Honey(20)

“No sense.” Yrsa shakes her head.

“That’s disgusting.” Yasmin folds her arms across her coat.

“Yeah, no, Hugh’s a massive Tory.”

Yrsa was quick to learn that Yasmin has a moral code as rigid as her makeup routine. She, luckily, does not suffer from such afflictions.

“Why are so many men such arseholes? Can’t trust anything they say.” Yasmin looks really quite sad.

“Caleb still hasn’t replied?”

She shakes her head.

“He’s not worth it.” Yrsa stops in front of a large wooden gate. It’s Yasmin’s halls.

“We should get a drink soon.” Yasmin gives her a hug.

“We will.”

“Poor people are poor because they don’t work hard enough.” Yasmin repeats it to herself as she opens the gate.

Yrsa laughs, waits until Yasmin’s turned the corner, and checks her phone. There it is, the “let’s do something fun?” text.


What do you have in mind?

Hugh replies instantly.

Meet me at neville’s court. got any more booze?

Can get wine. 10 mins

Make it 20 mins. I’m freezing

Yrsa spies a Voi down the street. If she’s quick then she can change and won’t have to buy wine.


Don’t keep me waiting

She wonders how different the sex will be now he’s had all this time to practice.

A scooter ride, change of clothes, piss, and spray of perfume later she’s about to take a bottle of Pinot Noir from Ida’s cupboard when the kitchen door opens.

“Yrsa?” Ida’s wearing nothing but a T-shirt. “I’m thirsty.”

Yrsa, standing by the sink, pours her a glass of water.

“What time is it?” Ida has her hand up to protect her eyes.

“It’s…” Yrsa takes her phone from her dress pocket. “Quarter past one.”

“You just got back?” Ida asks.

“Yeah, was having a snack before bed.” Yrsa in no way wants Ida to know that she’s about to go sleep with Hugh White.

“Don’t eat my peanut butter.” Ida turns, taking her glass of water back to bed.

Yrsa counts to ten before taking the wine. She’ll walk, keep him waiting.



* * *





“Took your time.” Hugh has changed into a red jumper. He leans against a wall, hands in his pockets. “Got the goods?”

Yrsa waves the bottle.

“Come on then.”

“Where we going?”

“Surprise.” He walks ahead of her.

They’re beneath the Wren Library, between its stone pillars and arches. Come ball season they serve oysters and champagne in these cloisters.

Hugh uses a key to unlock a small, almost hidden door. He holds it open.

“Where did you get that?” Yrsa feels the need to whisper.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

They’re in a tight, cold stairway. “This way.” He steps over a crate to ascend the stairs. Yrsa’s grateful for her trainers.

Unlocking another door, they’re out on the roof. There’s glass, like that of a conservatory, slanted and refracting the reading lights below. They stand on a stone walkway that runs the perimeter of the building.

“This way.” Hugh is excited and walking quickly. “Isn’t it cool.” Stopping at the corner he leans over the parapet watching the river. “Cambridge at its best.” He stretches his arms out.

A weeping willow, the spires of John’s. Yrsa can’t understand how a place can be so enchanting, and so drab.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” She joins Hugh, resting her elbows on the parapet. “Bring all your dates up here?”

“Is this a date?” He smiles, shaking his hair from his eyes.

As an answer Yrsa places the bottle of wine between them. She unscrews the cap.

“You didn’t bring glasses?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell me to bring glasses.”

She tucks her hands into the sleeves of her coat and out of the wind, taking the bottle doublehanded.

“I only bring special people up here. Come on.” And he swings his leg up and over.

“What you doing?” She steps back.

“It’s more fun if you sit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Are you scared?” Hugh makes himself comfortable, legs and black brogues over the edge.

“Scared?” Yrsa gives Hugh the bottle, accepting his hand in help. The stone is cold to sit on, the edge high.

“It’s peaceful, no?” The red of his jumper gives him a boldness against the sky.

“It is.” Yrsa is not yet as comfortable as him.

He drinks. “Yrsa, you know I…” He drinks again. “I…liked your dress.”

“You, liked, my dress?”

“Yeah, tonight it was nice…no, it’s nice but not what I wanted to say.” He drinks.

Yrsa keeps quiet.

“I’ve kind of always fancied you, you know. Like, since Freshers.”

She laughs, she can’t help it. Over the years Hugh’s dated lots of girls. All of them brunette, petite, and named Felicity or Francesca.