Читать книгу Tilly Bagshawe 3-book Bundle: Scandalous, Fame, Friends and Rivals - Тилли Бэгшоу, Tilly Bagshawe - Страница 13
ОглавлениеMichaelmas term seemed to race by. Sasha hadn’t ever known time to pass so quickly. Once the excitement of freshers week was over, St Michael’s got back to work. The bar was still packed every night, but by eight thirty in the morning a steady stream of green-faced undergraduates could be seen on their bicycles heading for labs or libraries. Even Georgia, whose dedication to partying was the stuff of legend, dutifully trekked off to the architecture faculty building every morning with a back-breaking stack of files under her arm.
When she didn’t have a supervision – one-on-one teaching with Professor Dexter – Sasha spent her days shuttling between the Cavendish lab and the university library. After a brief panic in the first two weeks, when she’d worried she might be out of her depth intellectually (Professor Clancy’s ‘introductory’ lecture on nanophotonics was so impenetrable, he might as well have been speaking Urdu), she soon relaxed and began to delight in her studies. Not only was the teaching phenomenal – physics lessons at St Agnes’s felt like another lifetime already – but the facilities and technology at her disposal were the stuff of Sasha’s dreams. Of course, it was the Astrophysics course that really excited her: the formation of stars and planets, observational cosmology, evolution of galaxies, active galactic nuclei. Sasha had been obsessed with space before she knew how to say the word. She felt incredibly lucky that her own Director of Studies at St Michael’s, Professor Dexter, was an astrophysicist himself. Not to mention a wonderful teacher and mentor.
Sasha’s respect and admiration for Professor Dexter had grown exponentially since their first drink together in freshers week. Not only was he clearly an amazing physicist, but he really went the extra mile to nurture and encourage his students. He was constantly offering Sasha extra help with her assignments. When she began her first solo research project, into astrophysical plasmas, he even took time out of his weekend to come round to her rooms and check her work. How many professors did that? Of course, he was probably only too glad to get out of the house for a while, poor man. Over the past few weeks Professor Dexter – Theo – had opened his heart to Sasha about his unhappy marriage. His wife’s drinking problem and affairs had clearly wreaked a terrible emotional toll. But he was loyal to a fault, putting up with her blind rages. Bipolar disorder could do terrible things to a person. Sasha felt that, on some unspoken level, she and Professor Dexter had become friends. Their twice-weekly supervisions were the highlight of her week.
By contrast, one of the hardest parts of Sasha’s week was her regular Sunday-night phone call to Will. Every week she looked forward to hearing his voice. And every week they seemed to run out of things to say to each other almost immediately. It had got to the point where Sasha had taken to writing bullet-point lists before each call, pieces of news she could tell him, questions she could ask to keep things going. Twice he’d promised to come up and visit her, and twice he’d cancelled because of rugby.
‘I do miss you, babe. But I can’t let the lads down. Maybe you could come back to Sussex for a weekend? We’re playing Saracens’ Second Fifteen on Sunday, there’s gonna be a huge party at High Rocks afterwards.’
‘I can’t, darling. Not this weekend. I’ve got so much work to do,’ said Sasha. Then she felt guilty all week because she’d lied to him, and she didn’t know why. What’s happening to us?
At last, one Saturday in late November, Will made it up to Cambridge. Sasha met him at the station, wrapped up in so many layers of sweaters and scarves he almost didn’t recognize her.
‘Christ on a bike, it’s cold up here,’ he shivered, hugging her tightly on the platform. ‘This wind. It’s like bloody Siberia.’ Dressed in his favourite Diesel jeans and Tonbridge rugby shirt under a cool leather bomber jacket, he looked even more handsome than Sasha remembered him. He smelled of Givenchy aftershave and mouthwash, and his arms felt so strong and wonderful around her. What an idiot I’ve been, thought Sasha. He’s perfect. Everything’s going to be fine.
In the taxi, he reached under Sasha’s duffel coat and put a cold hand on her thigh.
‘I can’t wait to unwrap you, my darling. Have you missed me?’
‘Of course I have,’ said Sasha, adding guiltily, ‘there’s been so much to do here, that’s all, work and finding my way around and stuff. I can’t wait to show you St Michael’s. Isn’t Cambridge beautiful?’
They were driving down Trumpington Street, in the heart of the old university district, but Will wasn’t interested in sightseeing.
‘Mmmm,’ he yawned. ‘You’re not on your period are you?’
Sasha blushed. ‘No!’
‘Good.’ Will’s hand crept higher. ‘I’m sorry to be blunt, but this is the longest time I’ve gone without sex since I was like, twelve. The only part of St Michael’s I’m interested in is your bedroom.’
Don’t be annoyed, Sasha told herself. He’s trying to pay you a compliment. You should be grateful he’s stayed faithful. There’ll be plenty of time to show him around tomorrow.
At Will’s request, they spent the afternoon squeezed into Sasha’s minute single bed. Sex felt awkward at first. Sasha had forgotten how perfect Will’s body was, taut and athletic and muscular, like a Michelangelo sculpture. She’d also forgotten how fit he was. As much as she fancied him, after the third round of shagging she was starting to feel not just bored but exhausted. And sore. Will’s idea of foreplay was to kiss each boob once before launching himself into her like an Exocet.
‘Are you hungry, darling?’ she asked tentatively as he came loudly for a third time before rolling off her, spent. If rugby was Will’s favourite thing in the world and sex his second favourite, Sasha had learned early that food ran a close third. ‘I thought we might wander down to the Pickerel. It’s a really lovely old pub. They do a good lasagne, and you could meet some of my friends.’
‘Sure.’ Will bounded out of bed like a Labrador. Lasagne sounded wicked. Sasha’s nerdy science-geek mates would be less wicked, but he could put up with them for an hour or two if he had to. ‘We’ll regain our strength before tonight!’
He grinned.
Good heavens, thought Sasha. At this rate I’ll be in a wheelchair by the end of the weekend.
Half an hour later Sasha walked into the pub with Will and was immediately dragged to the loo by Georgia.
‘Oh. My. God. That’s Will? That boy-band hottie with the Justin Timberlake arse?’
Sasha laughed. ‘I told you he was attractive.’
‘Attractive? He’s Brad bloody Pitt, Sash. If I had a bloke like that at home I’d have told St Michael’s to stick their offer. How could you bear to leave him?’
Half an hour later, Georgia was beginning to understand how Sasha could have borne it. Will Temple was one of the most handsome boys she’d ever seen. He was also vain, self-centred and a complete cretin.
‘I’ve never seen the point of university myself, to be honest. Obviously I’m pleased for Sasha. But I’m more interested in the real world. The UOL.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Georgia smiled politely.
‘University of Life. I’m all about experiences, you know. Travel, other cultures.’
‘I see. And have you travelled much?’
‘Oh God yeah. I’ve been to France, loads of times. And I’ve been on rugby tours all over. Australia, Samoa, New Zealand …’
‘Three hotbeds of culture …’ Georgia muttered under her breath, but Will wasn’t listening. Will never listened.
‘Sport’s the one true international language,’ he went on. ‘It can totally bring people together. But you know what I’m talking about. You must be a sportswoman, right? You don’t get that kind of body stuck in a library all day sitting on your arse, that’s for sure.’
Georgia winced. How can Sasha stand this guy? He’s been shamelessly flirting with me all evening right in front of her. And he’s totally ignored the rest of our group, Lisa and Josie and all the boys. All he cares about is impressing women. Well he certainly doesn’t impress me.
‘Josie’s been to New Zealand,’ Georgia changed the subject.
‘Have you?’ asked Sasha.
‘Last year. For a biology field trip. It was incredible.’ The chubby, chipmunk-faced redhead began to talk about the rainforests. Will feigned interest for about twenty seconds, then yawned pointedly and turned to Sasha.
‘I’m really knackered, babe. Let’s go back to yours.’
Sasha looked at her watch. ‘But it’s only nine o’clock, Will. It’s a bit early to go to bed isn’t it?’
‘Don’t worry. We won’t be going to sleep.’ He winked at Georgia.
Prick.
‘I’ll have a quick slash and we can make a move. Nice meeting you all.’ Getting to his feet, Will made his way to the men’s loos.
‘Sorry,’ said Sasha. She was clearly embarrassed. ‘He doesn’t mean to be rude. It’s just we haven’t seen each other for ages.’
No one said anything. In the end Danny, a wry engineer from Glasgow, said gently, ‘You know, Sasha, it’s none o’ my business. But I wouldnae say the two of you have an awful lot in common.’
‘We do,’ Sasha shot back automatically. ‘Honestly. At home we do. I think he feels a bit out of place here, that’s all. He’ll get used to it.’
I hope not, thought Georgia. The thought of Will Temple becoming a regular feature of their weekends was enough to make her bring up her lasagne.
On the walk back to college, it started to snow. Thick, soft flakes drifted down onto the cobbles, their progress illuminated by the warm orange glow of the street lamps. In front of them, King’s College Chapel rose out of the darkness like a fairytale castle. Sasha snuggled tighter into Will’s body.
‘You can see why I love it here, can’t you?’
‘Sure.’
Not a flicker of interest. Sasha tried again.
‘I mean, there’s a magic to it. Something in the air. Do you know what I mean?’
‘The air?’ said Will absently. ‘The air’s arctic. How far are we from your college? My nuts are about to drop off.‘
For the first time all day, Will noticed that Sasha was upset. She’d pulled away and started walking faster up ahead of him.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s you. You’re the matter.’ She turned around. Snowflakes began to settle on her shoulders. ‘You were really rude to my friends back there.’
‘Oh, come on, Sash. They weren’t exactly the most exciting bunch. Apart from the blonde.’ He smiled knowingly.
‘They’re my friends, Will. Do you know how bored I am with your friends? But at least I make an effort.’
Now it was Will’s turn to get angry. ‘An effort? Don’t talk to me about making an effort. At least I came up here to see you, which is more than you’ve been bothered to do all autumn.’
‘Well, why did you come? You don’t want to see me. All you want to do is have sex!’
‘So? What’s wrong with sex? Jesus, Sasha. If you want to go out with a fucking intellectual why don’t you go and marry Stephen bloody Hawking? It’s not me that’s changed. It’s you.’
That night they lay together in stony silence. Will fell asleep after about an hour, but Sasha lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through her conflicting feelings. Is he right? Have I changed? She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d abandoned him. They’d been so happy last summer, in the woods at Tidebrook. Was this how Professor Dexter felt, lying in bed next to his mean, bipolar wife? A stranger in his own life?
The next morning they patched things up, on the surface anyway. Will’s train was at two, so they spent the morning walking along the snowy Backs and had a goodbye lunch at Wagamama.
‘How are your noodles?’
‘Fine, thanks. Would you like another Coke?’
‘Oh, I’m OK. Thanks.’
The politeness was awful.
By three o’clock, Sasha was back at St Michael’s. It was properly winter now, and the sky was already beginning to fade to a bluish twilight that made the snow-covered college look like a Christmas card. But Sasha couldn’t enjoy it. She’d blown things with Will. It was over. In a few weeks she’d be home in Sussex for the holidays, and he’d be out with some other girl. Carolina Fuller probably. She’d been after him for months. Slut. Would Sasha regret it once she got home? Here, at Cambridge, her life in Sussex felt like a dream. But what if it was the other way around? What if home and Will were her reality, and her undergraduate life was just a passing phase? What if she never found love again?
‘Penny for your thoughts?’
Theo, looking ruggedly gorgeous in a blue cable-knit sweater and jeans, emerged from his rooms on First Court.
‘It can’t be that bad, surely?’
Sasha shrugged. ‘I don’t know if it’s bad or not. I think I just broke up with my boyfriend.’
With immense difficulty, Theo suppressed a grin.
‘Poor Sasha. That’s hard. Break-ups are always hard.’
Sasha smiled. He’s so nice. Maybe it’s because he’s younger than other professors? He can still remember what it’s like to be our age. ‘How come you’re in college on a Sunday, Professor Dexter? Isn’t it your day off?’
‘Sasha, if I have to tell you again I’m going to throttle you. It’s Theo, OK? You’re not in sixth form now.’
‘OK,’ Sasha giggled. ‘Sorry.’
‘And yes, it is my day off, but to be perfectly honest with you I couldn’t face the silence at home.’ His handsome brow furrowed. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ he said stoically. ‘What about you? Where are you off to?’
‘The library,’ said Sasha. ‘Thank God for research, eh? You can really lose yourself. There’s nothing like astrophysical plasmas to take one’s mind off things, don’t you find?’
Theo laughed aloud. She was so earnest.
‘I tell you what. I’ve got a better idea. How about we cheer each other up? Have you ever seen the St Michael’s wine cellars?’
‘Of course not.’ St Michael’s College was renowned for having one of the best-stocked, most valuable wine cellars not just in Cambridge but in all of Europe. For obvious reasons, undergraduates were not allowed access to them. Only a very small number of fellows had keys, and even they had to sign in to a log book and follow certain, time-honoured security procedures.
‘Would you like to?’
Sasha nodded eagerly. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but her dad was a keen amateur wine buff. If she passed up this chance he’d never forgive her.
‘Good. Follow me.’
Theo led her over the bridge into Second Court. Pulling out a cluster of keys, he unlocked the heavy oak door to St Michael’s Formal Hall and pushed it open. Sasha had eaten in Hall a few times. Like Theo she loved the formality and tradition of it, getting dressed up in her gown and all that. But she’d never seen the place empty. Being here now, alone, she felt like Beauty exploring the Beast’s enchanted castle. It was illicit and exciting.
‘This way.’
She followed Theo up the steps to the high table, where the Master and all the senior fellows sat. Sasha couldn’t resist running her fingers along the polished mahogany table as they walked its length, eventually coming to some steps that led down to a red velvet curtain. Behind the curtain was another door.
‘It’s like Oz!’ Sasha laughed.
‘Isn’t it?’ Theo unlocked the second door. A smell of damp stone, musty and ancient, hit Sasha in the face like a punch. Behind the door everything was dark. Theo fumbled for the light switch and a dim, thirty-watt bulb flickered to life, revealing a winding stone staircase. ‘Either that or Scooby Doo. When I first came down here I confidently expected a mummy to leap out of one of the alcoves and start chasing me.’
Sasha thought, He’s so much fun. Guiltily she realized that she’d forgotten about Will already. His train wouldn’t even have reached London yet.
Edging their way down the staircase, leaning on the stone wall for support, they finally emerged into a vaulted, redbrick crypt. Fumbling in his pocket for a lighter, Theo pulled it out and to Sasha’s delight reached up and lit an old-fashioned oil lamp bracketed to the wall. The effect was marvellously Dickensian. Hundreds, no, thousands of dusty bottles danced in the light of the flickering flame. Theo lit another lamp, then a third. In the middle of the room was a simple refectory table with two benches and a single, high-backed chair with a cushion at the head. It was laid with about twenty wine glasses, long stemmed and each topped with bowls almost as big as Sasha’s head, and an exquisite ivory corkscrew. At the back of the room was a rather tatty sofa and a rattan ottoman with a lid. Idly, Sasha wandered over and opened it. Inside were piles of neatly stacked blankets.
‘It can get pretty cold down here,’ Theo explained. ‘You should put one on. And get one out for me.’
He was writing something in a thick, leather-bound log book by the door. Signing his name with a flourish, he smiled and turned to Sasha.
‘Can I offer you a drink, Miss Miller?’
‘Oh, no, we can’t.’ She handed him his blanket. ‘Won’t you get in trouble?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Theo. ‘The Master’s an old friend. Red or white?’
Sasha hesitated. This felt like the sort of thing you could get sent down for. On the other hand, if Professor Dexter said it was all right … what the hell. After the weekend she’d had she deserved a drink.
‘Red.’ Georgia’s always telling me to be more impulsive and let my hair down. If only she could see me now!
‘Red it is.’
Theo selected a bottle thick with dust and pulled it out. ‘This should do to get us started.’
Sasha looked at the label and gasped. It was a Château Pétrus Bordeaux, 1984. ‘Pétrus? No, no, no, we can’t possibly. Do you realize how much this is worth?’
‘I do,’ said Theo, expertly drawing the cork with a gentle pop and pouring two glasses. He handed one to Sasha. ‘The question is, Sasha: do you realize how much you’re worth?’
He was staring at her, holding eye contact. Sasha felt her insides liquefy and her knees start to wobble. Is he coming on to me? But no, he couldn’t be. He was her professor. Her married professor. Besides, even if he wanted to be unfaithful (understandable in his situation) a man like Theo Dexter could have any woman he wanted. He wouldn’t be interested in a teenage nobody like her.
Holding out his hand, Theo stroked her cheek. Oh my God. Sasha felt as if she was about to pass out. ‘Sasha. Beautiful Sasha …’
‘Professor Dexter, I …’
‘Shhhh.’ Leaning forward, he put down his wine glass and stopped her with a kiss. It started as a tender brushing of the lips. But before Sasha knew it their whole bodies were entwined, pressing against one another. Theo’s tongue felt hot inside her mouth, caressing her, teasing her. The only other person Sasha had kissed was Will, and that had felt … well, nothing like this, that was for sure. It was all very disconcerting. Her limbs seemed to be acting with a mind of their own. Were those her fingers in Professor Dexter’s hair? Theo pressed his hard thigh between Sasha’s legs and she jumped like a flea on a hotplate.
‘Stop! We can’t.’ Panicked, she pulled away from him. ‘I’m … you’re … this is definitely against the rules.’
‘Whose rules?’ Theo kissed her again. God, it was heavenly.
‘Everybody’s rules!’ She squirmed free again. ‘I’m your student, Professor … Theo. You’re my teacher. And you’re married.’
Theo’s quick mind was working overtime. He had to tread very carefully here. He’d put in a lot of groundwork with Sasha all term and he didn’t want to blow it at the last hurdle. I mustn’t be the bad guy. I have to make her feel sorry for me.
‘I know.’ He sat down on one of the benches and put his head in his hands. Sasha tried to feel relieved, but part of her – a big part – wished he would waive aside her objections and start kissing her again. What am I getting myself into? She took a big slug of her wine, choked, then took another, draining her glass. She sat down next to Theo, who wordlessly reached for the bottle and poured her another.
‘I’m being selfish,’ he said. ‘I know that. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my marital problems. Sometimes I just feel like …’ He paused, as if struggling to find the right words. ‘Like I’d like some happiness for myself for a change. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?’
‘No. Not at all.’ Instinctively, Sasha put her arms around him. ‘And you’re not burdening me. I’m happy to listen.’
The mothering instinct, thought Theo. Women can’t resist a bird with a broken wing.
‘You’ve been so kind to me since I got here, Pro … Theo,’ she blushed. ‘The least I can do is return the favour.’
Theo swirled the Pétrus around in his glass, gazing into the deep purple liquid as if the secret to his life’s problems might lie hidden in its depths. Then he took a slow sip and said quietly, ‘You’re not attracted to me. Well, why would you be?’ He flashed Sasha a sweet, self-deprecating smile. ‘In your eyes I’m probably only a few years away from my pension.’
‘That is absolutely not true!’ Sasha touched his cheek, turning him to face her. The Pétrus must have gone straight to her head or she would never have been so forward. But her inhibitions seemed to be deserting her. ‘I think you’re extremely attractive. Everybody does,’ she added, immediately regretting blurting out the last part. She didn’t want to sound like some sort of groupie.
‘I can’t help it Sasha.’ Tears welled up in Theo’s eyes. ‘When I’m with you, I feel like I can glimpse my future. And for the first time in years, I see happiness.’
‘Oh, Theo.’ Sasha leaned forwards and kissed him. There was no hesitation this time. Slipping his hands under her shirt, cupping her magnificent teenage breasts, it was all Theo could do not to punch the air in triumph. Swiftly, joyously, his practised hands unclasped her bra and helped her out of her jeans, stripping off layer after layer of clothing like an erotic game of pass the parcel. Bending his head to kiss her belly, then tracing his tongue slowly down to her smooth, creamy thighs, Theo felt Sasha’s back arch and heard her gasp involuntarily, lost in pleasure and too inexperienced to hide it.
‘You’re shaking,’ he whispered. ‘Are you cold?’
‘A little,’ murmured Sasha.
Theo grinned, ‘Let’s warm you up then, shall we?’
Hastily throwing one of the blankets down on the table, he lifted her up as easily as he might a rag doll and lay her down on her back. Still dressed himself – there was no need for both of them to catch hypothermia – he unceremoniously unzipped his flies to release an erection that put poor Will’s in the shade. Grabbing Sasha’s hand he curled her fingers around it.
‘Good God.’ Her eyes widened. ‘It’s huge!’
Could this get any better?
‘It is all yours,’ he whispered, thrusting himself inside her with so much force that she slid two feet up the table. Her body was exquisite, perfectly proportioned, slim yet succulent. He couldn’t keep his lips off those perfect breasts, and his hands groped greedily for her buttocks as he fucked her harder and faster, racing towards climax. But best of all were Sasha’s responses. So desirous, so uninhibited! She made him feel like Mick Jagger.
Theo had been bored of Clara for months now. The porno body that had once so excited him now seemed grotesque. It was like fucking a pregnant sow. When sex with your wife was more exciting than sex with your mistress, something was very wrong. But now dear, sweet little Sasha Miller was here. And everything was very, very right.
With one final jerk of the hips, Theo Dexter closed his eyes and came. He felt the glorious tightening of Sasha’s muscles around him, heard her moaning with her own orgasm as she bucked and writhed helplessly beneath him.
This was going to be a great year after all.
Back at home, Theresa was putting the finishing touches to her signature chocolate fudge cake. It was Theo’s favourite, and she’d spent the entire afternoon baking it, neglecting her book, in the hope of cheering him up. He’d disappeared after breakfast this morning in a foul mood, mumbling something about going into college, and hadn’t so much as texted her since.
Staring out of the kitchen window at the snowy front garden, Theresa watched a little robin hop tentatively across the lawn, eyeing the bird feeder in her apple tree.
Poor thing. I forgot to fill it. Theo was always getting cross with her for her forgetfulness. But how was one supposed to remember not to forget things, that was the question? I’ll do it as soon as I’ve iced the cake.
Biting her lip, eyes narrowed in concentration, she began tracing a perfect, italic T in icing sugar across the gooey chocolate. Like snow on a ploughed field. Jenny and Jean Paul had gone out to Grantchester to make snowmen with the kids. Sensing Theresa’s loneliness, Jenny had asked her to join them, but Theresa didn’t feel like playing gooseberry. Besides, Theo might be back any minute. Whatever was troubling him, he wouldn’t want to come home and find a dark, empty house.
She finished the cake, and then disappeared to hunt for kindling so she could light a nice, welcoming fire.
She’d completely forgotten about the robin.
In St Michael’s wine cellar, curled up naked on the sofa under a big pile of blankets, Sasha Miller lay in Professor Theo Dexter’s arms in blissful shock.
Will Temple’s Casanova reputation would never recover.
‘What are you thinking?’ Theo softly stroked her hair.
I’m thinking about what my wedding dress will look like. I’m thinking about waking up with you every morning for the rest of my life. I’m thinking about spending long, heavenly days in a laboratory with you by my side, unravelling the mysteries of the universe together. I’m thinking that maybe I do like sex after all …
‘Nothing. Only that I’m happy.’
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. ‘So am I, Sasha. You do realize we’re going to have to be discreet about this? We know we’re not doing anything wrong. But the university authorities might not be so understanding. And Theresa …’
Sasha put a finger to his lips. ‘I completely understand.’
I’m a mature woman now. I’m in love with an important, brilliant, troubled man. I must handle this like an adult and show Theo that he can trust me.
The truth was, she didn’t want to tell anybody anyway. Some nameless, inner voice told her that Georgia and the rest of her undergraduate friends might not have understood. Keeping it a secret somehow made it all the more precious. As for Theo’s wife, well, life was complicated. They’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it.
