Dermot went back to the staffroom, and was persuaded to join Jonty roving around the fete, chatting to the parents and students he knew from the stalls. He saw Shona doing the same, and when he accidentally caught her eye, her face again gave nothing away. Watching her slim figure in the crowd, Dermot felt a knot in his stomach. Shona was offering him nothing more than the cheap, shining hope of a tawdry affair - to be with him in secret. He almost wished that was all he wanted; it would make things so much less complicated. But he knew that he would never have started anything with Shona if he didn’t secretly hope and believe that she could eventually leave her husband and be with him properly, honestly, out in the daylight where everyone could see.

He realized bitterly that he was no different from any mistress of a married man. He didn’t just want to sleep with Shona, he wanted to wake up with her and read the Sunday papers with her, and listen to her quiet, clever comments and funny asides. He didn’t just want to sleep with Shona; he wanted to do everything with her.

But driving lessons might just be a start.

Becoming Accustomed to a Face

OMAR WAS WORKING in the elegant arched library of the Radcliffe Camera. He didn’t need to refer to anything at the Rad Cam itself; he’d brought his own notes and his own books borrowed from the faculty libraries. He’d just fancied a change of scene from the Bod and the college library; the Rad Cam was one of the few buildings as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside. He put down his biro and looked dreamily at the delicate stonework on the pillars. Suddenly, he felt warm, dry hands over his eyes, a familiar smell of soap and biscuits. ‘Penny for them,’ whispered an amused voice in hushed tones.

’They’re not that cheap,’ he whispered back.

Jim removed his hands, and crouched grinning by the side of Omar’s desk. ‘I know how cheap mine are, but then I’m an old tart,’ he said with deliberate campness. Looking at his watch, he said in his normal voice, at an inappropriate volume, ‘Sod this for a lark. Let’s go for a drink.’

The students on the desks around Omar looked at Jim with distaste, and one of them even shushed him. Jim looked at her rudely and shushed her back, rolling his eyes with unjustified indignation. Stifling a laugh, Omar got up, leaving his books and papers, and ushered Jim out. As they left the building, both Omar and Jim burst out laughing with the easy familiarity of friends who found everything funny as long as they were together. ‘That was rude,’ he chided Jim, when they calmed down.