‘I don’t know, sweetie, it’s really, really difficult to get in. People are
desperate
to work there, and you have to be so well connected it’s unreal. I’ll ask lovely Sue, my editor, but I can’t promise anything, particularly when you’ve got no experience.’
‘I don’t mind doing anything – I’ll man the phones.’
But Miranda just blinked at her.
‘I’m desperate, Miranda, I don’t have any money. I need a job.’
Her sister sipped at her Pinot Grigio and reached for another Silk Cut. ‘I can’t believe you had a row with Daddy,’ she said. ‘Darling, I wouldn’t dare! I don’t know what I’d do without my allowance. That’s another reason not to come near the mag, it pays an absolute pittance! All the girls have private incomes, it’s the only way we can manage.’
Allegra sighed. ‘Can you think of anything else?’ she asked at last. ‘I really need to find somewhere to live and something to do. I’m getting desperate.’
‘Look, darling, I’ll ask at work. Someone might need a nanny or something. And as it happens, I’ve got some girlfriends who are looking for a flatmate,’ Miranda said. ‘It’s just a box room so hardly anyone wants it. You might get it cheap if you offer to do the cleaning. Their Bulgarian girl’s just buggered off home.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Outer reaches of Chelsea. Far end of the King’s Road. Bit too close to the suburbs for me, but Susie seems to like it. I’ll ask her about it, if you like.’
As autumn began to swirl about the streets of Kensington and Chelsea, Allegra tried not to think about the beauty of Oxford when the new term began. This year she had been going to live out of college in a Victorian terrace house on Divinity Road with a couple of other students from her year. Imogen’s college offered accommodation in the second year, so she was moving into a set in Peckwater Quad, sharing a panelled sitting room with two tiny bedrooms leading off it. Allegra had been looking forward to experiencing digs instead of the slightly suffocating college buildings.
Fuck it, I don’t care
, she told herself firmly.
I’m going to have a great time. I mean, I’m in London, for God’s sake! If I can’t have a good time, here, I’m a miserable specimen of humanity
.
Her mother begged her to stay on in Onslow Square and live rent-free, but Allegra refused. Instead, she took the offer of Susie’s boxroom, which came at a cut-price rent as long as Allegra tackled the cleaning twice a week – something she soon discovered was a mammoth job as neither Susie nor her flatmate Coco so much as lifted a finger to wash a cup. But then, like her, they’d never had to.
Cleaning the bathroom and washing the dishes came as quite a shock to Allegra but she soon found it almost therapeutic. It felt as though she was earning her own way at last. Every dish cleaned was another step away from her failure at Oxford and towards independence.
Susie and Coco didn’t take much notice of Allegra: she was six years younger than they were and they were in the full flow of London life. They thought she was sweet-natured and pretty, and having a lodger-cum-cleaner with a title gave them a little added cachet, but apart from that, they left her alone. For the first time in a long while, Allegra was truly lonely. She kept getting invitations to parties in Oxford with people who were still there, and couldn’t bring herself to accept. It was just too painful.
So she whiled her days away, wandering up and down the King’s Road, reading in Chelsea Library, buying endless cups of coffee in cafés, or going to Peter Jones for tea and cake.
Is life passing me by?
she wondered.
I’m only twenty. Can it really all be over
?
A casual recommendation by Susie brought her a job in a candle shop on Walton Street where she soon learnt to consider scented candles one of the most pointless inventions in the world. Still, it used up a few hours every day, earned her some cash and gave her plenty of dreaming
time
to wonder what on earth she was going to do with herself next.
A letter arrived, forwarded to her from Foughton Castle.
Allegra chérie
,
How are you? It’s been too long! I miss you! I’ve just had a lovely long email from Imogen, who filled me in on some of your news. I was so sorry to hear that you got sent down – what horrible bad luck. You’re probably feeling a bit low after all that but, knowing you, you’re raring to have a go at something else
.
I was going to go to Oxford to see Midge but she’s working too hard at the moment, she says. I think she’s depressed about a boy – do you know anything about it?
If you’re not busy, why don’t you come and see me? I’ve just got back to Paris from New York and am having an amazing time. I’ll tell you the whole story when I see you, but in a nutshell I’ve fallen madly, madly in love and he’s wonderful! Come and meet him …
I don’t know where you’re living and Imogen didn’t say, so I’m sending this to Foughton and hope it reaches you. You can get me on this number. Do you have the same mobile? Perhaps you didn’t get my texts. Be in touch, I’d love to hear all your news
.
Lots of love
,
Romily x
P.S. I haven’t forgotten … MG4E
Allegra finished reading the letter and dropped it on the kitchen table. She hadn’t seen or been in touch with her friend now for over a year. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to contact her. She knew it was stupid and irrational but whenever she thought of Romily, she remembered her trip to Paris, and the very thought of that
made
her palms clammy and her heart race.
I don’t know why
, she told herself.
It’s not as if she did anything wrong
. Something shadowy flickered at the back of her mind, but she refused to look at it or think about it.
She’s in love
. The idea made Allegra feel simultaneously nauseated and depressed. She looked at the letter again.
Perhaps I’ll call her. Maybe it would be fun to go to Paris
.
But she knew in her heart that she wouldn’t go.
Chapter 31
Scotland
January 2004
IMOGEN RETURNED FROM
the first term of her second year feeling thoroughly disconsolate. Back in Oxford, she’d been told in no uncertain terms that she had to pull her socks up.
‘It’s been noted that you wasted your potential in the first year,’ her tutor had said. Although he’d been perfectly friendly and had plied her with sherry as usual, he’d been quite clear about what the college expected from her. ‘We know you’re capable of more. I don’t want to see you waste your time here, becoming some kind of social gadfly. There are too many people who take that path. Please don’t be one of them.’
There wasn’t much chance of that any more. Without Sam and Allegra, Imogen had lost her entire social circle; invitations to the smart set’s parties dried up with startling speed, and without Allegra to manage things she no longer had entrée to Oxford’s smartest clubs and houses. In fact, she had no one at all except for Nick, with whom she was sharing a set, who was still her tutorial partner.
‘Ah, love,’ he said sympathetically. ‘No more tales of the high life from you! Don’t worry, you’ve still got me.’
And, thank goodness, she did. Nick was always ready to listen, and always keen to pop open a bottle and sympathise
while
she talked about Xander, which she did a lot.
She simply couldn’t help it. He was like an obsession with her. Although she was working hard at her second-year studies, she could think of little else when she wasn’t deep in Chaucer or
Paradise Lost
.
‘Do you think he’s going to go out with me one day?’ she would ask Nick, having gone through every facet of the relationship from beginning to end all over again.
‘He might,’ Nick would say, putting on another Kate Bush track. ‘It’s definitely possible. But I think you should wait for him to come after you. No bloke likes a sure thing – let him do some of the chasing. But, to be honest, from what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like he’s going to.’
Imogen tried to listen to his wise words but the longing for Xander was overwhelming, despite what he’d said to her in the temple. Even though he’d told her he didn’t think their liaison would ever go anywhere, she was powerless to resist his lure. She spent hours trailing round Oxford, from library to library, from pub to café to restaurant, hoping she might run into him by chance. On more than one occasion, she found herself walking past the St Margaret’s Road house late at night, wondering if she dared knock on the door. Once, she even stood outside on the front step for five minutes before she quailed and hurried away. Every day she checked her pigeon hole, hoping that he would send her a note, an invitation, something … anything … but he never did.
What am I going to do
? she agonised.
How can I see him again? I know if I did I could convince him to give us a chance
.
Allegra was her best hope, but she had no interest in coming back to Oxford. Imogen tried to invite her for a visit but she was resolute.
‘No way,’ she said firmly when Imogen phoned her and suggested it. ‘I’m not going back, ever. You come to me if you want.’
But Imogen was working too hard to get away, and anyway, what was the point of that when Xander was here in Oxford? Unless, of course, he was in town. ‘What’s Xander up to?’ she said casually, but Allegra guessed at once.
‘Oh, no, honey, I’m not putting you two together again! I won’t expose you to that. He’s a menace, Midge. Honestly, I’m doing it for your own good. Xander’s going off the rails these days and I don’t want him to take you with him.’
If Allegra had been trying to stoke Imogen’s obsession, she couldn’t have done better. Now Imogen couldn’t fight the powerful conviction that Xander needed her, depended on her, even if he didn’t know it.
The Christmas holidays came and she went back to Scotland, feeling miserable. With Allegra in London, there was no reason to go to Foughton. Even her parents noticed how downcast Imogen was, and tried to cheer her up, but it was no good. She moped about, unable to focus on anything, losing weight through her lack of appetite, believing that for her life was over.
She was lying on her bed one afternoon reading, trying to quench her thirst for romance with her favourite Georgette Heyer novels instead of studying Shakespeare. The doorbell rang downstairs and she thought nothing of it until she heard her mother call for her.
She sighed, closed her novel and got up. At the bedroom door, she shouted, ‘What?’
‘There’s someone here to see you,’ called Jeannie.
‘Who?’
‘Come and see. A surprise.’
Xander?
she thought at once, and her heart raced.
Don’t be so silly
, she told herself.
Of course it won’t be him
. She went down the stairs grumpily and into the sitting room.
She gasped. There, sitting on one of the armchairs and looking radiant, was Romily. ‘Rom! Oh my God! What are you doing here?’
‘Hello, Midge, my darling! It’s been soooo long!’ Romily jumped to her feet and rushed over, enveloping Imogen in a strong hug. Then she stood back and looked at her friend. ‘You look different. Thinner! Are you OK?’
Imogen hugged her back, amazed and delighted by the unexpected appearance of her old friend. ‘Yes, I’m fine. But you look incredible.’
Romily was wearing a beautiful grey checked dress, nipped in at the waist with a wide patent leather belt that showed her slender figure, a smart charcoal jacket and long black boots. Her brown hair was longer now and glossy with health and expensive low lights. More noticeable than that, though, was her aura of happiness and the sparkle in her brown eyes. Romily laughed. ‘Yes, I’m feeling amazing at the moment.’
‘It’s wonderful to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were in Paris.’
‘I was.’ Romily laughed again, unable to disguise her happiness. ‘But I’ve come to Scotland. Guess why?’
‘To see Allegra?’ Imogen hazarded. ‘Is she back? Are they having a party or something?’
‘No, it’s not to see Allegra.’ A shadow passed over Romily’s face but cleared almost at once, her joyful smile restored. ‘You’ll never guess so I’ll have to tell you.’ She seized Imogen’s hand and said excitedly, ‘I’m getting married!’
Imogen’s mouth dropped open. ‘What?’ she said at last, when she’d regained the power of speech. ‘Married? Who to?’
‘To the most marvellous man. Remember I told you I’d met someone?’
‘Yes, yes …’ Imogen shook her head and laughed. ‘But that was only a few months ago. Are you really getting married?’
Romily nodded. ‘He’s just amazing. You’ll love him. At least, I do …’ She blushed prettily. ‘I never imagined feeling this way. But I’m utterly, totally, head over heels in love – and it’s incredible.’
Imogen squeezed her friend’s hand, smiling: Romily’s joy was infectious. ‘A whirlwind romance … how amazing. Sit down and tell me absolutely everything.’
They sat together on the sofa as Imogen said eagerly, ‘Well, where is he? Did you bring him here? I’m dying to meet him. Tell me all about him.’
‘He’s sorting out some of the finer details for the wedding,’ Romily explained, her eyes softening as she spoke. ‘I didn’t want to spring us both on you at the same time.’
‘You should bring him here right now,’ declared Imogen. ‘I’m dying of curiosity. But why on earth are you getting married in Scotland? I would have thought a grand affair in Paris or the Caribbean was more your style.’
‘We’re eloping. We’re going to Gretna Green – so much more romantic than Vegas. Isn’t it wonderful? At least, I think it is.’ Romily sighed happily. ‘You see, my parents wouldn’t exactly be in favour. If they knew. Which they don’t.’
Imogen laughed. ‘Ah. Oh, dear. You’re going to be in trouble.’
‘Never mind about that, I don’t. But I said to Mitch, as long as it’s Scotland, then I must see Imogen.’ Romily leaned forward, her brown eyes wide and beseeching. ‘I’ve got a huge favour to ask you – will you be my bridesmaid? We need a witness. Mitch was going to ask anyone who was about on the day, but it would mean so much to me if
someone
I care about is with me when I get married. My mother won’t be there naturally. You and Allegra are the closest I have to sisters. Would you think about it?’