The Choice by Monica Belle Page A

drive.’
    ‘I’m certain you shouldn’t cycle and, besides, I have a proposition for you.’
    ‘Ah, I thought you might. Chamber business?’
    ‘Nothing so mundane, and not something for common ears.’
    He had taken my arm, a gesture so old fashioned I felt sure it was affected, but it wasn’t intrusive and so I let him. We’d reached the riverbank and I let him steer me upstream, along a well-worn path that faded gradually as we came out among fields and little copses of willow and hawthorn. He didn’t speak again until we were completely alone.
    ‘As I was saying before lunch, you belong here. You are a part of the real Oxford, or rather of the ideal Oxford, and you are also the most spirited, the most sporting and quite the prettiest girl at university.’
    ‘No I’m not, and you know it.’
    ‘Not at all. Some might beat you if you were to compete in some tawdry seaside beauty contest, it’s true, but you are fire where they are mere embers.’
    I wanted to tell him he was drunk and that I wasn’t that easily flattered, but I was too curious and no more sober.
    ‘I’m little Miss Perfect, but what are you after?’
    ‘Very well, you have forced my hand. I shall tell all. The Hawkubites have finally managed to find somewhere to hold our Michaelmas dinner; a new restaurant in Goring-on-Thames, the owners of which are quite delightfully innocent. I would like to invite you as my personal guest.’
    ‘I thought the Hawkubites was a male-only society?’
    ‘It is, and has been for nearly three hundred years, but female guests have attended on a few occasions. It’s a great honour, as I’m sure you’ll agree, although naturally it comes with certain provisos attached.’
    Even drunk I had begun to smell a rat. ‘What provisos exactly?’
    ‘Oh, nothing you can’t cope with, just keeping to the dress code, enjoying yourself, being a good sport, and of course, keeping what happens to yourself. Stephen, in particular, must never know, as I’m sure you’ll agree. The poor boy would only be jealous.’
    ‘And the dress code is? A school uniform perhaps? A saucy French maid’s outfit? Or just stark naked? And what’s for afters, blow-jobs all round?’
    ‘Ah ha, I detect from your tone that you are not keen on the idea, in which case I have been authorised to offer you a thousand pounds.’
    I’d been meaning to tease him, playing along for a while before turning him down on his outrageous offer, but he had gone too far. We were still arm in arm, and with one quick jerk I had detached myself. One sharp kick to his ankle and he was off balance. A push and he was clawing at the air as he fell backwards, his face set in a truly comic expression of panic and surprise. The bank was about five feet high, above open water, which he hit with a splash, and disappeared briefly beneath the surface before coming up spitting muddy water and flailing for support. He did not look at all happy, and I decided to beat a hasty retreat.
    I had reacted instinctively, and as soon as I’d calmed down and sobered up began to worry about the consequences of what I’d done. Fortunately Giles proved too much of a politician to be spiteful, and even sent me a bunch of flowers, which was waiting outside my room when I got back from rowing. The note attached was an apology, saying that he had misjudged me and asking my forgiveness. I didn’t believe a word of it, but decided to accept on the grounds that if the story got out it was sure to do me more harm than good. I also decided not to tell Stephen, both because Giles could simply deny everything or claim that I’d come on to him and because it wasn’t something I wanted to share.
    That was the sensible choice, but it didn’t help with my feelings. Giles had effectively asked me to prostitute myself, and he had to have thought there was a fair chance I’d accept. I tried to tell myself that it was simply a result of his bizarre, public-school attitude towards women, but