A Subtle Flame

Part 9

CHAPTER EIGHT

 "You looking for Cressida?"  Marianne stuck her head out her door at the sound of Davis's insistent knocking.  "She's been working late at the library these past few days."

             Davis glanced at his watch, his frown accentuating the creases around his eyes.  "What time does she normally get back?"

             "About now actually," Marianne grinned, stepping into the corridor and pulling her door closed.  "Do you wanna wait in the common-room?  I can make us some coffee."

             "Okay, thanks," Davis smiled warmly, indicating that Marianne should lead the way.  His casual attire - dark brown trousers, leather jacket and rucksack slung over his shoulder – and his slim build suggested to Marianne that he was a student.  But as soon as she saw his crinkled eyes and the flecks of grey in his hair, she realized her mistake.

             If this is Christian, no wonder Cressida says he's arrogant.  With that toned body, olive skin and sculpted face, I bet he's used to the attentions of women.  Kinda like a young Harrison Ford, but with better hair.  Just as well I'm more of a Brad Pitt woman.

             "I'm Marianne by the way.  Are you a friend of Cressida's?" Marianne quizzed him as they entered the common-room.  "Make yourself comfy."  The room was unusually tidy and clean as a result of Cressida's recent bad moods.  She had been snapping at them at the slightest provocation.  If this bloke was Christian – although Marianne was beginning to have her doubts – she was very tempted to put something extra in his coffee.  A gob of spit for example, or a teaspoon of salt. 

             Instead of taking one of the low chairs, Davis walked over to gaze at the view through the window.  Marianne could not blame him for declining to sit.  The problem with the common-room was that, when it wasn't covered with junk and mess, the disturbing stains on the chairs and floor stood out more.

             "I'm Davis.  A lecturer in the history department," he replied evasively, unsure whether to describe himself as Cressida's friend or not.  But by the end of the evening he hoped there would be no uncertainty about his status.  Preferably as both a lover and a friend.

             Marianne watched him as she filled the kettle, brimming with curiosity.  Davis crossed his arms, then leaned against the window-sill, then shoved his hands in his pockets.  Very restless, Marianne thought intrigued.  This should be interesting.

             "I've only got instant I'm afraid.  Is that okay?"

             "That's fine, thanks.  Just black, no sugar."

             Hmm.  He wasn't exactly volunteering information about himself.  Never mind, she could work on him.  Marianne reached distractedly for a couple of mugs, her thoughtful gaze still on his tense shoulders and rigid back.

             "Marianne!  Have you still got my black leather trousers?" Charlie called out to her from the doorway.  "I want to wear them to the cinema tonight."

             Marianne waggled her eyebrows at Charlie and nodded her head at her guest at the window.  "What?"  Charlie hissed in return.

             "Charlie!"  Marianne announced cheerfully as if she had only just noticed her friend.  "Join us for a coffee!  You must know Davis.  He's in the history department too." 

             Charlie threw a questioning glance at Marianne before staring openly at Davis.  "I'm not sure ..." 

             Davis turned round and offered a tired smile.  "I'm Dr Thorndon-Davis, but everyone just calls me Davis.  I don't think we've met," he said with a polite regret in his voice.  "Perhaps you don't do classical studies?"