Oxford Blood (21 page)

“No I haven’t,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light.
She’d managed not to think about the exam over the holidays, but the nerves
were now creeping in.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not as if they count for
much anyway,” Olamide said. Harriet noticed that she didn’t comment on how much
work she’d done and shortly afterwards, Olamide made her excuses, clearly
heading for the library.

The next evening, Tom arrived. He offered little explanation
of where he had been or what he had done over the holidays. They cooked a meal
together and then quickly went to bed.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. “Let me show you how much.”
With that, she tilted her head back, exposing her delicate veins.

Tom shook his head, clearly fighting an internal battle.

“I want to, I swear. It feels so wrong that I’ve let George
do it but never you. I want to feel that connection.”

Tom was still making feeble protests as she drew his head
down. She stroked his hair, holding him in place and finally, he could take no
more and his fangs pierced her skin. Harriet gave a little cry and then settled
down to the sensation and the feeling of closeness. After what felt like a
blissful eternity but could only have been a few moments, Tom raised his head
and kissed her passionately.

“Now is it my turn?” she asked coquettishly. “If this blood
bond really means so much, let me taste yours.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t want to seem selfish,” Tom said
slowly. “I’d love to feed you in that way. But I’m not George. When we do it, I
want us to have thought it through. I want it to mean something. Besides, I
want George’s blood to have faded before I give you mine. I can’t risk you
having too much.”

Harriet wanted to argue, but supposed he knew best. After
George and her mother’s scheming, at least his honesty was refreshing.
Admitting defeat she took a few spoonfuls of her iron tonic instead, then
snuggled up to Tom and fell asleep.

***

That week couldn’t have been more different from the endless
parties of fresher’s week. Whilst everyone was keen to go for a quiet drink and
catch up after the holidays, nights out and wild parties were quite definitely
off the cards until collections were over. The promise of a toga bop on
Saturday was the only thing keeping them sustained.

Harriet felt decidedly nervous as she went into the dining
hall early on Friday morning to take the exam. It was rather surreal to see the
place she associated with cheerful mealtimes silent and full of worried looking
people. The exam was to last three hours. The thought of it made her feel
exhausted.

In the end, it wasn’t so bad. The combination of genuine
interest, a few days of focussed revision and George’s ever-helpful memories
meant that questions on the Civil War went smoothly, even if it took all her
self-control not to mention vampires or write offensive things about Prince
Rupert’s prowess as a commander. Her answers on the Dissolution of the
Monasteries and factions at the court of Elizabeth I were less polished, but
probably passable.

Stepping out of the hall and into cloisters, she felt as
though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“Phew, that was grim,” said Caroline, falling into place
beside her. “How was it for you?”

“Oh alright I suppose. Could have been better, could have
been worse. It’s over now at least.”

“I’ll drink to that. I’m so glad I picked History. Ben’s
back in this afternoon for another law exam and I think the PPE-ists have that
and then a third tomorrow morning.”

“No wonder people say History’s a dosser’s subject,” Harriet
said, laughing. She couldn’t imagine having to go back in for another round.

“Speaking of PPE-ists, where’s Tom? I know he’s not the
keenest student, but surely even he isn’t going to miss collections?”

Harriet wasn’t actually sure whether the college permitted
the vampires to miss out on collections all together or whether they made
special nighttime arrangements. “Oh, he’s dyslexic so he takes the exam by
himself in a different room and gets extra time,” she said, with a sudden flash
of inspiration. Someone had mentioned that that was what they were doing.

“Fair enough,” said Caroline. “Now, what would you say to
brunch at the Grand Cafe? Maybe with a glass of champagne?”

***

The following night, once everyone had finished their
collections, it was time for the first bop of term. The toga theme meant that
it was easier than most, requiring no shopping, just creative use of the bed
sheets. As usual, they gathered in Josh’s room. Harriet wondered whether to ask
if she could invite Tom to the pre-party, but thought that might just push Josh
too far. Tom was having his own gathering of his second year friends anyway, so
they agreed to convene at the bop itself.

Almost everyone had made an effort to dress up. There were
copies of the new edition of the college’s gossip magazine, The Outhouse,
detailing all the scandal of the last week of the previous term. Harriet wasn’t
sure whether to be pleased or embarrassed that she and Tom had got a rather
raunchy mention, as had Ben and Caroline.

She a couple of glasses of wine and danced wildly with her
group and slowly and closely with Tom, remembering how she’d tried to dance
with him at her first bop, and enjoying the thought of how well things had
progressed since. Katie was staring at them furiously, but didn’t say anything.

Josh wasn’t dancing with anyone. He looked handsome in the
toga, the white cloth setting off his olive skin. Harriet found the tan rather
cheering after the vampires’ eternal pallor. Harriet was slightly surprised
when he asked her to dance whilst Tom was off talking to some of his second
year friends. Although they’d been spending a lot of time together over the
preceding weeks, he’d been rather reticent with her. The first song was Summer
of 69, and they basically just jumped around whilst holding hands, singing
along to the chorus and laughing. Harriet was feeling happier than she had in
weeks and felt a rush of affection towards him. As the song continued however,
Josh pulled her in closer and slipped his arm around her waist. At first
Harriet, lost in the music and the moment, danced against him and didn’t
complain. When the song finished, she tried to pull away to go to the bar, but
he kept hold of her hands.

“Come on, one more dance. I hardly see you nowadays.”

Harriet wasn’t in the mood for this. “Josh, no. We’re having
fun. It was nice to dance with you, but I can’t cope with the way you’ve got to
either hit on me or cause a scene every time we spend time together.”

Josh was visibly shocked. “Bloody hell Harriet, I think all
the attention you’ve been getting has gone to your head. You don’t have to
worry. I don’t fancy you, okay.”

Harriet was taken aback. “But you’re always trying to spend
time with me alone. And you’re so hostile towards Tom and so ridiculously
over-protective of me.”

“It’s called being a good friend,” Josh said, shaking his
head. “I’m worried about those posh bastards you insist on hanging around with
and maybe it makes me a bit over-protective, but you’re just not my type. If
you really want to know, there’s someone else I’ve got my eye on.”

“Oh God, Josh, I’m so sorry,” Harriet said sheepishly,
turning red and feeling unable to look him in the eye. “I’m not the sort of
arrogant bitch who thinks she’s so gorgeous and special that everyone’s in love
with her, I swear.”

Josh nodded and walked off to speak to a group of music students.
She didn’t see him again all night. For a while she just stood there, feeling
horribly embarrassed about the misunderstanding. After a while however, she
found Tom again and they danced more romantically than ever, her shame fading
with every step.

The party finished at two, but Tom issued an open invitation
to his room for more drinks and music. The large sitting room area was almost
filled to capacity, and the noise of the party could be heard all over the
quad. Harriet wondered again why his parties never got broken up – did he use
mind control on the college authorities or simply have some agreement with
them? By the time the last guests were leaving, it was close to dawn and Tom
had to get into his coffin. Harriet felt disappointed. All the close dancing
they’d done at the party had made her horny and she’d wanted to curl up in bed
with Tom. She briefly considered suggesting that she joined him in his coffin,
but wimped out before the words were out of her mouth.

***

The term progressed smoothly. Harriet had been bracing
herself for another dead vampire or an attack by George, but nothing happened.
She even avoided any outbursts from Katie. Feeling that she wasn’t missing much
if she didn’t see a lot of the cold gloomy days, she began to follow a timetable
not unlike Tom’s, getting up in the late afternoon and going to bed in the
early hours.

She attended the Union more and more and spoke to some
senior people about the possibility of running for the committee. In the end,
she allowed Harry to sway her into joining the same side, or slate, as him.
Their Presidential candidate was Edward, one of last year’s Cavalier recruits,
very beautiful, very ruthless and very gay.

Catherine, the girl Harriet had met at the Cavalier’s
dinner, was running for Secretary on the other side. Harriet wished that she
was with her, as she seemed to be that rare thing - a genuinely nice
candidates. A beautiful redheaded music student called Julia led that slate.

“The slate the Cavaliers are supporting always wins,” she overheard
a student say whilst drinking in the union bar. “They’ve got the money, the
connections and the old members. It’s unfair really. Poor Julia is going to get
destroyed and she’s so lovely. She’d be by far the better president. I can’t
stand Edward.”

“The really depressing thing is that it’s no different in
the general election,” his companion said. “Everyone knows that their old
members call the shots – they fund the candidates, control the newspapers
enough to ensure that their favoured party gets all the best write ups, and God
knows what else.”

Hanging out with the slate, attending Union events and being
seen at the right parties and other occasions began to take up most of her time
and she became conscious that she was seeing less and less of her college
friends. This wasn’t entirely one sided however. Olamide was studying hard as
usual; Josh was endlessly practising and performing in a variety of choirs and
orchestras. Caroline had started acting and was often at rehearsals. Ben was
rowing, up early every morning to train with the college’s First Eight and to
try out for the university lightweight team. She saw more of him than the
others though, as being a wannabe Cavalier he was under the same sort of
pressure that she was to attend the best parties and talk to the right people.
She couldn’t imagine how little sleep he must be getting.

Before Harriet knew it, it was seventh week, the penultimate
week of term. The election was on the Thursday. That Sunday evening, Edward
gathered them altogether in a hired room in his college, Balliol.

“This is it. You’ve worked hard all term, so don’t let me
down now. If I hear any stories or any of you having a night in this week, I’m
going to be furious. Do the bare minimum on your essays – beg your tutor to postpone
the deadline to next week if you can. Be everywhere. I want you at the Law
Society, the Conservative Association, LGBT drinks, your colleges’ JCR
meetings, debating, Torpids, and the bloody Doctor Who society if you can find
out where it meets. I want you to go on to the pubs and the clubs. I want you
inviting all those ‘friends’ that you last spoke to in fresher’s week out for
coffee. I want you flirting with everyone; I don’t care how hideous they are.”

He paused for effect. “And then once you’ve got them under
your thumb, for heaven’s sake don’t be selfish – make sure they vote for me
too.”

***

Wednesday was the first day of Torpids, the major rowing
competition for Hilary term. Ben was rowing for the college and there had been
a longstanding plan for her to go and watch with Ola, Caroline and Josh. They
met at the porter’s lodge, excited by the prospect of the racing and the chance
to spend some quality time as a group.

It was a pleasant walk to the boathouses, following the
river along a path shaded by overhanging trees. There were swans and geese in
the water and squirrels in the trees and although the March afternoon was
chilly, it was bright and clear and seemed to suggest that summer was on the
way.

By the time they were halfway there, the usually tranquil
area was loud with the cheers and shouts of the spectators. They crossed a
bridge and the trees thinned out to reveal a wide towpath filled with
overexcited students in various colleges’ hoods and scarves. They walked almost
to the end of the path, where their college’s boathouse was already full of
people, and climbed the boathouse stairs to watch from the balcony. They each
bought a large glass of Pimm’s. The rowers were warming up on the path below,
their tight Lycra outfits showing off bodies honed by weeks of training.

“How lucky am I?” Caroline said, pointing down at Ben, who
was looking very fit as he stretched.

Harriet knew very little about rowing, but managed to follow
proceedings. At the start of each race, about ten boats lined up in single file
with a gap between each one. Once the race began, all boats set off at once,
the objective being to “bump” the boat in front, either by literally bumping
into it, or by overtaking it, at which point both boats would stop racing.

There were some spectacular collisions and some tense
moments. Ben’s boat started in third position in their race, behind Christ
Church and Oriel. When they began to row, the entire boathouse screamed, urging
them on. Oriel managed to stay a good way ahead at the front of the river,
making it neatly over the finishing line, but Ben’s boat bore down on Christ
Church and at the last minute managed to bump them. The boathouse erupted in
cheers.