‘Gross,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘The very last thing I want to picture.’
David didn’t like to point out that she hardly needed to imagine. After attending so many school dances and birthday parties together over the years, there had, inevitably, been a drunken fumble during a particularly hot and heavy weekend in the Scottish Highlands in the summer before Oxford. But then came the many temptations of Freshers’ Week and beyond, and somehow over that first year they had slipped into a much more solid relationship. Juliet was his cheerleader, confidante and, well, best friend – and he tried to be the same for her. It made more sense, especially now they were both poised to step out into the big wide world.
/> ‘I was talking about Karen, actually,’ continued Juliet, lighting up a Silk Cut and blowing the blue smoke at the ceiling. ‘You know, Amy’s friend.’
‘Obviously I know who Karen is,’ said David, reaching forward and taking Juliet’s cigarette for a drag, then handing it back. ‘What do you mean about being stuck with her?’
‘She’s gone to the ball as Max’s date.’
‘What’s wrong with that? I mean, apart from having a lot of sympathy for the poor girl.’
‘Men,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You walk through life with your eyes closed.’
‘Huh?’
‘Oh come on, think a few steps ahead. Max is either going to try and grope her or he’s going to spot some other air-headed filly and disappear. Then she’ll be wandering around lost, and seeing as Amy’s insisting on playing the working-class martyr, we’ll be expected to entertain her all bloody night.’
‘I don’t get why that’s such a problem. Karen’s nice enough, isn’t she?’
Juliet sighed theatrically. ‘It’s not who she is. She’s fine on a night out to the Bear or wherever, but this is the night, David. Our last night in Oxford, the big send-off. Don’t you want it to be perfect?’
David pulled a face. The truth was, he was torn about the ball. Juliet had been right earlier about being in the bubble. Yes, they were friends with people like Amy and Karen, but almost everyone else they spent time with was from exactly the same background as them: private school, skiing holidays, dogs and horses. University was supposed to expand your horizons, but Oxford had a funny way of narrowing them, underlining that sense of privilege and expectation. And while David wanted desperately to escape from that trap, to leave Oxford, to get to London, spread his wings and find his own path, at the same time he was scared to leave the bubble. It was all he’d ever known.
‘It’s going to be like all the other balls, Jules,’ he said. ‘A load of nobs in loud waistcoats getting pissed and boasting about how their daddy’s house is a tiny bit bigger than your daddy’s house.’
‘No,’ said Juliet firmly. ‘It’s going to be the best night ever. It’s the end of an era; let’s see it out in style, okay?’
David smiled and leaned across to kiss her. ‘You’re right,’ he said. He slipped a throwaway camera into his pocket, deciding that he would try and take some snaps for posterity. This was his last big night at Oxford, and he should try and make it count.
Chapter 20
David looked at his watch, carefully concealing the gesture below the table. Ten thirty: God. The night was passing them by. For all his ambivalence about the ball, now that he was here, David was itching to get out there and have fun. Instead he was stuck here eating poached salmon and drinking warm white wine in some terrible parody of a restaurant. ‘Dining’ they called it, selling it as a VIP ticket for the ball, but despite the floral centrepiece and the candelabra, there was no disguising the low-rent wedding vibe. Or the dull conversation.
‘You with us, darling?’
David looked up at Annabel and gave her a weak smile. ‘Sorry, miles away.’
Annabel raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see that, David,’ she said under her breath, then, more loudly: ‘Bruce was just asking about your father’s yacht.’
‘Hardly a yacht,’ said David. ‘One of those wooden things, a Devon yawl, two little sails, or is it three? Very big on the purity of being one with the winds and the tides, my father. He’s always banging on about how boats should be sailed, not moored.’
‘Quite right,’ said Bruce, fiddling with his cufflinks. ‘Will you be at Cowes this year?’
David could already feel himself drifting off, but forced himself to concentrate. He and Annabel had already had one hissed argument by the bar, and he didn’t think he could muster the energy for another, not tonight.
‘Doubt it,’ he said. ‘In fact, I rather hope not. I’m starting at Harvey and Keyne next month, so I’m hoping to be in the thick of it by then.’
‘H and K, huh?’ said Bruce appreciatively. ‘Well, don’t blame you. Imagine you’ll be up with the Tokyo markets and whatnot, hmm?’
‘Yes, that’s the plan.’
David looked over at Annabel and was rewarded with a wide smile. Clearly the correct answer. Daddy would approve. He stole a glance past her shoulder towards the door of the marquee. In the early dark, illuminated by the red and green stage lights, he could see people weaving about, laughing, shouting, shuffling side to side in awkward dance moves.
‘Office is off Cheapside, isn’t it?’ said Camilla, Bruce’s slightly frumpy girlfriend. ‘I’m starting at PNH across the road in September. We should meet for lunch. Have you got somewhere to live in London yet? I hear it’s frightfully expensive in the centre now.’
David was about to reply when Annabel leaned in and squeezed his hand.
‘We have a flat on Cadogan Square. My brother has the ground floor, but he’s in Hong Kong most of the time.’