Chapter 23
Twenty-three
VICTORIA WAS SEATED AT the head of the table.
She was wearing a black velvet Bardot dress.
Her hair was piled in curls on her head.
In the gloom of the dining room, her skin looked pale and vampiric.
A hunk of cold veal sat shrivelled and untouched in front of her.
She drummed the table with her fingers and surveyed the four of us, the light from the candelabra smouldering in her eyes.
‘I can’t wait to be a third-year,’ Jolly said. ‘Remember how impressive we used to think they were when we first joined the school?’
‘Yeah, they seemed so much older than us,’ Obi added.
‘Also, everyone knows Frida goes easier on third-years,’ Jolly said. ‘Imagine, we might actually get treated like human beings.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, man,’ Stefano said, laughing.
Victoria sighed.
‘You all right there, V?’ Obi asked.
She gave a small shrug and looked off to one side. I noticed her leg jiggling beneath the white tablecloth.
‘Thanks for dinner, V,’ I said, lining up my knife and fork. ‘I mean, thank you to the kitchen. It was delicious.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Jolly added, raising his glass.
‘Yes, delicious,’ Obi said. ‘By the way, have any of you started writing to agents yet?’
‘Ugh, don’t,’ Jolly said, groaning and putting his head in his hands. ‘I can’t think about all that yet. Did you see Malcolm’s email? They want us to start thinking of showcase scenes already.’
‘Still,’ Obi said, ‘it’s good to be prepared.’
Victoria sighed again, louder this time.
‘V?’ Obi said.
‘What?’
‘You OK?’
‘Well, frankly, no.’ She reached for the bottle and sloshed a large helping of Barolo into her glass. ‘Frankly, I’m bored out of my brain. You lot have talked about nothing but school for the last hour, while here I was thinking I invited you all here this weekend to have fun.’
‘You’re right.’ Stefano banged the table with his fist. ‘Let’s get this party going.’
Obi held up his hands in surrender. ‘OK, OK, fair enough. What do you want to do?’
Victoria took a hearty swig of her drink. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment, before grinning at each of us in turn. ‘We should all fuck.’
Stefano snorted so wine came out of his nose. Obi smiled politely. I sank back in my chair and Jolly rolled his eyes. ‘Ah, finally,’ he said. ‘She gives us the real reason we’re here.’
‘What?’ Victoria said, twirling a loose lock of hair. ‘Is that so preposterous? We’re young, we’re fit. Why not? Shannon, you’re up for it, right?’
I smiled weakly and dabbed the corners of my mouth with a napkin. ‘Sure, whatever.’ I had an uneasy feeling. It was Rome, happening all over again. As Victoria’s guests we were at her beck and call, merry players at court, duty-bound to dance whatever jig she demanded of us.
Obviously not having learned his lesson the first time, Stefano loudly proclaimed, ‘Count me in.’
‘I think she’s joking, mate,’ Obi said.
‘Why do you think that?’ Victoria said, resting her chin on her hands and staring at him.
‘V,’ Jolly cut in, ‘don’t you think we should maybe wait until your mum is off the premises before we host an orgy?’
‘Why? She’d be up for it.’
Stefano tipped his head back and laughed.
‘See, Stefano’s fun. Why can’t you all be more fun like him?’
I peered at Victoria, trying to work out her game, what we were doing here and, after our walk in the woods, why she’d invited Stefano to play along.
She glanced over and caught my eye. Her pupils were so dilated that, in the half-light, her eyes looked black as two coals. I saw her beaded purse, discarded by the door, the slight tremor in her jaw, and knew then that she’d taken something.
‘Has everyone got through the reading list for next term?’ Obi said.
‘Stop trying to change the subject,’ Victoria said, brandishing a butter knife at him. ‘I didn’t invite you here so you could be a boring prude all weekend.’
Obi chewed the inside of his cheek and stared at the portrait above the mantelpiece, a fox pursued by the hunt.
‘I got the Actors’ Yearbook second-hand,’ Jolly said. ‘It’s out of date, but it’s probably got all the same information as this year’s edition. Obi, you can borrow it if you want.’
‘Thanks, mate,’ he murmured.
‘No, no, no! Stop being boring!’ Victoria said petulantly, bashing the knife against her plate. ‘I demand that you all stop being boring. It’s my house, my rules. Stefano, you go first. Last shag?’
I stared at my plate. My vision darkened.
‘Erm, probably like a month ago, this petite girl, real eager to please, a first-year.’
‘Which first-year?’ Victoria asked, her eyes widening in delight.
‘Don’t answer that, Stef,’ Obi said, a flash of warning in his voice.
‘Of course I won’t, I’m a gentleman,’ Stefano said, holding his hands up and swallowing back a belch. ‘But I will say she had fantastic breasts, like two ripe beef tomatoes.’
‘Beef tomatoes?’ Jolly said, pulling a face. ‘Jesus Christ. Right, that’s it. I am officially changing the subject. The riots the other week. Go.’
‘My mum wouldn’t let me go into central London,’ Obi said. ‘We just sat there watching it on the news.’
‘It’s mad what people were doing.’
‘Who was your last shag, Jolly?’ Victoria asked.
Jolly carried on as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘I know a guy who stole four boxes of trainers from a Foot Locker on Oxford Street. Perfectly normal guy. I would never have guessed he had it in him.’
Victoria leaned across the table, her breasts skimming the veal platter, until she drew level with his face. ‘WHO WAS YOUR LAST SHAG, JACOB MCANDREW?’
Jolly closed his eyes and, gathering his last reserves of patience, answered drily, ‘Terrence. As you well know, Victoria.’
‘See, that wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’ She sat back in her chair. Her gaze roamed across Stefano’s face before falling on mine. ‘And what about you, Shannon? Who was your last shag?’
‘I . . .’
‘Maybe we should all get some air,’ Obi said, loosening his collar.
‘Yeah, I’m boiling,’ I added quickly.
‘Or in fact no, this will be way, way, waaay more interesting,’ Victoria said, slapping the table with both hands. ‘Obi, who was your last shag?’
No one said anything.
‘V . . .’
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Tell the group.’
‘I’m not going to answer that, V.’
‘Who?’
‘No.’
‘Who?’
‘No.’
‘WHO?’
‘Fuck this,’ Obi said, knocking the table and startling us as he stood up. ‘I’m going outside.’
We watched him leave in silence.
Jolly gave Victoria a look. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’
‘What?’ she said. ‘What did I say? So the guy can’t take a joke. Why is that my problem exactly?’
Jolly turned his gaze on Stefano. ‘Was this you?’ he asked. ‘Did you give her something? What’s she taken?’
Stefano held up his hands. ‘Hey, man—’
‘Is that why you’re here? As some sort of mule?’
‘This is my house, Jolly. You don’t get to talk to my guests like that.’
‘What’s she taken?’ he repeated, glowering at Stefano.
‘I’ve not taken anything!’ Victoria yelled, scraping her chair back and standing up. ‘And it would be none of your fucking business if I had anyway.’ She looked at Stefano, who was staring down into his lap. ‘Well, aren’t you going to say anything?’
He didn’t look up.
‘Whatever.’ She scoffed. ‘You people? You bore me. I don’t know why I even bother with you when I actually have interesting people in my life who I could be spending my time with.
Interesting and important people.’ She left the room, slamming the door; I flinched.
We heard her voice from the corridor: ‘Enjoy your fucking stay.’