The Choice (26 page)

I was left with Stephen, who was unusually silent, but took my hand as we left Mary’s. By then it was gone one, the streets were all but empty and I was feeling tired with a busy day ahead, which seemed a more than reasonable excuse to ask him to walk me back to Boniface instead of taking me to bed. I gave a meaningful yawn.

‘That was lovely, but the service was so slow. I’m tired.’

He didn’t answer, but let go of my hand and slipped his arm around my waist. I thought of the six still vivid welts marking my bottom, and to all intents and purposes marking me as James’ girl. Bed really was out of the question. A bit of casual conversation seemed in order, hopefully heading off any rude suggestions.

‘Are you going to the Mary’s garden party on Saturday?’

‘No, I can’t actually.’

He sounded oddly sheepish, rousing my curiosity.

‘Why not?’

‘Um … it’s the Hawkubites dinner.’

‘Oh.’

I wasn’t really bothered, having largely abandoned my outrage at their childish behaviour, while it meant I’d been able to spend as much of the weekend as I could afford to sacrifice from revision with James and Violet. We’d reached the bottom of Queen’s Lane, and he made to steer me up it towards Emmanuel rather than along the High. I resisted.

‘I’m too tired, Stephen. Just take me back to college.’

‘Oh … please, Poppy. There’s something important I need to say to you.’

‘Can’t you say it here?’

‘Not really, no. It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to be somewhere special.’

He was almost pleading, and an awful suspicion had begun to creep up on me. I tried to make a joke of it. ‘Special? As in your room in Emmanuel?’

‘A lot’s happened there. It’s special for us, isn’t it?’

Now he was defensive, making me feel guilty as well as agitated. I wanted to get away, but I felt awful for my own reaction, now sure what he was going to say. We began to walk up the lane, slowly, only for him to come to an abrupt halt.

‘No, you’re right, and we can always come back here.’

I’d stopped too, not knowing what to say, both of us silent, standing still with the moonlight flooding down across the Bridge of Sighs to stretch weak shadows along the ground. Never had the name been more apt, and I couldn’t speak for the lump in my throat as he reached into his pocket.

‘Stephen, I …’

He’d gone down on one knee and was holding up a small black box. As he opened the lid I was struggling to find words; to tell him I knew what he did with Giles, that I was no better myself, that I was in love with somebody else, anything to make him stop, but no words would come. I’d begun to cry as I saw the ring, a narrow band of white gold supporting a diamond alight with reflections from the moon and a distant street lamp.

At last he spoke. ‘Poppy Miller, please will you be my wife?’

Still I couldn’t answer, unable to accept him, desperate for the words that would deny him without causing hurt but knowing it was impossible. I wanted to run, for the earth to swallow me up, anything to put off the moment I had to answer, but he quickly spoke again.

‘Please, Poppy. I promise to be everything to you, everything you need.’

He took my hand and pushed the ring down onto my finger.

17

I WAS ENGAGED
, or not as the case might be. Everybody certainly thought I was engaged, because Stephen was anything but reticent about it and the news spread like wildfire among the rowers and, via Giles, around the Chamber. I’d barely finished my panic-stricken attempt at explanation to Violet before people were knocking on my door wanting to congratulate me, and when I came into the Chamber for the debate that evening a huge banner had been strung across the main chamber, with ‘Congratulations Poppaea and Stephen’ written across it in brilliant-red letters two feet high. Aside from my parents when I’d done something really appalling, only Giles ever used my full name, so I knew he was behind it, and sure enough he emerged grinning from the crowd as I stood there with my mouth open.

‘Congratulations! I told him you’d go for it.’

‘You knew he was going to propose?’

‘Of course. He always asks my advice, young Mitchell, and I’m to be best man, naturally.’

‘Oh God.’

He laughed and clapped me on the back, then made for his place to call the debate to order. I’d been revising in the Bodleian, or rather hiding, and was late, while it was the final debate of his programme as President, so it was already standing room only and I was glad of the seat reserved for me as Recorder. He’d been clever, setting a debate entitled ‘This House believes that the University of Oxford should return to full
independence’,
which ensured plenty of robust debate while forcing his opponent for the Presidency to toe the Government line and therefore make himself highly unpopular.

I watched with interest, and once the vote had come in with an overwhelming majority in favour of the motion I was sure he’d be re-elected by a safe margin. James had attended, as he often did, but not Violet, and as soon as I’d completed my official work I went over to where he was talking to a group of students, eager to see him and hopefully to explain the situation.

One of the others spoke up as I approached. ‘Poppy, congratulations! That’s wonderful news, and quite a debate tonight, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, and trust Giles to use it to his own advantage.’

‘That’s Giles for you, but it’s likely to be you against him next term, isn’t it?’

‘Possibly. We’ll see. Hello, James.’

He gave me a bold smile but no more. For a while we talked as a group, while I kept a nervous eye out for Stephen, still completely at a loss as to what to say to him. Only the pretence of exhaustion had allowed me to get away the night before, and I couldn’t hide forever. Fortunately he didn’t seem to be about, and Giles was nowhere to be seen either, leaving me safe to ask James a cheeky question.

‘I don’t suppose you could give me a lift?’

None of the people with us knew I lived in, but he did and was fully aware that I was suggesting he take me home.

His answering smile was all innocence. ‘Yes, if you like, as long as you’re happy to go now. I really need to get back.’

‘Of course. Excuse me.’

We left, navigating our way across the crowded floor and out of the debating chamber. It was a warm night and there were plenty of people in the garden, including Giles, who was holding court to one of the guest speakers and a dozen others.
He
didn’t seem to notice me and we were soon clear of the gate and starting up Cornmarket towards where he’d parked his car.

I felt as if I’d made some daring escape, and couldn’t resist taking his hand once we’d reached quieter streets. He returned the pressure briefly, then let go to take his mobile from his pocket and call Violet. We collected her and made for his house, the three of us talking eagerly about our plans for the summer until we arrived.

It seemed so natural, as if the relationship between the three of us was no more unusual than any other. When we got to James’ house he made us a supper of salad and cold ham, while Violet opened a bottle of wine. We ate and drank, joking among ourselves, and after a while we began to kiss and to touch. Violet and I took turns across James’ lap, first with our clothing disarranged and then naked, until our bottoms were hot and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, or him. We went down together for him, kneeling side by side as we sucked and licked at his cock and balls, taking him all the way before tumbling together on the carpet, head to tail as we brought each other to ecstasy.

Satisfied, we showered and went to bed, with James in the middle and the alarm clock set for seven-thirty so that I could be up in plenty of time for the first day of prelims in the morning. Only as I was on the very edge of sleep was my contentment broken, giving way to guilt and worry as the moonlight caught the facets of my engagement ring where it lay on James’ bedside table.

My plans for an early start the next day didn’t go quite as I had intended. The alarm clock went off on time and I got up, but so did James, who insisted on cooking me bacon and eggs for breakfast before driving me in, with Violet still asleep in
bed.
He dropped me as close to Boniface as he could get without being sucked into the worst part of the one-way system, where I kissed him and said goodbye.

The rest of the day was swallowed up, first by philosophy, by far my weakest subject, and then politics, by far my strongest and Dr Etheridge’s own speciality. I came out feeling weak and badly in need of a drink, but also triumphant. Both my moral and general philosophy sections had contained questions I’d been reading up on only the day before, while the politics question on the distinction between different branches of socialism in the late nineteenth century related directly to at least three of my essays that term. Barring a complete disaster in my economics exam I was sure to be through.

That left the weekend clear, and I wondered if I should go and see Stephen and attempt to sort out the mess of our supposed engagement, either immediately or in the morning before beating a retreat to the safety and comfort of James’ house. I was expected back, with hints of a trip to the woods on the Sunday, while as my cane welts had gradually faded my desire for more had risen. To really enjoy it I’d need a clear conscience, which was impossible to achieve with Stephen’s diamond winking meaningfully on my finger.

I steeled myself to do it, all the things that needed to be said running through my mind as I made for Emmanuel, only to discover that he wasn’t there, which left me feeling somewhat foolish. The big magnolia outside his block provided the perfect place to sit and wait, with its low branches and broad leaves to shade me from the sun. It also meant I couldn’t be seen at all easily, for which I was extremely grateful when Stephen finally appeared, with Giles and Lucy. She had a blue velvet gown hung over one arm, still encased in plastic from the dry cleaners.

They were deep in conversation, and I stayed as I was until they’d disappeared inside his block. It was obviously impossible to have anything in the way of a meaningful conversation with Stephen while other people were around, and I was about to leave when they came out again. I was just in time to nip back into the shelter of the tree, and as they made their way through the arch into the main quad I saw that Stephen was holding what looked like car keys.

I had already realised that Giles intended to hire the farmhouse restaurant we’d visited as the venue for the Hawkubites dinner, but a new suspicion began to dawn on me. It wasn’t at all the sort of place they generally used. Les Couleurs was more typical, for all that they were firmly banned. The Barn wasn’t exceptionally expensive, and didn’t even do French wine, or cigars, or cognac, while aside from the tables and possibly the big glass doors it was going to be hard to trash without industrial machinery. However, it was as remote as anywhere in southern England and belonged to people he knew. When we’d been there he and his friend Nigel had spent a long time in private conversation, while there had been a board announcing that it could be booked for private functions. Also, Giles was the one with the car, a two-seater, but Stephen was the one holding car keys, which suggested they’d hired a bigger vehicle. Finally there was Lucy’s newly cleaned evening gown. They were planning to gang-bang her.

My immediate reaction was to tell myself the idea was just too outrageous, but it wasn’t. I’d spoken to Lucy often enough to know that she liked sex and had very few moral scruples, while she was besotted with Giles and got drunk very easily indeed. My second reaction was that it was none of my business, but there was Stephen, who had just asked me to marry him whatever else might be going on, and the possibility that
she
hadn’t agreed to do it but would simply be filled to the brim with beer and then coaxed into sex. I could imagine Giles doing it, because underneath all his roguish charm he was a complete bastard.

At the very least I had to talk to her and make sure she was allright. I followed, keeping my distance, to the bottom of Parks Road, where Giles and Stephen turned north, leaving Lucy to continue down Holywell Street towards Mary’s. I hurried after her, quickly catching up.

‘Hi, Lucy. That’s pretty.’

‘Isn’t it lovely? Giles bought it for me.’

‘Lucky you!’

‘He is generous, but … you’re engaged!’

I shrugged, eager to avoid the topic. ‘Where are you going? He’s not taking you to the Hawkubites dinner, is he?’

She hesitated and I immediately knew I’d hit on the truth. All I needed were the details, but I could hardly ask straight out, especially if she was being paid. I decided to bluff.

‘It’s OK, I know how it works. They invited me in my first term, but …’

I trailed off, hoping she’d fill in the gaps. She didn’t, but began to colour up a little and I went on hastily.

‘It’s all right, it’s just that Stephen wasn’t a member then, or I’d have gone.’

Now she was smiling, but she still sounded a little cautious as she went on. ‘I’m glad you understand. People around here are so stuck up. I mean, so it might get a little bit naughty, but what’s wrong with that. It’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it?’

I laughed. ‘Yes, of course, but I suspect it might get more than a little bit naughty.’

She giggled, then turned, looking at me for confirmation. I couldn’t help but give it, for all I’d never have let a dozen randy men take turns with me, because I knew perfectly well
that
most people would consider what I did do to be worse. An open question now seemed reasonable.

‘You are OK with it, aren’t you? You do know there’ll be about twelve men?’

I wasn’t even entirely sure what she’d agreed to, and expected her to at least betray a little nervousness. To my surprise she merely shrugged and her voice was full of mischief as she answered me.

‘Twelve’s good.’

She glanced at me, bright eyed and smiling.

‘Can you keep a secret?’

‘Yes, of course. Tell me.’

I’ve had fifteen.’