The Winter Children (37 page)

That’s what she longs for more than anything else.

She urges the train onwards.

Home, home, home . . .

May Ball, Cambridge, 1995

Francesca is excited. Her ball dress is exactly what she wanted: an emerald-green shantung silk, strapless, with a tiny tight waist and falling gently to her mid-calf. Underneath is a light
underskirt and a layer of netting, just enough to swell the skirt out a little bit. The mid-calf length gives it a sixties look, which she has enhanced with a pair of shoes she found in a vintage
clothing shop; with bright pink satin, long pointed toes and kitten heels, they are the real thing. Around her neck is a string of pearls – not real but looking very like it. Her hair, which
is shoulder-length, has been teased up into an Audrey Hepburn beehive, around which she’s tied another string of pearls, and her black cats-flick eyeliner, mascara’d lashes and pale
lips complete the look.

She twirls in front of the mirror. She looks elegant, kittenish, pretty and sexy. Exactly as she wanted. Standing in front of her reflection, she takes a deep breath. Tonight is the night.
She’s going to do her level best. After all, she’s spent three years watching Dan getting off with other girls. Now their exams are finished, and Cambridge will soon be over too. They’ll be leaving in a couple of weeks. There is no saying when she will ever get another chance.

‘This is my night,’ she tells her reflection firmly. She is certain this is the best she has ever looked, and it feels as though all her years at Cambridge have been leading towards this point. She remembers how she arrived here, with the wrong clothes and the wrong accent, with no friends and no idea of anything except that she desperately longed to fit in with the
gilded crowd – the clever, sophisticated ones from their private schools, with their confidence and drawling witticisms.

And now here she is: she knows how to dress and make a joke and smoke a cigarette and pop a champagne cork. She is about to meet her friends – a group of the university’s brightest,
best looking and funniest – and they will spend the evening drinking and dancing, celebrating the end of their university days and the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Francesca snatches up her wrap, slips her room keys, ball ticket and some money into her evening bag and hurries out to meet the others.

There are drinks first, in a pub near the college. The streets are thronging with ball-goers; the townspeople ignore them but the tourists are enraptured by the spectacle, taking photographs
of the students in their finery. There are newspaper photographers out too, looking for the best-looking girls to snap for the tabloids, to show their readers how the posh kids spend an average
Saturday night.

Jimmy, who has family money, buys two bottles of champagne and they drink them outside to warm up for the evening ahead, smoking cigarettes and talking.

Claire comes up to Francesca. She looks, Francesca thinks, distinctly ordinary although she’s made an effort in a bright red satin dress with a matching jacket, her blonde hair in a kind
of messy updo, and lipstick to match the dress, which is a mistake. Claire says admiringly, ‘Cheska, you look gorgeous, you really do.’

Francesca smiles modestly but knows she looks polished and put-together next to Claire. ‘Thanks. I found the shoes second-hand.’ She lifts one to show it. ‘Real sixties
shoes.’

‘Did you? That’s clever! I’d never think of second-hand shoes. You can’t help imagining verrucas, can you?’ Claire wrinkles her nose and laughs. Dan looks over from
where he is sitting talking to Stevie, and blows out a stream of cigarette smoke in their direction.

Francesca has the sudden urge to whack Claire across the face, but she restrains it and instead says placidly, ‘They’re from Harrods, so I don’t think it’s an
issue.’

Jimmy comes over to top up their glasses. ‘How’s my little scarlet sex kitten?’ he says, kissing Claire’s cheek as he pours champagne for her. ‘You look
ravishing.’

Claire giggles and raises her eyes at Francesca as if to say,
What is he like?
But Francesca knows she adores Jimmy. Francesca lets him fill her glass, and compliment her extravagantly
too, but the person she is really aware of is Dan. He is coming to the ball single tonight, since he split up with his last girlfriend – a loathsome girl called Emma – on a ticket shared with Stevie, who is habitually single. Stevie works so hard as a medic student that his preferred way of unwinding is with a lot of drink, some drugs and whoever is in the mood for him
that night.

That’s fine.
Francesca has her back to Dan and Stevie as they sit at a table, talking and smoking, but she knows exactly what’s going on.
He can keep Dan out of trouble and
then, later, he can go off with someone he picks up at the ball.

She isn’t going to talk to Dan yet. Besides, she’s going to play hard to get tonight. At first. She knows he expects her to come running whenever he clicks his fingers, so
she’s going to try ignoring him and see what happens.

In the event, just keeping her back to him at the pub works better than she could have expected. As they make their way along the cobbled streets towards the college, she finds Dan walking
beside her.

‘Would you like an arm?’ he asks gallantly, holding his elbow out towards her. ‘These cobbles are tricky in heels, aren’t they? Although you’re obviously making it
look easy. You’re gliding along like a duchess at Versailles.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiles and puts her hand on the rough wool of his dinner jacket. He is even more handsome in his evening clothes, a blue silk bow tie matching his eyes.

‘May I say you’re looking exquisite this evening.’ He casts his gaze down over the shimmering emerald silk of her dress. ‘Really lovely.’ There’s a tone of the very slightest surprise in his voice, but she doesn’t mind. This is how it’s supposed to go. Tonight he’s going to see
her differently for the very first time.

‘How kind,’ she says dreamily, as though barely hearing him. Then she turns and gives him a sweet smile. ‘Dan, do you mind if I desert you for a moment? I must have a word with
Stevie.’ She takes her hand from his arm, gathers up her skirts and runs lightly away along the cobbles to where Stevie is walking alone, smoking, his shoulders hunched and his hand in his
pocket.

This is the other part of her plan. She will give the attention she usually gives to Dan to someone else, and see what he makes of it.

At the college, they meet up with Alyssa and some of her crowd from another college. Francesca scans them anxiously looking for competition but no one is dazzling enough to prove too much of a
threat. Though there’s no telling with Dan, of course. His eye is a very wandering one, and there are so many willing targets. But she has a feeling that she has piqued his interest tonight,
and she takes care to keep her distance, all the while maintaining her sparkling, sweet, smiling exterior, accepting all the compliments coming her way with a demure and girlish air.

They go into the ball and begin to explore. The college has been transformed into a funfair, with stalls and rides, a casino and several themed bars. There are tents on the lawns for dining and
dancing. Magicians wander around performing tricks, and acrobats stun with their agility on tightropes strung over the quad. Fire-eaters douse flaming torches in their throats and pretty girls
ride standing up on white ponies with glittering headdresses.

They go in for their dinner sitting, placed around a table in the stuffy tent, the ice bucket in the middle crammed with bottles. Francesca makes sure to sit across from Dan, where he can see her but not speak to her without shouting over the bouquet of
bottle necks between them. Dinner is perfectly acceptable – the usual college mass catering – but nothing special. They drink with more enthusiasm than they eat, and smoke between
courses.

When dinner is finished, it’s after ten o’clock and time to start enjoying the real fun of the ball. Francesca has been talking and flirting with Stevie, who seems mildly surprised
and rather pleased by the attention he is getting. Now she begs him to take her on the dodgem cars that are set up on the back meadow, and they all go there. She gets into a car with Stevie,
tucking her silk skirt under her and squealing as he steers them violently around the floor, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, his bow tie already hanging loose around his neck. Dan is in
another car with Alyssa, and Jimmy and Claire in another. The floor is full of metallic shiny cars shooting back and forth, ramming into each other and flying around. Francesca realises with glee
that Dan is steering his car after theirs, or cutting a corner to spin round into them and crash head on.

‘Fuck off, Felbeck, you bastard!’ roars Stevie. ‘I’ll have you!’ and for a while they chase Dan, who seems to enjoy fleeing from them in sharp twists of the
steering wheel. He looks so handsome, Francesca’s insides go hot and melt a little more every time she sets eyes on him. It is a feeling she enjoys.

When the dodgems are over, she takes Stevie by the hand and they go to the next ride, the helter-skelter, and after that, the merry-go-round, and then the swingboats. The others seem content to follow where she and Stevie are leading and they are all
laughing and enjoying themselves. The last of the big rides is the Ferris wheel, set up so that the little rocking cars will give the ball-goers a splendid view of the college below and the
vibrant, fairy-lit proceedings there.

‘Come on, Stevie,’ Francesca says, running for a seat in the car at the bottom. ‘Let’s ride up together.’

A voice at her side says, ‘Actually, I’ll take this one,’ and Dan is there, climbing in beside her, while Stevie shrugs and waits for the next car to come along. They move up
one shunt, so that they aren’t far from the ground. Francesca, alive with excitement, and full of the power of her femininity, says nothing but inside she is revelling. She has Dan alone
with her on the Ferris wheel, at his instigation.
Oh, this night is perfect already. It’s completely perfect. But I mustn’t spoil it.

Playing it cool has got her this far, so she will carry on.

Without a word, Dan hands her a bottle of white wine he has been carrying and she takes a swig. They move another few feet into the air, the chair rocking gently under them. Soon all the chairs will be refilled with fresh riders and then they will
start to turn properly. They have at least twenty minutes together, she reckons. There’s no hurry. She passes the bottle back to Dan. They are both pleasantly drunk, uninhibited but
perfectly capable of normal conversation. Still she says nothing.

Dan takes the bottle and has another swig himself. The chair shunts on. Then he leans over to her and says in a low voice, ‘What’s the idea?’

‘What do you mean?’ she asks lightly, smoothing her skirt. She gazes out at the Cambridge summer night. ‘Isn’t this beautiful? Look at the view!’

‘Don’t change the subject, my dear,’ he says strictly. ‘What is the big idea?’

He is quite drunk, she realises, from the way he is carefully enunciating his words.

She looks at him over one bare white shoulder. ‘You’ll have to explain.’

‘With Stevie,’ he says patiently. ‘Are you going to get off with him?’

She doesn’t answer at once. Part of her brain is filled with scorn, both for him and for her. Why hadn’t she done something like this before? Was it really so easy – all she
had to do was play hard to get, flirt with another man and goad him to win her? But mostly she is thrilled and excited at what might be about to happen. He has never expressed any interest in her
romantic life before.

‘Well?’ He passes her the bottle again and she takes another drink, not much this time. She doesn’t want to get too drunk. It’s still early. The ball goes on until
sunrise.

‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘Maybe.’

The chair shunts for the last time, and then the ride begins in earnest, the little swings sailing smoothly up into the night air. They will go around twice or three times before they start the
process of disembarking in the same order, so that every chair gets the chance to halt at the top and rock there like a little cradle, the occupants enjoying the view spread out below.

They ride in silence, enjoying the peace up here, with the noise of the ball rising and falling in waves as they go round. Then the cars come to a stop again. The first riders start to climb
out, letting new ones in.

‘So,’ Dan says languidly, ‘you haven’t answered my question, Cheska. What are you going to do tonight? Are you going to snog our friend Stevie?’

‘I told you, I haven’t decided.’ She shrugs lightly. ‘Anyway, what does it matter to you?’

He leans towards her, his expression earnest. His nearness is almost too much to bear. ‘Because you’re my supervision partner and therefore I have a responsibility towards
you.’

She laughs. ‘Oh, you do, do you?’

‘Yes. I do. Ask any supervisor. It’s the rule.’ He sits back in the chair just as they swing upwards another level, almost at the top now. Once they are there, they will be
invisible to everyone.

‘Well, it’s very sweet of you but I don’t need looking after.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ he says. ‘You don’t know what Stevie’s like. He’s an animal.’

‘Whereas you are the perfect gentleman.’ She shoots him another coquettish look. ‘At least I know I have nothing to fear from you.’

‘Oh, really?’ He smiles, his eyes narrowed, looking at her in an appraising way she has never seen before, one that makes her skin tingle and sends a fizz of pleasure shooting around
her stomach like a pinball in a machine.

‘We’ve been friends all this time,’ she says softly, ‘and you’ve never tried anything before now.’

The chair jerks lightly upwards. They are at the top, swinging gently, unseen by everyone. He leans towards her again, his arm resting behind her shoulders.

‘Maybe that was my mistake.’

She shuts her eyes, and breathes out slowly. This is her dream, happening now. Actually happening. The next moment, she feels his hand on her jaw, turning her face gently towards him and his
lips land on hers, kissing her. It’s the most wonderful kiss she’s ever known: his soft mouth against hers, then their lips opening to each other, and the meeting of his velvet tongue,
the unbearably delicious taste of him, the scent of his skin close to hers. Everything in her wants to yield to him and possess him at the same time. A voice in her head says,
At last. At last
he’s seen me. He’s really seen me. He feels the same way.