4
It took us ten minutes to walk from St. Meril’s to The Polish Café. The cool local haunt for students. There was a real buzz in the air.
The café was situated in a prime spot on the main Abingdon Road. It looked small and narrow from the busy street. Flanking it on one side was a tiny second-hand bookshop. Marler’s was about ready to burst and spew out books onto the street. A sparse, white-walled art gallery of no name hugged the other side of the café. It displayed framed black and white photographs of Oxford, London and Tokyo cityscapes.
Once inside, the café stretched back in a series of three long adjoining rooms. It was so hot inside that the café windows were steamed up. The determined rain attacked the large front window pane. It wasn’t yet ready to relinquish us to the warm shelter of the café’s interior.
Numerous dark wooden tables and mismatched chairs filled every available space, and overflowed with rowdy students. Each table boasted a different blue-patterned bowl, filled with generous chunks of brown sugar and white sugar.
Not a single newbie Fresher in sight. I loved it already. I was starting to think that Freshers were like annoying tourists. They only ever travelled in groups. They always huddled together wearing bright coloured backpacks. So even if I was officially a first year, I didn’t want to be identified as one.
For now, I wouldn’t think about the anonymous text message. Nor the latest black-out, nor the boy who always protected me. Nor Irene, nor the obnoxious guy with the blue eyes. At least not yet. The list of things to avoid thinking about was growing by the day. A distraction was what I needed.
A long mahogany bar wrapped itself around one side of the first room. Extra strong Polish Finezja coffees were being thrown together by a stocky, grey-haired gentleman. He wore all black except for a crisp white apron. He was joking with his customers. Pippa told me this was the owner, Mr Weinskowski, who was ‘a sweetie’.
She motioned me forward to order my lunch, then waved over to a small group of students. Pippa explained how last year she’d deferred her place at St. Meril’s for twelve months. She was working with her Aunt who was an Educational Psychologist, when she’d met and moved in with this older group of students.
They were crowded around two square tables pushed together. An array of different types of coffee littered the surface. We paid for our Zapiekanki pizzas. Then we made our way over to join the lively group, squeezing through the mass of animated bodies. They shuffled up to make room for us around the tables.
A red-haired girl with kind eyes introduced herself as Susie. She hopped onto her boyfriend’s lap to free up a chair. Her boyfriend, Tom, a large guy, introduced himself. Then he winked at me and smiled as he put his arms around her. She kissed him on the nose.
Pippa squeezed in next to me. She introduced me to a rugged-looking guy on my right named, Will. Compared to the others, he looked very physically fit. As if he went rock climbing, rowing and played rugby all on the same day. He exuded a raw, positive energy. I thought he might be a useful person to know, in case I ever wanted to… climb rocks.
“Been running with bricks in your backpack again, Will?” Pippa teased him. She took off her gilet and hooked it over the back of the battered chair.
“Say the word, Pips and you can come with me. Any time; day or night.” Will grinned at her.
Pippa groaned. “Thrilling as that sounds, William, it takes a lot more than a backpack full of bricks to keep me entertained.” She plucked at her mushroom pizza.
“Emily, how about you? Do you run?” Will looked me over. “You look toned.” His dirty-blond hair fell forwards into his blue eyes. He swept it back.
I shifted in my seat, shrinking from his sweeping gaze. “I’ll stick to my adrenaline-fuelled bike rides, thanks.”
His shoulders sagged a fraction. With his eyes downcast he said, “Well the offer’s there if you ever want to take it up a notch fitness-wise. I’m a member of the University running club. New members are always welcome. Especially girls.” He gave me a half smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I tried to steer the conversation away from macho, sports talk. “So you guys all live together?”
“Yeah. It’s a flea pit of a place. But it’s ours,” Tom said.
“Are you on the same course as well?” I asked as I watched Will’s eyes flicker back to Pippa.
Susie laughed. “No. I doubt they’d let Tom and Will into my faculty building. Security would man-handle them out. Unless they were there for the clinical trials, of course. We’re always looking for more cannon fodder to experiment on. I’m in my second year of Medicine.” She wrapped her arms tighter around Tom’s neck. He went to bite her ear.
“Will’s in his second year of a Physics degree. So none of us ever know what he’s talking about. Tom’s studying how to bang people up on an international scale. Sorry, International Law. He starts his internship in New York soon. Farger and Fitzgerald Law firm.” She raised her eyebrows as if that should mean something. Tom looked pleased with himself.
Was that an impressive achievement for a law student? I didn’t know. She mentioned Big Six. Smiling, I hoped to bluff my way past my ignorance. My best option was to keep quiet so that they didn’t see how clueless I was. Working in the US sounded pretty cool though.
I reminded myself to apply for jobs in The Big Apple when the time came. Floating off into a daydream, I imagined I’d live in a fashionable part of Brooklyn.
In no time, I’d be surrounded by talented musicians who partied hard by night. Consumed by their wild lifestyle, perhaps I’d even become part of their band.
Not that, in reality, I actually played any musical instrument. Nor sang. Nor wrote songs. In fact, I showed no musical talent whatsoever.
But I loved the idea of sampling other people’s life-styles. It was as if trying on new clothes in a shop dressing room. Some might fit. Others would be uncomfortable and not look good on me.
That was the beauty of daydreaming. It allowed me to jump into a new experience of success. Without me having to possess any of the pre-requisite talent, or invest years of hard toil. Glorious because of its lack of realism.
“You and Pips are on the same course then? Bad luck, Emily,” Will said. “You could always transfer onto a different course next term. Extenuating circumstances. Don’t lose hope.”
Pippa leaned over and punched him on the arm.
“Ooww. That hurt, Pips. What course is it anyway? Fight club?” Will rubbed his muscular arm in mock anguish. Then he rested it across the back of my chair.
Without a word, I sat forward conscious of my stiff position. I didn’t want to give Pippa the impression that I was encouraging Will.
As I watched them together, I tried to work out if they were flirting because they liked each other. Maybe it was a brother- sister type banter. I made a mental note to quiz Pippa later about it.
I wished I had someone to flirt with. Let’s face it, I needed the practise. But then, I already had enough to contend with, without factoring in hormones and guys. It would have been nice though.
Sighing, I thought about Ben in London, then dismissed the idea.
Pippa had launched into the story of our humiliating start to the course. As I stood to take off my jacket, the noise level in the café lulled. Then I recognised distinctive gravelly laughter.
I’d last heard it coming from the passenger seat in the sports car. Seb. My stomach flipped. Was the driver with him?
My body shivered at the thought.
The laughter was coming from a long table at the far end of the room. I hadn’t even noticed it until then. I’d been distracted by all the noise, bustle and new surroundings.
The table was set apart from the rest of the café. A large group of students were sitting there, chatting and laughing; all absorbed with each other, none of them looking around.
I assumed it was Seb in the middle, entertaining the tight-knit group. I’d not been able to see him in the car, so I was intrigued as to what he looked like.
He wore a fitted black t-shirt. An expensive-looking blue and red scarf looped round his tanned neck. He was style-conscious, in the subtle way only the French and Italians can really carry off.
He had a laid back, lazy smile. It matched his overall demeanour of supreme confidence. He was speaking in rapid French.
Aware of the absence of a particular blue-eyed someone, I scanned their group to double-check. No. He wasn’t there. My stomach unknotted.
I sat back down next to Pippa and Will. The driver was a stranger, who I knew nothing about except for his attitude problem. He probably didn’t evennotice normal girls.
I smiled to myself at my own easy reference to normal. As Irene would say, “What is normal anyway?”
“Do you know who they are?” I nodded towards the group at the back of the room. The question needed to be asked. I couldn’t help myself.
“Well spotted, Emily. Nothing gets passed you, does it?” Will took a swig from his water bottle. “They are the G&T crowd. They don’t mingle with us ‘ordinary’ students. They are only slumming it in here because their private common room is being refurbished.”
“G&T? What are they? Hard-core party animals?” I tried to get a better look at them through all the bobbing heads.
“Much as I’d like to see that, no, that’s not what they’re about. They are called the ‘Gifted and Talented’. An elite within an elite. Strictly an invitation-only members club, I’m afraid. In case you fancied... you know, switching tables.”
“Is it an exclusive ‘Oxford’ thing?” I asked, taking a bite out of my pizza.
“No. Not only Oxford. Apparently there’s a world-wide network of superiority. Who knew, eh?” Will shifted in his seat. He appeared to be keeping his head down as he spoke. Interesting behaviour. What was he hiding?
“How many of them are there?” I probed further, warming to the theme and wanting to test Will’s boundaries.
“Don’t know. They don’t exactly publish their membership list. It’s all very discreet. They have people surrounding them making sure it’s kept that way.” His tone was ambiguous as if he was deciding how best to manage this situation.
“Really? Like bodyguards?” Pippa asked with a sudden fame-hungry look in her eyes.
“Kind of. More like an entourage,” Will answered coolly.
“What are they? Celebrities?” I tilted my head and watched for Will’s reaction. I’d never heard of anything like this. “I don’t recognise any of them.”
Will smirked. “No, they’re not celebrities. They won’t be appearing in celebrity gossip magazines any time soon. Not unless something has gone seriously wrong.” Will shrugged as if he suddenly found the whole subject boring.
“Okay, as fascinating as this is guys,” Pippa interrupted our flow. “Emily, we need to go. Behavioural Psychology starts in fifteen minutes. Let’s not be late again.” She hugged Susie, Tom and Will goodbye. Then she towed me through the crowds towards the door.
Hesitating, I glanced behind me at the mysterious group at the back of the room. At that moment, I saw Seb look up and our eyes locked. I inhaled sharply.
His dark eyes narrowed then crinkled as if he was about to laugh, then he coolly looked away. My heart sank. I’d been dismissed: dismissed as not being interesting enough. Not being beautiful enough. Not being elite enough.
What was it with these guys?
Tears threatened to start flowing; right in the middle of the overcrowded café. A moment later, a hot flush flared up in me as I realised I’d let my concentration slip. Again.
Damn it, I needed to work harder than this. Thankfully, Pippa pulled me through the café door and out into the abusive rain.
Sourness flooded my mouth as if I’d swallowed a rotten chunk of apple. But I had to be honest with myself, I’d wanted to see the blue-eyed stranger, Henry. Where was he? Who was he? Had he sent me the text?
Oh what was the point? I kept my thoughts to myself as we walked back through the water-logged college grounds. Pippa was busy chatting away, happy to have me listening.
He was probably cruising around in his fancy sports car, with a skinny, beautiful model sat next to him. Good luck to him. I told myself that I didn’t care. He wasn’t that special anyway.
Next, I tried to convince myself that he probably wasn’t even as good-looking as I remembered. And maybe he wasn’t nice to be with. No, he was rude.
“Emily?” Pippa was staring at me, waiting for my response to some unheard question.
“Sorry.” I shook my head. “Say again.”
“It’s okay. This is our room.”
We made our way up the central stairs to the back row of the dusty lecture theatre. We settled into a lecture on Behavioural Psychology. I inwardly smiled when I realised my long hours of reading over the summer had prepared me well for this module.
Whilst the Professor spoke about operant conditioning and Pavlov’s salivary research, my mind wandered to the group of runners and the blue-eyed stranger.
Did he treat all girls the same way? Or had he reacted to my venting? Had I humiliated him in front of his friend, Seb?
Oh, Paranoia, I was wondering when you’d make another appearance.
Perhaps embarrassment would explain his brusque attitude towards me. Or maybe he was a snob who didn’t interact with anyone outside his social clique? That would account for the snide reference to my bike. But what did it mean if he’d sent me the text? Why the sudden change of heart? Perhaps he didn’t want to be seen talking to me, but the guilt forced him to act. Fabulous.
What was my next move? Would he expect me to phone the number? What would he do if I didn’t respond to him at all? That might be a more interesting avenue to pursue. It would tell me more about him. A way in, to test his boundaries. But I preferred action to waiting around.
So I sent a reply text. As I still didn’t know who the original was from, I wrote:
“Thanx 4 ur text & apology. I’m fine. C u soon. Emily.”
When I looked at my watch, I was surprised to find it was four o’clock. I’d spent most of the lecture lost in reflection about him. Now it was over. Digging my fingernails into my palms, I raced out of the room. I told myself to get a grip.
Pippa caught up with me in the corridor. “Wow, Emily. What’s wrong? I didn’t know you could move so fast.”
“Nothing personal.” I smiled at my new friend.
“Listen, Susie and I are going out tonight. Why don’t you come with us? We can have a girls’ night.”
“Where are you going?” Although I wasn’t convinced Uncle Spencer would agree to me going out mid-week, I wanted her to think that I could if I wanted.
She arched her blond eyebrows. “The Napier Club.” Her face broke into a beaming smile.
“Is that good?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it?” She laughed. “You’ll see, Emily. Here’s my number. Text me your address and we’ll pick you up on the way. Nine o’clock. See you later.” She waved as she strolled away.