“Well, that just makes you a fucking Marxist, then, doesn’t it!” the other man crowed, ignoring the interjection.
“I’m heading back,” Hannah said, raising her voice. “Sorry I didn’t get your pint, I couldn’t get served.”
“No worries,” Ryan said. “Look, Rich, if you want to call basic redistributive fiscal policy Marxism—”
“I’ll, um, come with you,” Hugh said to Hannah, rather diffidently. “Walk you over and all that.”
Hannah smiled at him gratefully. Since her encounter with Neville in the cloisters, she had found herself glancing over her shoulder more and more at night. Running footsteps behind her set her heart racing and her adrenaline spiking, and since Dr. Myers had announced his intention of speaking to Neville about the “allegations,” she had lived in real fear that he might have done so, with or without her permission. The possibility that Neville might seek her out to ask her what the hell she was playing at, accusing him of assault, was all too real. The idea of having someone to walk her was immensely comforting.
“If you’re sure then, yes, please, Hugh,” she said. Hugh picked up his jacket from the bench and together they forged their way towards the exit.
They got there at the same time as a group of girls, and Hugh immediately stood back, opening the door for the first with a little bow.
“Yeah, all right, mate,” the girl said as she passed through. “I do have arms, you know. Christ, this isn’t the 1920s anymore.”
They pushed past Hugh, laughing, and disappeared across the quad.
“Thank you, Hugh,” Hannah said apologetically as Hugh held the door open for her. The air outside was pleasantly cool and clear after the fug of the bar.
“You’re welcome,” Hugh said a little sadly, and Hannah felt a sudden wave of protective anger wash over her. Hugh was so nice. He had been the only person to notice she didn’t want to walk back alone, and the only person who had been any real support in organizing tonight, in spite of the fact that April certainly wasn’t his best friend. In fact, she had always treated him with a kind of amused disdain, bossing him around, making him fetch and carry and generally do her bidding. And Hugh—Hugh just put up with it, with that good-natured smile. And so what if his courtesies were old-fashioned—it was his way of trying to relate to girls. Not everyone could have Will’s easy charm, or pull off Ryan’s goading banter. Holding a door open was hardly the crime of the century.
She laced her arm through his, squeezing it affectionately as they began to trace the familiar route back along the graveled path of Old Quad. It was hard to tell in the dim light from the moon and the lamps dotted around the quad, but she thought Hugh looked tired and drawn.
“How are you doing? Are you okay?”
“Oh, you know. All right,” Hugh said. He gave a little deprecating shrug. “I have to be honest, I’m pretty stressed about the prelim results. I’m fairly sure I fluffed the paper I took after April’s first night.”
“You are?” Hannah was surprised. She thought of Will saying Hugh was the brainiest chap in our year. “But—look, I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing. Everyone always thinks they flunked until they get the results. It’ll be fine.”
“Will it?” Hugh’s face twisted. He looked, Hannah thought with shock, as if he was trying to keep back tears. “You know they don’t let you fail medicine. If you don’t keep up, you’re politely asked to leave. This year… well, it’s been a bit of a shock, to be honest. Carne wasn’t exactly tolerant of slackers, but it felt like the masters were on your side, helping you to keep up. Pelham… it just feels like you’re struggling alone, afraid of letting everyone down. Do you know what I mean?”
Hannah said nothing. She wasn’t sure what she could say. The truth was, she didn’t feel that way, and she hadn’t found the jump nearly as hard as she had feared. She had never felt particularly like anyone at Dodsworth was on her side. Sure, they wanted her to do well, but she was just one out of hundreds of students in her year. And she certainly didn’t feel scared of letting anyone down. They were just delighted she had gotten this far.
Of all the group, Hannah thought as they rounded the corner, she probably knew Hugh the least. Brash, witty Ryan; dry, sarcastic Emily—she had known them for less than a year, and yet it felt like a lifetime. She had heard their worn anecdotes, she knew their catchphrases, she had heard about their friends from home and their first times and their nightmare exes. With April she shared the easy intimacy only roommates can, the person who sees you first thing in the morning, who hears you groaning over your essay, who knows when you’ve got period pains, who sees you swigging milk from the carton.