‘Sure. Sylvie, will you turn it down?’

Sylvie flounced across the room, her tiny flared skirt lifting as she went. Relieved of her embrace Oliver got up and stared blankly down into Canterbury Quad.

‘Bloody Oxford.’ He gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘Not that I should worry. My tutor’s threatening to get me sent down. Something to do with essays. Really, does he imagine that anyone gives a fuck about essays? Schools in June, people keep saying. Like a stuck record. Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m off on Saturday. Going ski-ing with some people. Not that I care all that much for snow and schnapps, but nothing can be any worse than staying here.’ Chloe heard a new, metallic note in his voice. The lines between his eyes had deepened and there were new ones showing at the sides of his mouth. She was trying to say in private, can we talk in private, when the door slammed open again. There were two young men in grimy white shirts with hair slicked back from pale, unhealthy faces.

‘Are you coming, Oliver,’ one of them asked, ‘or not?’

Chloe shrank back. There was something threatening about Oliver’s visitors. ‘Yeah. Coming now. Going to London for a party, or something,’ he explained. ‘Sorry to have to go right away.’ Recollecting something, he rubbed his fingers into his eyes and then pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Shit, you wanted to talk. Is it something quick?’

She looked from face to face, vacant Sylvie and the impatient, faintly hostile faces of Oliver’s odd friends. Oliver himself was hovering near the door, clearly anxious to be off.

‘No,’ she said coldly. ‘It’s nothing quick, this time. But it doesn’t matter. Enjoy the party, Oliver.’

He frowned after her. ‘Look, I’ll be back in … oh well, a couple of days. Come to dinner.’

But Chloe was already out of earshot, counting the steps down as she went and then out into Canterbury Quad. She walked quickly, as if she was hurrying to keep an appointment, but on Folly Bridge she stopped short. The big square house was rosy-red in the sunshine, with the light reflecting off the windows into her eyes. The sight of it suddenly brought back her early days in Oxford. Supposedly here to study in the warm glow from her desk lamp, meeting new challenges, making changes in herself.

Liar.

Nothing had changed. Chloe’s moment of self-appraisal was savage. You ran straight from Leo to another man, and you even had to choose one better at self-delusion than yourself. Everything else has just been a smokescreen for a man-hunt. And now look at yourself. Pregnant by a drunken boy you barely know and care less for. And still alone.

Fool.

A sudden wave of determination washed over Chloe. She squared her shoulders and ran down the steps to the island.