At 6:10 a.m. the singing ended and the bells rang out of Magdalen Tower. People cheered and hugged as Morris folk dancers appeared on the street with bells tied to their elbows and ankles, and drunken students climbed the bridge to jump into the river—only to think twice when they saw the water level. Ezra turned to HP and me.
“This place rules,” he shouted, joining a band of dancers, heel-toeing his way into the line and leaving me alone with HP for the first time in months. It didn’t take us long to curl into a kiss. I arched up and he leaned down and as the crowd bumped us we rediscovered the feel of each other. It felt like a wedding, the kiss on the steps outside the church with a frenzy of bells and cheering. HP broke off to catch his breath—his face was familiar but shy somehow.
“Have you been having a good time here?” He had to yell above the din.
“I love it here,” I said.
“Yeah? I told you so. You sticking around?” I knew he was hedging; he really only had one question.
“Till the end of the semester. Only two more weeks!”
He brushed a dark strand of hair from my forehead. “So, will we . . .” he began, but behind us a new voice cut in.
“Angela Petitjean, as I live and breathe!”
Of course it was Freddy. I’d promised to meet him at the bridge and had forgotten the plan in all the excitement. He wore a tweed blazer and cream chinos, one pant leg tucked into a paisley sock so as not to get bike oil on it. Under his arm was an umbrella.
“I thought I might find you here. That hymnus was glorious, although the tenors lacked conviction.” He glanced at HP. “Who’s this?”
The words tumbled out quickly. “Freddy, this is HP. HP, Freddy.”
A light dawned on Freddy’s face. He held out his right hand, the fingers and thumb closed and rigid. “The guy. What a pleasure. Now tell me, are you named after the sauce or the computer company?”
HP shook Freddy’s hand.
“Or perhaps you’re Harry Potter?”
“I don’t read kids’ books.”
“Not even as a child, I’ll warrant.” Freddy’s head tilted.
HP took a breath to say something but at that moment Ezra arrived back from dancing. “English girls, man, they know how to party. Holy cow. Oh, hey.” He held his right hand up for a high five. “How’s it going?”
Freddy stared at Ezra’s palm.
“Ez, this is Freddy.” I lowered Ezra’s arm for him. “He’s a biochemist.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, dude. But I guess somebody has to be.”
HP chuckled.
“I’m taking these guys to go get breakfast on Cowley Road,” I hurried. “You want to join us, Freddy?”
“I’d be delighted.” Freddy’s eyes glittered towards HP. “After all, celebrity guests deserve the best Oxford experience. Angela and I can fill you in on what’s what.”
Freddy bowed his head and linked his arm through mine, pushing us forwards into the throng while the boys followed behind. When I strained back through a gap over Freddy’s shoulder, I could see HP trudging with his hands in his jean pockets while Ezra wove in and out of groups of long-haired girls drinking champagne straight from the bottle.
Café Coco was teeming even though it was barely seven in the morning. We slid into the last available booth. The room was divided into two halves, split by an art deco bar where a sleepy-eyed waiter lolled a cocktail shaker close to his right ear. Behind the bar was a sculpture of a man sitting in a large porcelain bath. Our table was bare, save for a porcelain egg cup filled with rough clumps of brown and white sugar. While HP and Ezra stared at Freddy, I peered for ages at the specials on the blackboard, glancing back now and again at each of their uneasy faces.
“Mimosa, Ange?” piped Freddy after a long pause. “I think it’d be rude not to.”
“I’m in. Guys, do you want one?”
“Is it a beer?” asked Ezra. “It better be.”
Freddy’s cell phone began to ring in his blazer pocket. “It’s champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice.” He rummaged for his phone and stared down at the number on the screen as he wriggled out of the booth. “Do excuse me, chaps. Back in a mo’.”
We watched him scurry to the back of the café and push through the doors towards the bathrooms.
HP pulled his hoodie off over his head, taking three-quarters of his T-shirt with it. He rearranged himself but wouldn’t look at me. “You two seem close.”
“He’s my friend. He’s been kind to me.”
“Oh, I bet he has.” HP nodded over at the waitress, and when she arrived at the table he ordered three beers. “And what’s good to eat? Everything you have is made with goat’s cheese.”
“You don’t like goat’s cheese?” She curled a strand of blond hair for him, jutting a hip out and slanting her chrome tray against it. “It’s really smooth and creamy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just bring us the beers, okay? I’ll help my friends with the menu.”
She returned a few moments later, looking only at HP as she slid the bottles onto the table.
He took his and raised it. “Here’s to the real people.”
The three of us clinked.
Freddy came back from the washrooms but didn’t sit down again. His nose wrinkled at the sight of us drinking, because he found distasteful either the beer or the fact we were drinking it without glassware.
“A word, if I may.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “It was very nice meeting you, gentlemen. Enjoy the mother country; I’m sure Ange will show you the best bits.”
HP and Ezra tilted their bottles to him with their mouths pressed closed.
Once we were huddled in the yellow doorway of the café, Freddy gripped my wrist.
“Do you seriously expect me to believe that that is the guy?” He threw furtive glances back at HP, who was in the booth with Ezra, both of them laughing. “Angela, they’re . . . they’re children! You’re miles beyond them.”
“What’s it to you?”
He blinked at me for a few seconds and let go of me, quietly hooking his umbrella over his forearm.
“That call was from Keble College. They have our May Ball tickets.” Freddy adjusted the tuck of his handkerchief in the pocket of his blazer. “I took the liberty of ordering two more for your . . . friends. I assume they’re staying? I’m off to pick the tickets up now.”
“Thanks.”
He sighed and reached out for my forearm again, gentler this time. “You can do what you wish, of course. Romance-wise, I mean.”
“You think you know me, Freddy?” I pushed forwards off the window and pulled the café door open. “I’m miles beyond you, too.”
I watched as the hurt unfurled in his eyes like squid ink through water. He turned on his heel and clipped briskly away down Dawson Street.