She threw back her head and laughed. He had meant it as a joke, yes, but he hadn’t thought it was quite so funny.
‘Oh, Christopher,’ she said, and sighed before fixing him again with her mocking eyes. She leant towards him and looked up through her eyelashes. ‘Between you and me, I think Adam likes telling people what to do. Dangerous charm, that one. Still, Alison’s over it now.’ She motioned to a group of people – women, actually, about eight or so. Christopher recognised Alison and also Sophie Hampton-Something-or-other, Adam’s so-called sex squeeze. He had a date with her the following evening; Christopher remembered him talking about it just before the holidays. He wondered if Alison knew about Sophie and vice versa; wondered just how many women Adam had slept with already, how many he was sleeping with at the present time. It hardly seemed fair.
‘That’s our collective,’ Angie was saying. ‘Safety in numbers and all that. Anyone who fancies a drink just has to wait in the foyer at eight.’
‘So you all walk together?’ He winced. State the obvious, why don’t you, Christopher.
‘That’s the idea, although Sophie’s a bit of a one for going off on her own, silly cow. It’s really going home alone after dark you have to watch. It’s not great coming in a big group, but it’s better than being a prisoner.’
‘Of course.’ He nodded. ‘Listen, can I buy you a drink? I mean, is that allowed?’
‘You’re so funny.’ She did not mean amusing, that much was clear, though she spoke, he thought, with affection. She met his eye and raised her eyebrows, and again he had the impression she was drawing him into a conspiracy of sorts, or a trap. She was pretty, very pretty actually, not unlike Phyllis in her colouring and in the indescribable lightness she had about her. ‘Go on then,’ she said, ‘as it’s you.’
He bought two pints of Tetley’s and brought them back to where Angie waited for him. She had lit a cigarette and offered him one, which he took, to be polite. They talked about how their first years were going so far, about their Easter holidays. Christopher remembered David’s advice and asked as many questions as he could, sometimes thinking so hard of the next question that he forgot to listen to the answer. Angie had been home in Blackpool for the whole of Easter but had come back that morning. She made no mention of the disaster that had occurred between them, and he remembered the way she had pocketed her glasses and pressed her warm hand to his face.
‘So the streets are no safer but you women have found a way,’ he said, but the words sounded clumsy even as he said them, maybe because he knew where he was leading to – trying to lead to, at least.
She shook her head. ‘I wish they’d hurry up and catch him. We’re terrified, all of us. Alison’s not sleeping. That one in January…’
‘It’s a terrible business all right. And the police don’t seem to be any nearer.’
She met his gaze and shook her head. ‘They seem to be chasing leads, but they’re all dead ends.’
‘Angie,’ he said, his heart thudding in his chest. ‘I know you have your group, but I wondered if you’d let me walk you home?’ He pulled out his jacket and showed her the lining. ‘I’m unarmed, as you can see. But I suppose you’re organised with the others… forget I asked.’
‘I’d love you to,’ she said. ‘You’re all right, you see. I know you – you’re safe. Hold on there while I let the girls know. God knows, there’s enough of them.’
He watched her wander over to the group. From a distance, it looked as though they were angry with her. Alison glanced over and appeared to scrutinise him for a moment before her face relaxed. She had recognised him, apparently, and gave him a wave. Unsure of how to respond, he crossed the bar to say hello. He thought that might be the normal thing to do under the circumstances but was not sure.
‘This is Christopher,’ said Angie. ‘He’s trustworthy. He’s walked me home before.’
‘You’re Adam’s room-mate, aren’t you?’ It was Sophie who had spoken, through a cloud of smoke. She sounded like an actress or a princess or something. She was blonde, which he had not expected, with pale blue eyes. He had imagined her with black hair for some reason, and red-painted lips.
‘I am, yes.’ He tried to smile, felt like he should apologise or something, but she was still staring at him, her eyelids low, her head tilted back a little.
‘He didn’t say you were so good-looking,’ she said.
‘I… ah…’
She threw her gaze to Angie. ‘Lucky, lucky lady, Angie.’
‘Come on,’ said Angie, taking Christopher’s arm and rolling her eyes at Sophie. ‘Don’t let her intimidate you. She eats men for breakfast, lunch and dinner, that one.’
Sophie laughed. ‘Don’t forget supper, darling. Especially supper. Goodbye.’ She waved with only the tips of her fingers. ‘Goodbye, Christopher, darling.’
It was a relief to turn away and follow Angie out of the pub. He would walk her right up to the door of her halls, he decided, and give her a friendly hug. It would be an investment.
‘They were not happy,’ Angie said as they stepped outside. ‘But I told them you could be trusted.’
‘I’m harmless,’ he said, and smiled. ‘No victims so far, at least.’
As they walked up the Otley Road, their fingers brushed against one another’s once, twice, and on the third time, he took her hand. She did not refuse him. Now that they were walking, he found it easier to talk to her, and he told her about his holiday, about going cockling with the twins on the sands at Newborough Beach.
‘You have to wiggle your toes about in the soft muddy part by the sea,’ he said, delighting in her groans of disgust. ‘And when you feel something sharp or hard, you reach in, and if you’re lucky, that’s a cockle.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ she said. ‘So these are your brothers?’
‘My dad and my twin brothers. They’re terrors, those boys. They’re good kids though. We’re a very close family. They’re my world.’
‘Aw,’ she said. ‘You are sweet.’
Angie suggested they go the back way this time, turning right at the Three Horseshoes and heading up Weetwood Lane.
‘It’s quicker this way,’ she said. ‘But a lot quieter. It leads all the way to the back of Oxley. I wouldn’t have trusted you this way last time.’
The shops dwindled, became houses. After fifteen minutes or so, they reached a sandstone wall on the right, the woodland beyond made spooky by the dark. They crossed the road and headed up a lane. He recognised the sports fields, this time to their right.
‘Gosh,’ he said. ‘We’re here already.’
They had walked a hundred yards or so when Angie stopped.
‘We could stop here for a moment,’ she said, nodding towards a sandstone ginnel to her left. She let go of his hand and went a little way in, the darkness all but swallowing her. He followed, making for her dark outline against the blackened bricks. She took hold of his hand once more and pulled him towards her.