‘Seriously, it’s fine,’ protested Edward. ‘I was just about to turn in.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Bradders, taking a drag of his cigarette. ‘The night is young and we have a bootful of champagne. Who needs Pembroke?’ he roared.
Two of the young men scooped Edward into a chair lift, and as they started running down the street with him, Georgia felt a wave of disappointment so strong it made her lose her breath.
‘Ride with us,’ shouted the girl called Julia, and Georgia felt she had no option but to hop in the car for the thirty-second journey to Circus Street. They beeped Edward and Bradders as they zoomed past them, Georgia giving them a half-hearted thumbs-up sign.
By the time they had parked the car, Edward had caught up with them.
‘Hijacked. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, pasting on her widest smile.
‘We can stay for five minutes and then leave.’
‘We can stay as long as you like,’ she replied, not knowing if he was just being polite and really wanted to be with his friends.
They stepped inside the house, which was heaving with people, some wearing ball gowns and black tie, others in more casual attire. Loud jazz was playing in the background, smoke obscured couples kissing in dark corners.
‘Who are these people?’ whispered Georgia.
‘Boys I knew from school. They’re all right usually. I just think everyone is determined to go out with one last blast before we graduate and settle down to responsibility.’
‘I think I owe you a drink,’ said Georgia, feeling nervous.
‘I’m sure there’s a supply of something horrible and home-brewed in the kitchen. Let’s go and find it.’
And then he took her hand. This time she knew it was for real, as his fingers knitted between hers, and she felt a heady blend of nerves and excitement course around her.
There was indeed home brew in the kitchen, and it was not good. Edward wondered if it was potato liquor, and they both decided they were not going to risk drinking it. Edward went to ask Bradders about the stash of champagne in the car boot whilst Georgia nipped to the loo. She looked in the tiny mirror in the bathroom under the stairs and tried to rearrange her hair. Her rouge and lipstick were still in her handbag on the bus, so she pinched her cheeks to try and give them some colour.
When she emerged, it felt as if she was stepping out of the house on a date. Yes, she had preferred it when it was just the two of them. Walking around the streets of Oxford had been extraordinary and magical, and yet it had been warm and familiar, as if she were playing out her own version of Estella’s night-in-Paris story she had heard so many times before.
But the party fizzed with another
, intimate sort of promise, and the thought of retreating to a dark corner with Edward was one that thrilled her.
‘How on earth did you get Edward out on a Saturday night two weeks before Finals?’
Georgia turned and saw Julia inches away from her holding a cigarette.
‘Why? Where should he be?’
‘He’s been locked away for the last month revising, although I’ve no idea why. He’s going to walk a first and it’s not as if it matters. They’re keeping the top seat at the family bank warm for him even if he gets a gentleman’s degree.’
She laughed, her lips, stained purple by red wine, making her teeth look bright white and slightly frightening in the dark.
‘I haven’t seen you before. Which college are you at?’
‘I’m not.’
‘The secretarial college?’ she asked with faint disapproval.
‘I live in London.’
‘So what are you doing in Oxford?’
‘A long story.’ Georgia grinned. ‘I’m en route somewhere and Edward’s helping me get there.’