Third Time Lucky (20 page)

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Authors: Pippa Croft

‘But I’m not sure she could do the same for you.’

The verbal rally flies over my head. Once upon a time, I might have fantasized about having two gorgeous guys competing for my attention and I guess by some twisted logic I ought to be gratified, but it just complicates life.

‘Enough, you two!’ I explode with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Do I have any say in this conversation, boys?’

Scott smiles. ‘Just our little joke, huh, Alexander?’

‘Perhaps Lauren isn’t finding it so funny?’Alexander shoots back.

I smile, although like Queen Victoria, I’m not amused. ‘Hey, I was thinking that you two should get a room. Excuse me, I need the bathroom.’

‘If you want company, you know where I am,’ Scott says, ignoring Alexander.

I reciprocate by ignoring them both and heading for the ladies’ room at the back of the boathouse. Jesus, I feel like some furry woodland creature being fought over by a grizzly and a cougar.

We got back well before midnight, after going on to a bar but deciding not to bother with a club. Exams start for all of us next week and the partying has to go on hold until they’re over.

Now Alexander’s dead to the world and the first hint of dawn is creeping into our bedroom when I get up to
use the bathroom. That is, to use the bathroom as my office because I couldn’t resist hiding in there to check the email that, beeping as it arrived, woke me from sleep. As I’d guessed, it was from Donna Ross’s PA, setting up a meeting for the week after the end of term. I slide back into bed next to Alexander, trying not to wake him, and watched the dawn steal into the room.

So. This is it. In just over twelve hours’ time, I’ll be turning over the page of my first exam essay. To remind me, my subfusc outfit hangs on the back of the closet door, like a cast-off from the Hogwarts costume department. The evening sun shines through the window of my room on to the bizarre combination of black skirt (DKNY), white fitted shirt (J Crew) and graduate gown (Shepherd and Woodward).

The black velvet ribbon I have to wear as a tie lies on the desk top ready for morning, alongside a fresh pack of black thigh-highs. I tried the whole shebang on earlier before texting a photo to my parents and deciding the gown needed ironing. God knows why I’m bothered that it looks right. It seems crazy to be dressed in so many layers on what promises to be the hottest day of the year so far.

Fortunately, I only have three short exams left to do on the methodology I’ve been studying over the past two terms. I already handed in my option essays and my dissertation.

For encouragement, I look again at the good-luck
cards ranged along the window ledge and tacked to my pinboard. There’s one from my parents, of course, from Alexander, Immy and lots of friends from Wyckham and my course. There’s also one from Emma, hand-drawn, and a funny card from Letty with a faux Latin message that translates as: ‘Don’t let the buggers get you down.’ They all bring a smile to my lips, for various reasons, even the postcard from Professor Rafe with its creepy Schiele nude and German message: ‘
Viel Gluck
from Egon!’

I’ve set my mobile alarm to ‘repeat’ and Immy and I also made a pact to knock on each other’s doors to make sure at least one of us is awake. Alexander has already had one exam and has two more tomorrow; we’ve agreed to spend the time apart so we can get some work done without further distraction. We’ve tried studying together but it really didn’t work. So we’re meeting him in the Lodge at nine a.m. and walking to the Exam Schools together.

Although I try to ease the tension in my neck as I have a quick last look through my notes, the knot in my stomach is back again. Poor Immy, she has eight three-hour papers and was in tears earlier, convinced she’s going to fail. Three years of work depend on the next week or so and I know she wants to do well, for her parents’ sake as much as her own.

I wonder if I should call round with a nightcap? Or is she trying to get some rest? Should I? One drink won’t hurt, will it?

Just
as I open the closet to retrieve the bottle of Chase I salted away, I hear her knock at my door.

Vodka in my hand, I open the door and almost drop the bottle.


Buona sera
, Lauren. You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble for me.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

For
a second or two, I consider slamming the door in Valentina’s face but I suspect she’d love that and I also have a compulsion to know why she’s here, the same one that makes you watch car crashes on YouTube.

‘What do you want?’ I snap.

She smiles. ‘What do I want? I think the question is what do
you
want, Lauren? However, I am happy to discuss my proposition out here if you don’t mind everyone hearing.’

There’s only Immy up here and an English Lit student who’s invariably stoned, I could tell her, but the heaviness in the pit of my stomach makes me less keen to throw her out.

‘What proposition?’

‘Really, I think it would be better if you invited me inside. Trust me.’

‘You have one minute.’

I open the door and stand back. She walks in, her heels click-clacking on the boards. She glances around the room, wrinkling her nose like the place has a bad smell – but the only nasty scent in here right now is Valentina’s toxic jealousy.

‘Forgive
me if I don’t offer you a drink after all,’ I say, after I’ve shut the door.

She looks at the bottle I left on the cupboard like it’s belladonna. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t drink vodka unless it’s Russian and served with caviar.’

‘Hey, I’m fresh out of caviar. Now what do you want? I assume you’re not here to wish me good luck with my exams.’

‘Actually, darling, I do wish you luck. You and Alexander. I understand he has more papers tomorrow?’

I snort in a very undignified manner, but my show of bravado still doesn’t stop me from feeling like someone switched on a blender inside my stomach.

‘Yes, we both have exams first thing so would you mind getting to the point of your visit so I can throw you out of my room?’

She looks at me pityingly and tsks. ‘That is so rude, Lauren, when I’ve flown all this way to make you a proposition.’

‘If it’s about Alexander, he made his feelings perfectly plain to you at Falconbury. How is the ankle by the way?’

‘I heal very quickly, and it is about Alexander so I would not be so eager to dismiss me.’

‘I dismissed you the first time I saw you.’ I make as if to move to the door. ‘Now, I think your minute is up. Shall I show you back to the Lodge or can you find your own way?’

Her smile dies and her eyes glitter. ‘I have tried to be
nice and polite but I can see that I need to be direct. That should suit you, Lauren, being an American. I have come to tell you that I have decided that it is time I shared with the world the treatment I have suffered at the hands of Alexander Hunt.’

I’m stunned momentarily. ‘Excuse me, what exactly do you mean?’ I ask icily.

She assumes a hangdog look. ‘I have tried to be brave and rise above it all, but people should know how damaged Alexander really is. Other women should be warned about his moods and his shameful treatment of me, the way he used me for sex …’

‘And you think anybody’s going to be interested in that?’ I bluff, knowing how much the British press seem to lap up any kind of scandal, especially about Oxbridge.

She pouts. ‘Yes, I do. I can spice up the details – there’s plenty you don’t know about, darling – and I shall enjoy sharing that story in the newspapers and posting the sex video to the online gossip sites. The best thing is that Alexander will absolutely hate it, and so will your lovely parents, of course,’ she says, clearly very pleased with herself.

The blender in my gut speeds up to max. I am so angry I’m finding it hard to respond. ‘You wouldn’t dare, and you’d do as much, if not more, damage to your own reputation. Now get out and leave the two of us in peace.’

She studies her talons and smirks. ‘Oh, it won’t do
me
any harm. I’m doing it for your own good too, Lauren. Everyone – including your parents and future employers – will see how you’ve been duped by Alexander; although sometimes I wonder if it is the other way around, that
you
have lured him into
your
bed. Rupert has told me that you would do anything to be Lady Falconbury and that you even invited your parents over so they could check the place out. While Alexander was at his most vulnerable, you inveigled your way into his life again. I also know what you did to Emma …’

‘Right, that’s it; I’m not going to listen to any more of this. You can get out of here now or I’ll call the porters and have you thrown out. I don’t know how you got past them anyway.’ I step towards the door. ‘Go on, out!’

She sighs. ‘As you wish, but remember that you were the one who threw away the chance to save Alexander and your family from the embarrassment.’

I pause and instantly regret it, as she’s clearly spotted a chink in my armour.

‘And remember that I came here to offer you an alternative to having the story of my life and yours all over the gossip magazines.’

‘Go on,’ I snap impatiently.

She tsks again. ‘I would be a little more polite, considering I’m offering you a way out. You see, Lauren, I have a friend – yes, a real friend – who at this moment is just waiting for me to call him and say that I want my
story to go live in several magazines – and I don’t mean Forbes. And of course the sex clip will probably go viral once it hits the blog sites.’

I still somehow manage to stand my ground. ‘If you dare, I’ll sue and Alexander will sue.’

‘I’m sure you may do that but it will be too late.’

‘No decent magazine or site will run the story. They’d be bankrupted.’

‘Perhaps not here in the UK or America, but in Italy? In Europe? They are not so squeamish … and as you know, nothing can prevent it going viral. I don’t think Alexander would enjoy his face – and his dick – being splashed all over the newspapers and the internet. It would certainly ruin his career.’ She laughs. ‘I also don’t think your father and mother will relish your name being associated with such a sordid story either. That kind of mud sticks and can damage a reputation … Of course, all of this can stop now if you do just one little thing.’

I know I shouldn’t be listening to any more of this but I can’t help myself. I have to know the worst. ‘How? What exactly is this one “little” thing”? I didn’t think even you would stoop to blackmail,’ I sneer, more frightened than I want to let on.

She pouts. ‘Blackmail is a very serious accusation and I’m hurt you’d even think I would be capable of that. What I’m merely suggesting, as compensation for my hurt and distress, is that you tell Alexander – tonight – that you’re ending things. It’s the end of term
soon, anyway; things would be over between you then, so it’s only a matter of “when” not “if”.’

‘If things are ending between us anyway, why would you go to all this trouble to split us up?’

‘Call it a little gentle nudge in the right direction, just in case you were thinking of continuing the relationship beyond the term. Call it my insurance policy in case you have really managed to work your way under Alexander’s skin.’

I am furious, but for once the vile creature I thought could never hurt me again seems to have come up with a plan that genuinely could harm us. I have only to picture my parents’ faces if they saw any of this, never mind the grief it would give Alexander, to know I can’t dismiss her threats out of hand.

She shrugs. ‘OK. I should have known you would be stubborn, but think of this when you open up the papers in a few days and see yourself on some sordid gossip site. When your mother is crying down the phone and your father is a laughing stock. Think of how you sneered at me when Alexander is forced to resign from the army.’ She laughs. ‘Think of that when he blames you for destroying his career which, of course, is the only thing he truly loves.’

I don’t speak. I don’t even move because the room seems to be spinning around. I grab the edge of the bookcase for support and wonder if I’m about to wake up from some horrible nightmare.

Yet it’s not a nightmare, though just as surreal. Val
entina has turned up here and threatened to release that sex video and sell her trashy tale to a sleazy Eurotrash tabloid. Even if my name is linked to the story, even if my father is mentioned, I could live with that – but the consequences for Alexander could be disastrous. Valentina’s right about that much: it’s very unlikely he could keep his job after such a public humiliation.

‘You … are … a … witch.’ My voice is a whisper.

She looks at me, one eyebrow arched in enquiry. ‘Second thoughts?’

‘Don’t do this,’ I say, my mind racing ahead of my mouth, my thoughts swirling like a leaf caught in a whirlpool. ‘You can’t do this …’

‘I can and I will unless you leave Alexander.’

‘I … I … How do I know you won’t publish this “story” and release the video anyway?’

‘You don’t, but why would I? If you do as I say and leave him, that’s all I want. Maybe then he will understand how little you truly care for him and start to realize who really does.’

‘You are quite something, Valentina,’ I say bitterly, thinking I’ve never loathed anyone so much in my life.

She smiles. ‘It felt so easy to dismiss me, didn’t it? Well, you were wrong. So,’ she pauses, ‘I take it that you will do as I ask?’

I hesitate, hating what I’m about to do but feeling it’s my only option. I nod.

She smiles. ‘Then I will tell my friend not to release
the story, but I will need evidence you aren’t seeing Alexander. Starting with you telling him you won’t be meeting him to walk to your exams tomorrow.’

I frown. ‘How can you possibly know that?’ I ask.

‘I have my ways,’ she says, clearly delighted with my confusion. ‘You will tell him you don’t want to see him and you’re going alone.’

‘But …’

‘Nothing. I will know what happens.’

‘You mean Rupert will be watching? I see, he’s still your little helper and spy, is he? Or is there more to it than that?’

Valentina pulls a face. ‘Think what you like but, yes, of course, Rupert is happy to help anyone who has Alexander’s best interests at heart.’

‘Best interests! My God, the pair of you, you are loathsome.’

‘I like to think so. Now I must go. I am meeting a friend for dinner at Le Manoir. Have a nice evening.’ And she turns on her heel with a flick of her long hair.

I watch her go, feeling like I’ve been poked with a cattle prod. I hear her heels tip-tapping down the staircase, I see her sweep out of the archway and around the quad before disappearing into the Lodge.

I sit on my bed and take a few deep calming breaths. I sit there for quite some time, thinking. Desperately trying to come up with an alternative. After a while, with a heavy heart, I pick up the phone and dial.

The
next morning, Immy’s face is almost as white as her blouse. She fans herself with the black cap we’re supposed to wear en route to exams. ‘And this thing makes me look like an extra from the
The Tudors
. Subfusc is the most ridiculous thing ever invented.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I keep checking my phone, half expecting a message from The Witch or her Henchman, saying: ‘We’re watching you.’ And half hoping for a message somehow telling me everything is going to be all right.

‘Aren’t we supposed to be meeting Alexander in the Lodge?’

I shove my phone to the bottom of my bag. ‘He decided to make his own way.’

‘Really? You look awful by the way. You OK?’

‘I didn’t get much sleep,’ I shrug. There is no way on earth I am going to burden Immy with my problems today, or any day until she’s finished her Finals.

‘Me neither, but at least you only have three exams. I’ve got eight.’ And with that, Immy’s colour goes again so I grab her arm and manage a weak smile.

‘Come on, let’s go.’

In the end, we made it to the Exam Schools with a couple of minutes to spare. I don’t mind arriving at the last minute as it gives me less chance of bumping into Alexander. Now I scan the crowds anxiously, looking for him, but fortunately there’s no sign. Rupert, however, is there, staring at me from the other side of the queue like I’m the spawn of the Devil but, mercifully,
keeping his distance. Suddenly, we’re called in and everyone surges forward to the stairs. Immy mouths ‘Good luck,’ but then one of her geographer friends grabs her arm and sweeps her off.

I’m one of the last to ascend the stairs that lead to my exam room. Every step feels leaden and I can’t help glancing behind me for a last glimpse of the street, half expecting Valentina to be there, but of course there are only the stragglers running towards the doors.

By twelve-thirty, the first two of my short papers are over, and I wander out of the Exam Schools with a throbbing head and a tongue as dry as Death Valley. While Immy has only finished her first paper by now, I’m more than halfway through. I should be filled with a sense of relief, but instead I feel numb. I have no idea how I did; I answered all the questions; I think I did OK … and considering the circumstances, OK is pretty amazing.

It’s still so damn stuffy, the thick white clouds holding in the afternoon heat. I take off my gown and stuff the ribbon that was around my neck into my bag. I’ve already taken off the thigh-highs in the bathroom at the Exam Schools but I long to go back to college and put on my cut-offs and tank top. Except I can’t go back, not yet, because I know that if I go now, he’ll be waiting outside my room. I don’t want to see him until this evening, when he will have finished his exams.

I trudge back along the street, dreading what I will see when I pull out my phone, the missed calls and the texts.

Out
of the blue, I hear someone calling my name, a female voice. ‘Lauren!’ I can’t see who it is but then suddenly there’s a hand on my arm.

‘Letty!’ I exclaim, shocked, but oh so pleased to see her.

She looks at me, her expression almost as pained as mine, and her eyes dark. ‘I’ve been looking out for you everywhere. We really need to talk.’

I look at her, not knowing how to take her sudden arrival. ‘I’m so sorry, Letty, I didn’t know where to turn. I shouldn’t have thrown this on you.’ Seeing how agitated her usually composed face is, I regret my cry for help last night. What on earth did I think it would achieve?

‘You’ve done exactly the right thing,’ she reassures me, seeing my uncertainty. ‘I’m shocked, I must admit – I never thought my son would sink to such depths, and I wish he hadn’t – but I’m glad you called me. Come on, let’s go somewhere quiet. I’ve lots to tell you. It’s sorted.’

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