Two

Iran into Finn in February, my sixth month there, when I’d been hungover and on my way to my third interview that week for a part-time job.

I didn’t particularly need a job; the stipend that was deposited into my bank account each month from persons unknown was enough to feed, clothe, and water me (and by water, I mean get me drunk). But most of the people I knew here had part-time jobs of some sort, and it felt like something I should do if only to stop me drinking every night.

I’d wanted a job in the second-hand book store in Millner Close, but they weren’t hiring, so I left them my CV and expanded my options. I’d already been turned down by a popular Italian restaurant for not having any waiting experience and the local Whole Foods because they really needed someone who could cover Thursdays – which was the only day I couldn’t commit to. All in all, the job hunt wasn’t going great.

“Jude! Hey, Jude!” A voice had shouted from the bottom of the steps into the Bodleian while I’d pulled up the map up on my phone for the fifth time that day. (I’d gotten it down from around a dozen since I got here.) I’d glanced up to see a tall, good-looking guy leaping up the steps two at a time.

“Er, Hi, hello?” I squinted.

“Finlay,” he pointed at himself. “Finn. Finn Haldane.”

The name sounded only vaguely familiar. I wondered if he was in one of my tutorials.

“We met at Caspien’s birthday?”

As usual, I started at the sound of Caspien’s name. I’d only been to one of his birthdays and that …

“The distant half cousin,” he added helpfully before my thoughts had caught up.

I blinked again and looked him over.

“Yeah, sure, I remember now.” And I did. But the guy standing in front of me was not the slouching, skinny, brace-wearing, glasses-wearing boy I remembered from two years ago. “Did you do something to your hair?”

He threw his head back and laughed. His teeth were two perfectly straight white lines. His laugh was warm and rounded.

“Sorry, I forget sometimes how different I look.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” I scratched the back of my neck, mortified. Had a brace really changed his face that much?

“I’ve seen you a few times now and kept wondering if I should say hello,” Finlay said, shifting a little on his feet.

“You should have.” I gave him a friendly smile. “So, what have you been up to?” Have you seen him? Is what I really wanted to ask.

“Christ, it’s been wild since Cas’s birthday.”

And it had by the sound of it. He told me how he’d spent last spring and summer in Namibia helping to build a school. How he’d been held at gunpoint. How he’d caught some African digestive disease and almost died. It had changed him a bit, he said. I could only nod, impressed, mainly since I’d done nothing but sit home and cry for the last year.

He was far more personable than I remembered him. Truthfully, I barely remembered him at all. But then, Caspien had been in the room the last time I’d seen Finn, and I understood now how I’d rarely noticed anything else when he was in my line of sight.

Now, he looked good. Dark auburn hair, tall with broad swimmer’s shoulders, and whiskey-coloured eyes which at that moment sparkled with warmth.

“So, how you settling in? It’s a pretty cool place, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, good. I’m enjoying it so far.”

“What college?”

“Magdalen.”

He nodded. “Let me guess: English and Classics?”

“Is it that obvious?” I laughed.

“Ha, no. Once I have the college, I can usually work out the rest by looking. It’s actually like some weird party trick I have.”

“That go down well at parties here?”

“No, actually.” He laughed, and I joined in.

“Look, I’m actually on my way to an interview now.” I glanced at my phone. I was doing okay for time, but Cas’s name hadn’t come up yet, and I assumed the longer I hung around him, the more chances of that decreased, and I couldn’t think about him now, before an interview.

“Ah, cool, where?”

“Uh, Page Plant on Cooke Street.”

“Oh, no way, I have a mate who works there, Abbie – Abigail. She’s like a dep manager or something.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I can put a good word in for you if you like.” He looked like he was doing that already.

“Oh, right, cool. I guess it wouldn’t do any harm.”

“What’s your number?” he asked, still typing.

I rhymed it off, and a second later, my phone rang, vibrating in my palm.

“Cool, well now you have mine. We should grab a drink sometime?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” I’d already begun walking away, so I turned to say over my shoulder. “Give me a shout.”

I was offered the job at Page Plant by the owner, Eddie; short, sharply dressed, and barely ever around. He had an assistant manager called Seve who ran the place and seemed to like me straight away, and Abbie who deputised for Seve when she wasn’t at Uni. It was a small trendy little ‘bistro with books’ at the end of Cooke Street, and they’d said they could be super flexible with hours – everyone except Seve was a student. I wasn’t sure if Finn had had anything to do with my getting the job, but the day after I got it, he’d texted to invite me out for a ‘congratulatory drink.’

I’d said no, mainly because I’d been trying to finish up a paper due that week, but also partly because I was afraid. Afraid of Finn knowing about Cas, probably. Of him knowing how stupid I’d been, of him confirming all the things about Caspien I should have known.

A part of me wondered if Finn might be able to offer some new perspective on things. I didn’t think he knew Cas well, but I thought he may still have had some unique insight that would help me make sense of things. Who Cas was. Why he’d done it. At the time, the whys of it all were more important than anything else.

I’d tried to talk to Gideon. I’d spent months after Cas left trying to get Gideon to help me understand. But Gideon seemed to want me to know only three things: how inevitable all of this was, how getting our hearts broken was intrinsic to building character, and how well Caspien was doing in Boston without me.

He was never cruel in his delivery of this imparted wisdom, but neither did he take any care to spare my feelings. (Oh, they’re spending Christmas in the Alps! They’ve gotten a cat! A Siberian Forest! Dreadfully fluffy! Did you see Xavier’s latest case? The actress who’s suing the film studio – apparently, it’s cut and dry. He’ll make millions from it.)

He’d say these things as though they were friends of mine who’d moved away and I’d normally offer one-word answers until I couldn’t take anymore and say something like: “Can we stop talking about them, Gideon, please?” To which he’d reply, gasping, “Oh, goodness, yes, of course, how indelicate of me.”

I hadn’t responded yet to his last email. I’d only glanced over it: he’d wished me a happy birthday and told me that there was a card and small gift on the way to Oxford for me, described some minor restoration work he was having done to the first floor of the house, and then, to part, a few lines informing me that Cas had passed some important exam at Lervairè with flying colours.

I knew for all Gideon’s talk, that Cas rarely called or wrote to him. The fact was a lot of these updates came via Blackwell himself, and this hurt Gideon. But still, he sounded proud of Cas’s achievements.

And I was proud too until I realised I had no right to be anything of the sort.

The following Friday, Finn invited me out again for a drink. He was with some people from Pembroke – Finn was studying Environmental Research there – and his housemate, Alex. Bast was having dinner with family who were in London and who’d travelled up to see him. Irish Conn was ill, and Nika had a late paper due.

Ultimately, I said yes because I needed to get drunk, and I didn’t like the idea of doing it alone. In the end, I didn’t reply to his text; I just searched the bar he’d told me to meet him in – a wine bar on Little Clarendon Street – threw on my nicest shirt, dragged my fingers through my hair, and pulled my dorm door closed behind me. Finn was in a loud group seated right at the back of Marcello’s, four girls and three guys, including him. As I did the numbers, I wondered if this was why he was so keen for me to come. He was one guy short.

Finn was deep in conversation with a tall Asian guy who looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine. Skin polished like glass, black horn-rimmed glasses, and wearing a long Burberry overcoat.

A glance around the others settled me a little. They looked normal. Like students, at least. I stood like a dick for a few minutes wondering the smoothest way to introduce myself when Finn looked up. His face lit up, and he waved me over.

“Alcotttttt! You made it!” He shouted as though I’d dragged myself away from something critical to be here and as though Alcotttttt were a nickname he’d called me since forever. Which, as the others turned to inspect me, suspicious and unimpressed, I appreciated.

“Guys, this is Jude, he’s a friend. Shift over, Pete.” He pointed at a guy who looked to be about 6 ft 8 sitting down.

I slid in next to Pete, who lifted his chin in greeting. Finlay went around the table, telling me everyone’s names – names that all seemed to end in ‘Y’s: Maisy, Poppy, Olly, Mary, and Cally. He introduced the guy next to him as Alex, the housemate, who was even more intimidating from this angle, and added my order to the next round Olly was standing to go get.

A half hour or so later of nodding politely and drinking too quickly, I was at the bar when I felt someone squeeze into the space next to me.

“Stick it on our tab,” Finn said as the server placed a pint of Guinness down in front of me. “And two shots of tequila.”

I groaned. “This is not going to end well.”

“We’ve not even started yet.” Finlay grinned. “So, you ever hear from our favourite cuntiest cousin these days?”

My entire body went stiff, and I kept my eye on my pint. I’d been expecting it, obviously, but had been momentarily distracted by the glittering newness of strangers.

“He’s not my cousin,” I said lightly.

“No, no, he isn’t,” said Finn. “Bet you’d still fuck him if he were though.”

My head whipped around, eyes widening.

Finn was smiling mischievously. “Oh, come on. I saw the way you looked at him.” He made a weird eye rolling face. Everything you feel is in your eyes.

Heat crept up my neck.

“So, did you know about him and Blackwell?” He lifted his own drink and took a gulp. “You ever see him about? Apparently, it was all very quick.”

Caspien’s back arched, the dark gold tan of Xavier’s hand. A sharp pain in my chest.

I lifted the small golden glass of tequila the server had just put down and knocked it back in one.

My throat burned hot and resentful. I avoided directly answering the question. “Guess it was pretty obvious now I look back.”

“Fucking Cas.” Finn laughed. He was a little drunk, his cheeks pink and eyes heavy from alcohol. “I mean, what does a guy like Blackwell – hot, smart and successful – see in that little prick, seriously? Like okay, I get that he’s some loaded tragic orphan – although, maybe his dad is out there somewhere, who knows – but it’s not as if Blackwell’s into him for the money.”

Finn had no idea at this point that I also had a ‘tragic orphan thing’ going on.

“And I get that he’s got the perfect bone structure and the moody supermodel thing.” He shook his head. “But he’s just a truly awful person, you know? I hated him my entire life. Probably still do. I don’t know.”

“Why’d you go to his birthday then?” I asked. “If you hated him?”

“Well, Gideon invited me.”

“And what about Gideon?” I asked.

Finn looked confused by my question. “What do you mean?”

“Just that, well, he brought Cas up. If Cas is this truly awful person, then maybe part of that is Gideon’s fault?”

I felt a little guilty saying it. I liked Gideon. I wasn’t sure I trusted him, but I liked him insofar as he’d been there for me before and just after Cas tore out my heart and disappeared from my life. But I saw suddenly a moment of opportunity to learn more about the two spectres who haunted Deveraux House. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to find out about Gideon, but it was novel to speak to someone about them who wasn’t Luke. Someone who might be able to offer me some small sliver of why.

I ordered two more shots while Finn pondered an answer to my question.

“Well, Cas spent his life in boarding schools,” he began. “And those places are a hotbed of fuckery. So I’m not sure Gideon really brought him up so much as dealt with the legalities of his existence, you know? Signed the appropriate paperwork, made sure he didn’t murder anyone.” Here, he gave me a pointed look. “Took him for dental check-ups, made sure he ate and drank, and was generally healthy. Life admin, that sort of thing. We all know Gideon should never have been landed with a kid, not with his issues. My parents say he’s never been quite right and then there was the stuff with Seraphina and the guy who fucked him over. I don’t really know much about any of it as it was before my time, but it was messy.” Finn seemed to visibly shudder.

“Does anyone know anything about Cas’s dad?” It felt as though I was stepping into forbidden territory. I could imagine Cas’s outrage at the question even in his absence. At my daring to ask it.

Finn looked at me, flushed face turning thoughtful. “Someone does. Gideon probably. But he’s been a hot mess for years.”

“What happened with him and the guy?” I had Gideon’s version, but I wanted Finn’s.

“The way I heard it, he fell hard for someone when he was in his twenties. This guy stole a fortune from him and disappeared, and he had to go back to his father with his tail between his legs and beg forgiveness. He’s never gotten over it. Imagine a woman ditched at the altar and the guy running off with her money; that’s Gideon,” Finn said with a note of derision. It was the only time I ever saw something cruel in him.

Something protective flared up inside me. Some kind of empathy for the broken-hearted. For those of us who could never quite get over that first deep break. I understood it painfully well. Perhaps it was why Gideon and I had bonded as we had these last months.

“I’m guessing you’ve never had your heart broken then.” I glared at him. “Must be nice.”

Finn seemed to sober a little, understanding seeping into his eyes.

“Shit,” he said. “Fucking Caspien. Sorry, man.”

I nodded and knocked back my tequila.

“Thank fuck he isn’t my type,” Finn groaned as he ordered another two.

“He’s your cousin?”

“Listen, we’re descended from royalty. Do you think a little thing like a familial relationship can hold us back?”

I couldn’t help the laugh that barked out of my throat. Finn laughed too, and the mood immediately became lighter.

“Well, yeah, thank god he’s not your type then, I guess,” I said after the laughter faded.

He picked up his glass and shot me a very specific kind of look, one that could have meant all manner of things, really, but just in case I wasn’t sure, he said: “You are though.”