sort of, I suppose.’

‘You’re so lucky. Everybody likes Giles … not me, of course, because I’m with his best friend, Stephen. We must all go out together sometime.’

‘I’d like that, thank you.’

‘No, really. I’ll come over to Mary’s later in the week and sort it out if you like, because if we leave it to the boys it’ll never happen. But how come I haven’t seen you about? Are you a Chamber member?’

‘No, not here. The Student Union, yes. I suppose I keep myself to myself, really, and there’s Chess Club, and Pi. Giles is so sweet, isn’t he?’

I’d been right. She was a mathematician through and through, brilliant but utterly naïve. Nobody else could have described Giles as sweet, especially after going to bed with him, as she presumably had. I’d never been entirely sure what he was into, but between some of the things he’d said and talking to Stephen I was pretty sure he was a dirty bastard. Fortunately I’d become an accomplished liar.

‘Yes, he’s lovely. So how did you two get together?’

‘He came up to my room and asked me out. I was really surprised. He’d never even spoken to me before, and he is the best-looking man in college. I’m always seeing him about the place with the most beautiful girls.’

The temptation to make some remark about Giles being seen with beautiful men as well as women was considerable, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Instead we began to chat about university life, and the more I drew her out the more surprised I became that Giles had fixed on her. She was quite shy, and distinctly introverted, had got in from a South London comprehensive with perfect A levels and quite simply didn’t belong to his world in any way at all, except that they were both at Mary’s. He also preferred boys, while she was abundantly feminine. What she did have was a sense of mischief, and it was easy to imagine her letting herself go completely in bed, which was presumably why he found her attractive.

Before long he returned to the table, still trying to seem nonchalant but plainly angry. ‘It really is extraordinary. I tried to explain to the wretched little oik that just because I invite a speaker doesn’t mean I share their opinions, but he simply wouldn’t listen. If we let Suarez speak his gang of layabouts won’t work, not that we’re likely to notice, and apparently at least half the pinkos in the university will be picketing the gates.’

‘Are you going to cancel?’

‘Certainly not. Think of the publicity, you foolish girl. We’ll be on the national news. There’ll have to be a vote though, and that, Poppaea, means work. Sorry, Lucy, but Poppy and I have to persuade at least two hundred people that freedom of speech outweighs personal politics.’

‘Can I help?’

‘Only by going back to college, pouring yourself a large glass of whatever takes your fancy and getting into my bed.’

She giggled in response, not in the least embarrassed by his
suggestion,
for all her apparent shyness. Giles gave her his room key and kissed her with real affection, or so it seemed, and she looked back twice across her shoulder before leaving the bar. For a moment he and I were alone.

‘She’s nice.’

‘Nice? She’s delectable. Tits like melons and the morals of a rutting polecat. You could learn a thing or two from her. To think I have to talk to these idiots when I could be in bed with her, but still, better get on with it, eh? Unless you fancy giving me a quick bj in the loos first, just as a spot of stress therapy?’

‘No, I do not.’

We got down to work, circulating among our colleagues and explaining the same points over and over again. I was also going to have to organise the press, despite having no particular interest in the cause, beyond being in broad agreement with Giles on freedom of speech and wanting to hear what Suarez had to say out of a sort of horrid fascination.

It was gone eleven o’clock before we decided that we’d done all we could, and as I started back for college I was ready for bed. Giles walked with me as far as Boniface Lodge, kissing me goodnight before hurrying on to Mary’s and Lucy. I hurried into college, rather pleased with myself despite being so tired. The day had gone rather well, and would be perfect if Violet was still awake and was game for a cuddle.

Our oak was shut and my spirits fell, but I unlocked it to find her door open. She was sitting on her bed, dressed in nothing but stockings and black French knickers, with her hairbrush in one hand and a meaningful look in her eyes. I managed a nervous smile.

‘What’s this for?’

‘I saw you, you bad girl, and I heard you. What was it, being shared by two men? You are a disgrace, Poppy Miller. Now come down across my knee, this instant!’

‘Hang on, you mean you peeped at me with Stephen!?’

‘Yes, and I saw everything.’

‘Exactly, and what happened when I peeped at you?’

She didn’t answer, her stern expression fading to uncertainty.

I went on. ‘Yes, Violet, I got spanked, didn’t I, knickers down, in front of James.’

‘That’s not the point …’

‘Oh yes it is.’

I pushed the oak shut and ran at her. She tried to grab me and we went down on the bed together, laughing as we tried to get at each other. I’d meant to spank her, but in just moments we’d both given in, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes and our own. We were soon naked, rolling together on the bed, each eager for the other, but it was Violet who took control, climbing on top of me to apply a dozen firm swats to my bottom as she told me off, then going head to tail and burying her face between my open thighs. I gave her bottom a single hard slap, but I had decided her punishment could wait and as she began to lick I was lost to everything but the pleasure of her body and my own. My work, the upcoming bumps, the flap at the Chamber, even Stephen and Giles and Lucy; nothing mattered, only the slender beautiful girl on top of me, the warmth of my smacked bottom and the wonderful things she was doing with her tongue.

14

THE NEXT MORNING
I found myself with no choice but to concentrate on things other than Violet. We were still in bed together, fast asleep, when the first knock sounded on the door. A few moments of panic-stricken adjustment and I was able to unlock our oak, peering out through still bleary eyes to find the rest of St Boniface Women’s Boat Club looking horribly keen and athletic.

The cox tapped her watch. ‘Seven o’clock in the lodge, Poppy. It’s nearly ten past.’

I managed a groan, which I hoped they’d take for enthusiasm, and pushed on my door. It was locked, just as it had been all night. For one awful moment I remained frozen, sure that all thirteen of them would be able to work out exactly why my door was locked, only for inspiration to strike.

‘Bother. I’ve locked myself out!’

A voice at the back piped up. ‘I’ll run to the lodge.’

She went, leaving me grinning inanely and hoping that none of them would realise that I was wearing Violet’s bathrobe. When the porter finally turned up, none too pleased, and used his master key to let me into my own room I was forced to shut the oak so that I could retrieve my own key from Violet’s room before changing into my running kit. She thought it was funny, until she saw the worry on my face.

‘Don’t be upset, Poppy. You haven’t done anything wrong, and I don’t suppose they’ll realise anyway.’

I put my finger to my lips to hush her, for all that she’d
spoken
in a whisper. Most of the team were still outside, and I found myself trying to avoid eye contact as we ran from college. Nobody said anything, and by the time we’d got back I had managed to convince myself that they hadn’t noticed. After all, they all knew I was with Stephen, and none of them had actually seen me in Violet’s room, but I was still angry with myself for not being more careful.

Once I’d showered and changed again I came back down to the lodge, to find a note in my pigeonhole, from the secretary of a society dedicated to supporting human rights in Latin America, concerned about Suarez. I had no choice but to go and speak to her, grabbing a bun with icing on top from the Queen’s Lane Coffee House as I passed. She’d asked to meet in the JCR at Mary’s, and turned out to have half-a-dozen other people with her, all determined to voice their opposition to the visit. Two hours later I’d managed to persuade them that only by allowing Suarez to speak would they be able to tell him what they thought.

I left them discussing placards and made my way back to Boniface, feeling pleased with myself despite a creeping sense of exhaustion. This time there were two notes, one from Giles, demanding to know why I wasn’t at the Chamber, and one from Dr Etheridge, asking me to extend my essay to cover Churchill’s influence following his final stint as Prime Minister. That meant maybe three hours’ research and another two writing, which meant I wouldn’t be able to see Stephen that evening, especially if I was going to support Giles.

As I made for the Chamber I felt as if I was beginning to crack up, but I was soon lost in work as I began to sort out press releases and make calls to ensure that we got as much coverage as possible and that it stayed positive. Giles had been right about the publicity, and I was soon getting calls back, some critical, some supportive, but most wanting more
information.
By lunchtime I had a severe headache and the computer screen had began to shimmer, forcing me to stop.

There was already a picket outside, all of whom wanted to talk to me in the hope of changing my mind. At that point I’d have cheerfully strangled Suarez had he turned up, but I did my best to placate them with the same argument I’d used before. I was feeling faint, and picked up a pie in the market on my way to the Bodleian, drawing curious glances from a group of Japanese tourists as I shoved it into my mouth before going in.

My headache had got worse and I couldn’t even focus on the words in the books I’d chosen, so found myself a quiet library chair and shut my eyes, hoping that a few minutes of rest would make it all better. It was gone three o’clock when I woke up, with a horrible taste in my mouth but no headache. I got down to work, scribbling notes as fast as I could while I worried about the rowing practice I’d missed and what was going on at the Chamber.