Chapter 5
Mabel
The Cam was criss-crossed by bridges, and in summer there was an endless stream of punts passing underneath.
Zoe had talked me into doing a tour with her during freshers’ week, even though I wasn’t particularly keen on water.
In the end, though, I had to admit it was worth it.
Being carried past the colleges, seeing all the students sitting on the banks, letting my fingertips graze the slate-blue water and the low-hanging bellies of the bridges – it lent the university an even greater magic.
At night, however, I found it hard to see anything more than a chilling warning in the black river.
Perhaps, in part, it was the people. It wasn’t just their presence there.
In summertime, the meadows around the Cam were crowded well into the evening.
But in autumn, most of the students retreated to the pubs in town.
It was also the manner of their presence.
Most of the bridges were on college grounds, and students weren’t usually allowed to gather there after dark.
Parties would be rudely broken up by the porters.
Just like the week before, however, these students didn’t seem to care. There were fewer than last time, about fifteen or so, but they made no effort to be quiet. Or inconspicuous. A speaker was playing somewhere, Edith Piaf’s voice drifting out across the water.
As Zoe and I stepped onto Clare Bridge, my eyes were drawn to the riverbank below.
A group of students were sitting on the grass, which must surely still be damp with rain.
Four of them were distinctly underdressed.
While I was shivering in my layers – shirt, sweater dress and coat – they weren’t even wearing jackets.
Only two of them had pulled the sleeves of their coats down over their hands, their rapt faces turning from one host to another.
I grimaced. I knew that look. It was the same one that appeared on Zoe’s face as soon as we laid eyes on Ashton, standing halfway across the bridge.
We were late, because Zoe had kept changing her outfit.
I had simply reapplied my lipstick: a deep, gleaming red called ‘Deep Wish’ – ironic, because my only wish was to get through the evening in one piece.
Davie’s words kept playing in my head, overlaying the scene with a dismal grey pall.
I had no idea what he’d meant when he said these people were ‘bad news’, but I was feeling in pretty bad shape myself by the time we reached them.
‘There you are.’ Ashton drew Zoe into a half-hug, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Even in the dark I could see her blushing.
I was only half-listening as she explained why we were late, my eyes sweeping across the people gathered on the bridge.
A couple of them I thought I vaguely recognised, although I couldn’t put names to the faces.
Well, only two. I felt a tiny stab of disappointment, and despised myself for it.
I folded my arms and took a step closer to the balustrade.
On the bank below, a few party-goers were dangling their feet in the water – just watching them made my own toes feel like ice.
The girl next to Ashton was pouring herself a glass of wine. ‘Every time I come here I feel like the whole thing is about to collapse beneath our feet. I mean, when was this even built? Like in the 1800s?’
‘1638,’ I corrected her automatically. ‘Clare Bridge is the oldest surviving bridge in Cambridge.’
Zoe smiled at me in a way that made me feel embarrassed. ‘Told you she was smart.’
The girl twisted a finger in her black bob, murmering something that sounded a lot like ‘smart-arse, you mean’, but it barely registered. I’d been called a lot of names in my life, and ‘smart-arse’ or ‘know-it-all’ were among the more polite ones.
Zoe’s eyes narrowed, but I broke in before she could say anything. ‘So … your event’—I cleared my throat to get rid of the gooseflesh—‘it’s taking place on a bridge, is it?’
The girl surveyed the run in my tights, then the fraying hem of my coat. ‘Would you feel more comfortable under the bridge?’
I almost let out a groan. Not because she’d hit a nerve –‘poor’ was also one of the more pleasant words I’d been called over the course of my life – but because I knew not everybody present would take it lying down.
As if on cue, a jolt ran through Zoe’s body, and she took a step forward. ‘Excuse me?’
I reached for her hand, trying to defuse the situation. ‘It’s fine, leave it.’
‘No.’ She tore her hand away, still bearing down on the girl. I didn’t know anybody else for whom loyalty was so closely intertwined with impulsivity. ‘If she’s got a problem with you then she’s got a problem with me.’
‘Hey, relax. I don’t have a problem with your friend.’ The girl shot me a look that added: She’s not worth the effort.
Zoe planted a hand on her hip. ‘Oh, really? Because I could have sworn that being around someone three times cleverer than you are was making you feel threatened.’
Now it was the girl’s turn to take a step forward. ‘Are you calling me stupid? That’s a bold thing for a na?ve kid like you to say, moth.’
Soft creases furrowed Zoe’s brow. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Enough, Clementine.’ Ashton gave her a warning look. ‘Behave yourself.’
‘You forget – you’re not in a position to order everybody else around,’ she replied dryly. Her eyes darted from Zoe’s face to mine, before she turned away and stalked off.
Ashton ran a hand over Zoe’s tense shoulders, bringing it to rest on the back of her neck.
I thought of predators grabbing their prey by the scruff, and suddenly I felt queasy again.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said, once Clementine was out of earshot.
‘My friends can be a bit weird about meeting new people. They don’t mean any harm. ’
I felt like retorting that a lack of calculation or intent didn’t make it any less harmful, just more pointless. ‘No big deal,’ I said instead. Not to make Ashton happy, just to step Zoe down from DEFCON 1.
Judging by the look in her eyes, she was still toying with the idea of going after Clementine. Zoe never shied away from confrontation when defending her values and opinions, even at the risk of her own safety. I loved that about her, but often it worried me as well.
Ashton seemed to notice it too. His hand shifted to her throat, and he stroked his thumb across her skin. Within seconds Zoe’s gaze had softened, and the noise she made was suspiciously like a sigh. He responded with a satisfied smirk. ‘What do you reckon, Anima – come for a swim with me?’
I was about to laugh, but Zoe’s arrow-swift, ‘Sure’ held me back. I stared in bewilderment from her to Ashton, who was already unbuttoning his shirt. ‘In the Cam? It’s the end of October, the water’s way too cold for that.’
He grinned. As he undid the last button, my eyes went automatically to his collarbone, where my attention was caught by the mole immediately below it. It was oddly angular, and much darker than the ones a little further to the right. It looked almost like … a tiny puzzle piece.
‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t feel the cold, I promise,’ he said.
Zoe’s face reddened again, but I felt myself turn pale.
‘You’re welcome to join us,’ he added. ‘A couple of my friends down there would love to see you again.’ Something about the way he said it made me involuntarily draw my coat more tightly around me.
‘Mabel’s scared of water, especially in the dark,’ Zoe said before I could reply. ‘When she was a child she got pulled downriver in a rowing boat and they didn’t find her until the middle of the night.’
I threw her a warning look, but she missed it: too busy staring at Ashton’s hand in hers. Raptly, as if it didn’t even occur to her she was merrily spilling all my secrets.
Ashton regarded me with interest. ‘Sounds like quite a story.’
‘Just your standard-issue childhood trauma,’ I said dryly, although the mere memory of the day sent a chill down my spine. ‘But no, thanks, I’ll pass.’
Ashton shrugged. ‘Up to you.’
As he made to lead Zoe away, she pulled back from him and came to stand in front of me. ‘Are you going to be all right by yourself?’
The fact that she still had the wherewithal to ask dispelled the last of my exasperation, leaving only concern in its place.
I glanced at Ashton, waiting a few feet away.
He was still smiling, but with a strange impatience that made me uneasy.
‘Zoe,’ I began uncertainly, not knowing how to stop her.
I could see in her eyes how unreservedly she trusted Ashton to keep her safe.
‘You have my permission to give Tangerine or whatever her name is a smack in the mouth if she starts acting like a bitch again.’ She prodded me in the ribs and smiled, so radiantly that the corner of my mouth twitched in return.
‘Look after yourself, okay?’
‘Always do. And have fun, yeah? I’ll be back soon.’ She gave me a hug and let Ashton lead her away.
I stayed by the balustrade, watching them go.
Ashton’s shirt dissolved into the night before they’d even left the bridge, but I could see the pale glow of Zoe’s beige skirt until she shimmied out of it on the bank.
I watched, unsettled, as Ashton jumped into the water and threw his arms wide to catch her.
No sooner were they in the river than the others started stripping down to their underwear too – evidently this was a team effort to catch a cold.