Her Frozen Heart

The day after the visit to Kings Harcourt, there was an email from Nicholas in Caitlyn’s inbox.

Thanks for coming yesterday. I really enjoyed it. I’ve sent a letter to Aunt Geraldine (the phone’s no good, she’s too deaf) to ask her if she’d like to rent the main house to you, but my guess is, she’d be delighted. She always prefers it when there are people there. I’ll let you know when I hear back from her. Maybe we can meet up and discuss it.

Drop me a line if you’ve got any questions . . .

Nicholas x

Caitlyn read it through twice. It was a perfectly nice message – friendly, normal, kind.

Can I accept an offer to rent the house? she thought anxiously. I mean, it’s wonderful. I loved it and so would Max. It’s a bit remote but for a summer while I look for somewhere to buy, it would be perfect. She imagined Maura and the family coming to spend the long summer holidays, with Callum joining them at weekends, the children playing in the gardens and in the fields, barbecues on the terrace . . . Nicholas had said there was even an ancient swimming pool.

But how can I? After all, he turned out to be like all the rest, unable to resist Sara. All the rest except Patrick.

She closed the message and put him out of her mind. There were plenty of other things to think about, after all. It was almost half-term and Maura had suggested that Max come and stay with her and the family for a few days, if Caitlyn wanted some time to herself.

But actually the prospect appealed to her. She wanted Max to enjoy being with his boisterous cousins, but it wasn’t something she could yet handle. Her days were usually so framed by his needs and his timetable that, if she was really going to have to pack up the house again and prepare to move, it would be good to have a few clear days. They arranged for Maura to drive up on the Friday, collect Max and take him back to London.

Maura smiled and tossed her coat down on the sofa. ‘I’m really glad. Oxford obviously suits you. I always thought you were a little bit lost in your old house. This is not so smart as you were used to – but it’s more you.’

‘I suppose it is.’ Caitlyn looked around. There was no pale blue or grey to be seen. The exquisite perfection of her last home had been replaced with piles of books on tables, cups on the draining board, a mishmash of cushions squashed wherever they’d last been sat on. It would have driven Patrick nuts.

It gave her a pang to think about it: the years with Patrick which at times had seemed oppressive but were also so full of beauty, sparkle and glamour.

‘I know. The timing’s rubbish. I’m looking for somewhere else. Somewhere in Oxford, I suppose. Unless I move closer to the school.’

‘Maybe.’ Caitlyn smiled. ‘Or maybe I need to get away from Oxford. Too many memories.’

‘I did but . . . you know. It wasn’t all good.’ She thought of Nicholas, then said quickly, ‘Anyway, how are the kids?’

After a good long catch-up, Maura took an excited Max away with her, leaving the house calm and quiet. Caitlyn went to the mirror over the fireplace and gazed at her reflection. She was thinner, definitely. More hollow-cheeked. After all those years of worrying, she’d not thought about her weight for ages and this was the result. But without Patrick to cook for, she barely ate in the evenings and rarely drank.

But I look so old, she thought, pinching her cheeks to smooth out the line from her nose to her mouth. Old and tired. There was a broad line of dark roots at her parting. Her golden brown highlights had not been topped up since before Patrick died. Grey wisps floated over her ears and sprang up around her hairline. Well, I’m not eighteen any more, and that’s that. I’m not that girl any more. I might as well leave it all in the past, just as Nicholas has.

The exams were over and at last Caitlyn could relax and celebrate. The college threw them a special finals dinner. They’d dressed up: black tie for the boys, evening dresses for the girls, all wearing their gowns over the top, the dark cotton flapping around them like bats’ wings. A scholar’s gown for her, falling to her ankles, framing her black velvet dress, because she’d won the scholarship, the one that Sara had told her so confidently that she – Sara – was going to get. They’d assembled in one of the grand college rooms for drinks beforehand. She remembered Nicholas now, so very handsome suddenly in his dinner jacket, his bow tie at a slightly jaunty angle, making her want to reach out and straighten it, though she didn’t dare. They’d drunk champagne with their tutors, all chattering away, almost dizzy with relief that the exams were over and now they were free of the burden of finals hanging over their heads. They’d talked about their future plans and what awaited them after the summer. And all the time, despite spending ages with Dr Yates, she’d been aware of Nicholas, always close.

They’d gone to the Senior Common Room dining room for dinner, a place they’d never seen before and never would again – but Nicholas must go there all the time now – and dinner had been served, five courses on shimmering antique golden plates with the best wines from the college cellar, and then coffee in the drawing room.

I’ll never do this again, she’d thought, telling herself to enjoy every moment, but all she could really think about was Nicholas. Because it’s our last chance. Even if they kept in touch, this was the last time they would be here, belonging to this place and everything it had meant to them. Sometimes she’d glance at him and find his eyes on her, and a pleasurable rush would zoom through her, the tingle of anticipation flooding out to her fingertips. It’s got to be tonight.

And, inevitably, they had gravitated together. When the tutors had bidden them farewell, congratulated them on three years well lived and wished them luck for the results that would soon be posted, they had strolled out together into the dark quad, stars glittering overhead and a great silver disc of a moon glowing above the bell tower.

‘Let’s go to the garden,’ Nicholas said, and they walked through the echoing hall where the staircase led up to the dining room, and then out over the crunching gravel to the wooden door in a wall that led to the garden. Inside, he lit a cigarette and exhaled a plume of dark grey smoke into the navy-blue night. They hardly needed to say a word to each other. They knew what was going to happen.

In the darkness of the garden, the richness of fine red wine flowing through them, they turned at last to one another and he pulled her to him, throwing down his cigarette and kissing her hard. He tasted of smoke and honey, and the exhilaration of the kiss, and all its utter rightness, flooded through her. The long, long build-up, the weeks of low-level flirtation, and the mutual craving came together to intoxicate her beyond anything she’d yet known. The clumsy kisses and the silly sweet ineptness of Charlie – long gone, sometime in her second year – and anyone else she’d dallied with . . . all of it was like a necessary prelude to this, the real, grown-up version of what she’d been looking for.

They kissed for long minutes, then Nicholas pulled away and said breathlessly, ‘Let’s go to my room.’

‘Yours?’ He was a dark shadow in front of her eyes, the wind blowing her hair in finely whipping strands over her face.

‘Yes.’ He had a room tucked away from the main quad, the staircase almost invisible if you didn’t know it was there. They had passed it on their way to the garden. She thought of strange little practicalities, things she needed if she was going to stay the night in his room. She wanted it to be right, not a scramble of embarrassment. She was aware that she had cinched herself in with an ugly elasticated support thing and knew she didn’t want him to see it. ‘I’ll go back to my place first.’

‘Really?’ He dropped his smoky velvet-soft lips on hers again. ‘You don’t need to.’

For a moment she was tempted. What did it matter? But then, she realised, she’d been dreaming of this moment, fantasising about it. She wanted it to be right.

‘Okay. I’ll go to mine.’ He kissed her and smiled, she could feel it under her own mouth, then murmured, ‘Don’t be long, will you?’

‘Of course not.’ She left him at the echoing staircase, and walked along the deserted quad, elated and rejoicing. Something wonderful was waiting for her, a glorious adventure was about to begin, one that she had known was coming and had wanted for so long. But now, it was all perfect: the time was right and they both knew it.

She saw no one on her return, though lights were burning in rooms all over the quad where she lived. She sang to herself, almost floating. Too much of the college wine. But I don’t care. I’m glad. At the door to her room, she fished her key from the little evening bag she was carrying, and opened it.

She turned to see Sara stepping out of the shadows. ‘Oh . . . hi! What are you doing here?’

‘Have you had a good time?’ A bitter look twisted Sara’s beautiful face. ‘I don’t suppose any of you missed me.’

‘Of course we did.’ Sara’s presence had a drenching effect on her happiness. Why did things that were fun, light-hearted, innocent, become something else when she was around? It shouldn’t be true, when Sara loved parties and playing so much. But it was. She reached for a white lie. ‘We all talked about you. How much we missed you, and wished you were there.’

‘Really?’ Sara looked wistful, then suddenly harsh. ‘Well, fuck them all. I don’t give a shit! I hate Yates. I’d still be here if it weren’t for him telling me I couldn’t cope. It was his stupid fault. Tosser.’ She gazed at Caitlyn, poised at the door of her room. ‘Shall we go in? Have you still got that vodka?’

‘What?’ Sara pounced like a cat on a fluttering moth. ‘What is it? Are you all carrying on the party somewhere else?’

Caitlyn felt wretched. She was sorry for Sara, sympathetic to the fact that she hadn’t been able to carry on the course. The tutors had told Sara frankly that she couldn’t manage the workload, even if she did the work, which she didn’t. She had been asked politely to leave. She had managed to blag staying in her college room until the end of term, and had been wafting about pretending nothing had happened. But even she couldn’t get an invitation to the finals dinner. This evening was for them, the ones who had gone every day, twice a day, for a tortuous week to sit those examinations, and who had survived the process. Whatever else she’d suffered, Sara hadn’t done that. She couldn’t join that club. It was the first time ever that Caitlyn felt she had something that Sara did not. And whereas in the past Sara had always made the most of any situation to make Caitlyn feel inferior, Caitlyn felt it was the last thing she would ever do to Sara. She couldn’t rub it in, or gloat, however casually. But she wanted to get away from Sara as quickly as she could, before the joy of kissing Nicholas and the delightful anticipation of being with him began to diminish.

‘I’m . . .’ She wanted to lie but had paused too long and now couldn’t. ‘Well . . . I’m going to see Nicholas.’

‘Because . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘I think we’re going to spend the night together. But take the vodka if you want it, I’ll get it for you—’

‘He said he might have a crack at you. I told him you were too intelligent to let him get away with it.’

Caitlyn felt her stomach churn with something nasty. ‘What do you mean – have a crack at me?’

‘Oh, come on, you must have guessed something was up. He’s been playing you. All that coming up after dinner, spending hours talking to you and never making a move.’

‘How did you know about that?’ Caitlyn’s heart was beating faster, her mouth dry. She almost knew the answer already. But she had to hear it.

‘He told me.’ Sara put out a hand to her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I would have said something before now but I assumed you must be wise to him. And just in case you weren’t, I didn’t want to distract you from your revision. I know how important it was to you.’

‘I see.’ She looked down at the wooden floor, noticing all the thick wads of dust that lay between the boards. How long have they been there? They might be Victorian. ‘So what did he say?’

‘Just that he thought you might be up for some fun. No strings. He told me tonight was the last chance to get into your pants.’

Sara went on: ‘He’s been trying his luck for ages. He’s been round at my room nearly every night. He got drunk in the bar last week and he was all over me – ask Robbie, he saw it all. I had to fight him off. Honestly, I almost had him reported for harassment. You’ve only seen one side of him. There’s another side – and not a nice one.’

‘Well, now you’re so diligent and keen on revision, you’re not about any more, are you? So I went down there with Robbie and his pals.’

Caitlyn blinked at her. The image of the rugby boys leaping to Sara’s defence to ward off a lecherous Nick seemed topsy-turvy somehow. But she felt the dull thud of defeat, knowing that if anyone had to pick between her and Sara, they were going to pick Sara. It was always the same. Nick would be no different to any of the others. He thought she, Caitlyn, was desperate enough to be easy, and Sara was the prize he really wanted.

Of course. He was probably laughing at me behind my back all the time. Wondering how long he’d have to butter me up before I succumbed.

‘There’s a party in Robbie’s room,’ Sara said with a shrug. ‘I came over to see if you wanted to go to it. It’s going to be wild.’

‘You’re not still thinking of going to see Nicholas, are you? You must be insane. He’s using you! Come on. Come to Robbie’s. We’ll have fun. Come on.’ Sara took her hand and wheedled. ‘Take off the stupid gown, get the vodka and come and party. For me? I’m only looking out for you, you know.’

But the party was grim and she hated it. After two hours of loud music and hot bodies dancing and drinking, she slipped away, leaving Sara writhing about with Robbie. In the cooler air of the quad, she wondered about going to see Nicholas.

But what’s the point? He wants Sara, not me. And it’s too late now anyway.

So she went back to her room to go to bed. She didn’t see Nicholas again after that, and at the end of term, everybody went their separate ways.