life had been fairly straightforward, uninhibited but perhaps a bit unimaginative too. I certainly couldn’t imagine Ewan doing what Stephen had in among the bushes, despite expecting me to swallow.
I even began to feel happier about the debate. It was an excellent opportunity to get myself noticed, and as the third speaker out of maybe four or five I could afford to be fairly light-hearted about it, and to concentrate more on making sure everybody remembered me rather than the subject in question. Stephen’s suggestion was good as well, and by the time we’d reached the High I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to say.
We kissed goodbye at the bottom of The Turl and he hurried off in the direction of Emmanuel while I went into college. I was in need of coffee, and gave Violet’s door a tap as I pushed my key into my own. She answered immediately and I stuck my head in to find her lying face down on the bed, reading, with her legs kicked up and one lipstick-red shoe dangling negligently from her toes.
‘Coffee?’
‘I’ve got some. Help yourself.’
‘Thanks.’
I came in and poured myself a black coffee from the cafetière she kept pretty much always ready. As she folded her book I saw that it was the Pierre Louÿs,
La Femme et le Pantin
, which I was pretty sure she’d been reading when I’d watched her playing with herself. I couldn’t resist a question.
‘Is that good?’
She paused, as if to consider.
‘It’s a classic, if you like late-nineteenth-century erotica.’
‘I’ve never read any.’
She tossed the book down on the carpet where I’d curled myself on the enormous purple bean bag she kept in one corner. I picked it up, feeling awkward.
‘But aren’t you in the middle of it?’
‘I’ve read it before, plenty of times.’
I was forced to admit my ignorance. ‘I don’t read French, I’m afraid.’
‘No? Hang on.’
She’d answered me much as if I’d admitted to not knowing my alphabet, but quickly got up, reaching down another volume from her shelves, a translation of the same work. I took it, intrigued, but I wanted to tell her about my part in the Chamber debate.
‘I’m speaking at the Chamber next Thursday.’
‘On government brothels? I hope you’re against?’
‘Yes, I am actually. Giles Lancaster put my name forward, but for the opposition.’
‘Then you’ll be with James … Dr McLean. He’s opening, as guest speaker.’
‘Great, maybe we can compare notes, if he wouldn’t mind?’
She seemed a little uneasy as she answered. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, um … I suppose I’d better tell you about me and James.’
‘Not if you’d rather not.’ It was a blatant lie, because I was fascinated, and fortunately she didn’t take me up on my offer.
‘He and I were together, while I was an undergraduate.’
‘Here at Boniface?’
‘No, at Mary’s. He got dismissed.’
‘And you?’
‘I was the innocent victim, as far as they were concerned. I got counselling.’
She made a face, a little worried, a little defiant, and I hastened to reassure her.
‘Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Why should I?’
She bit her lip, and for an instant looked close to tears. I knelt up, holding her to me for a moment before letting go as she went on.
‘Thanks. It was all a bit fraught, as you can imagine. Very fraught, in fact, and it still is.’
‘I was wondering. Let me guess; you feel he pushed you into it but you can’t let go?’
‘No, just the opposite. I seduced him.’
5
I DIDN’T MANAGE to get the full story out of Violet, but as I lay in bed that night reading the book she had lent me I began to feel that I was gaining at least some insight. She’d referred to the book as erotica, but it wasn’t so much about sex as about obsessive love, cruelty and manipulation. It was also beautifully written, drawing me into the atmosphere of nineteenth-century Seville and the highly charged emotions of the narrator. Had it not been for the
I even began to feel happier about the debate. It was an excellent opportunity to get myself noticed, and as the third speaker out of maybe four or five I could afford to be fairly light-hearted about it, and to concentrate more on making sure everybody remembered me rather than the subject in question. Stephen’s suggestion was good as well, and by the time we’d reached the High I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to say.
We kissed goodbye at the bottom of The Turl and he hurried off in the direction of Emmanuel while I went into college. I was in need of coffee, and gave Violet’s door a tap as I pushed my key into my own. She answered immediately and I stuck my head in to find her lying face down on the bed, reading, with her legs kicked up and one lipstick-red shoe dangling negligently from her toes.
‘Coffee?’
‘I’ve got some. Help yourself.’
‘Thanks.’
I came in and poured myself a black coffee from the cafetière she kept pretty much always ready. As she folded her book I saw that it was the Pierre Louÿs,
La Femme et le Pantin
, which I was pretty sure she’d been reading when I’d watched her playing with herself. I couldn’t resist a question.
‘Is that good?’
She paused, as if to consider.
‘It’s a classic, if you like late-nineteenth-century erotica.’
‘I’ve never read any.’
She tossed the book down on the carpet where I’d curled myself on the enormous purple bean bag she kept in one corner. I picked it up, feeling awkward.
‘But aren’t you in the middle of it?’
‘I’ve read it before, plenty of times.’
I was forced to admit my ignorance. ‘I don’t read French, I’m afraid.’
‘No? Hang on.’
She’d answered me much as if I’d admitted to not knowing my alphabet, but quickly got up, reaching down another volume from her shelves, a translation of the same work. I took it, intrigued, but I wanted to tell her about my part in the Chamber debate.
‘I’m speaking at the Chamber next Thursday.’
‘On government brothels? I hope you’re against?’
‘Yes, I am actually. Giles Lancaster put my name forward, but for the opposition.’
‘Then you’ll be with James … Dr McLean. He’s opening, as guest speaker.’
‘Great, maybe we can compare notes, if he wouldn’t mind?’
She seemed a little uneasy as she answered. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, um … I suppose I’d better tell you about me and James.’
‘Not if you’d rather not.’ It was a blatant lie, because I was fascinated, and fortunately she didn’t take me up on my offer.
‘He and I were together, while I was an undergraduate.’
‘Here at Boniface?’
‘No, at Mary’s. He got dismissed.’
‘And you?’
‘I was the innocent victim, as far as they were concerned. I got counselling.’
She made a face, a little worried, a little defiant, and I hastened to reassure her.
‘Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Why should I?’
She bit her lip, and for an instant looked close to tears. I knelt up, holding her to me for a moment before letting go as she went on.
‘Thanks. It was all a bit fraught, as you can imagine. Very fraught, in fact, and it still is.’
‘I was wondering. Let me guess; you feel he pushed you into it but you can’t let go?’
‘No, just the opposite. I seduced him.’
5
I DIDN’T MANAGE to get the full story out of Violet, but as I lay in bed that night reading the book she had lent me I began to feel that I was gaining at least some insight. She’d referred to the book as erotica, but it wasn’t so much about sex as about obsessive love, cruelty and manipulation. It was also beautifully written, drawing me into the atmosphere of nineteenth-century Seville and the highly charged emotions of the narrator. Had it not been for the
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