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silent, first his voice, then hers.
    ‘… go down to the river and make one.’
    ‘That’s so cruel!’
    She smiled at me, looking embarrassed, and I was left wondering what she could possibly make down by the river and why she should think it was cruel of him to ask her. Her tone of voice had been curious too, both shocked and excited, which was yet more intriguing, but I had no time to dwell on her curious relationships.
    Giles was where I’d left him, standing against the wall with one foot propped up on the stonework, as nonchalant as I was nervous. Again he favoured me with a nod of appraisal, and this time seemed to be satisfied.
    ‘That’s better. Come on then.’
    He set off, talking casually as we made our way along the High and turned into Longwall Street, where he’d parked his car, a black Audi TT, which suggested that either he had money to burn or very generous parents. I didn’t want to come across as some awestruck little girl, so didn’t say anything and simply slid into the seat as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. He made no comment either, clearly not needing to show off, and didn’t speak again until we’d crossed Magdalen Bridge.
    ‘If you’re at Boniface your tutor must be John Etheridge?’
    I hadn’t known that Dr Etheridge was called John, and wouldn’t have dared address him by his Christian name, but did my best to answer casually. ‘That’s right.’
    ‘And let me guess, your essay is on the Victorian labour movement?’
    ‘It’s the development of socialist theory in the early twentieth century.’
    ‘Close. He’s good. You’ll do well with him.’
    He was impossibly smug, and I was determined to cut him down to size.
    ‘You’re a second year, aren’t you? The way you talk anybody would think you were a don.’
    He merely shrugged, put his foot down to catch the lights ahead of us and kept it there as we climbed the hill on Headington Road, passing the speed camera at nearly fifty with complete indifference. I was used to Ewan’s driving, so I wasn’t particularly bothered by the speed, but I was getting more and more determined to at least take the edge off his appalling arrogance. Unfortunately I’d missed my chance with his remark about my bum, and as we drove out of the city he was explaining how the internal politics of the Chamber worked, which I needed to know.
    By the time we reached Thame he was being so polite and friendly that I’d changed my mind, telling myself that anybody as good looking and privileged as him was bound to be a bit big headed and that I should swallow my pride and make the best of the situation. Although not to the extent of actually going to bed with him. Not that he’d made any effort to try it on, but I was pretty sure he was just biding his time.
    Les Couleurs was just outside the town, a small country house converted into a restaurant and hotel. The forecourt was packed with cars, mostly new and all expensive, while an elderly couple getting out of a vintage Daimler were also in evening dress, making me thankful Giles had taken the trouble to correct my outfit. Despite that, the doorman didn’t look at all happy as we approached, but it wasn’t me he objected to, but Giles.
    ‘I’m sorry, Mr Lancaster, but as has already been explained to you …’
    Giles interrupted, more amused than annoyed. ‘Don’t worry. We’re simply here for dinner.’
    ‘Very well then, sir.’
    We were shown into a dining room far smaller than I’d expected, with just four tables, although there was another, larger room visible across the hall. I wanted to know what had been going on, and asked as soon as we’d been seated and were alone.
    ‘What was that about?’
    ‘Nothing really. He thought I was trying to make a booking for my dining society.’
    ‘Which society is it? Are you banned or something?’
    ‘Only from central Oxford, but we’ve got a bit of a reputation, and everyone within twenty miles seems to know I’m a member.