A Subtle Flame

Part 11

CHAPTER TEN

 It was strangely quiet.  There was no thumping beat from Marianne's stereo, or the sound of voices from within.  Marianne and her friends must have gone out.  Monday was Eighties' night at the Students' Union; they were probably there.  Cressida began to turn away but then the door opened abruptly and she was caught in Marianne's angry glare.

             "It wasn't me," she stated firmly.  "I don't know who spilt wax all over the bath, but it wasn't me."  Marianne then withdrew her head and closed the door with a gentle, but insistent, kick.

             Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Cressida thought nervously.  She had worked so hard to be respected as a sensible, mature adult, and to hide her own doubts and failings.  Would the girls still listen to her if she admitted that her own life was a mess?  The sensible, logical thing to do would be to go back to her rooms and work it out on her own.  But Cressida could not face that.  She needed a friend to lean on. 

 Cressida took a couple of deep breaths, straightened her shoulders and knocked again.  This time when Marianne opened the door Cressida managed to get the first word.

             "Look, I didn't know about the wax and at this moment I don't particularly care.  I just wanted to talk – have a girly chat – you know."  Cressida offered a hesitant smile and hid her fidgeting hands behind her back.

             "Why?" Marianne asked suspiciously.

             "I could do with some advice," Cressida pleaded.  "Please?"

             "Ah!  Man-trouble."  Marianne's eyes widened in comprehension.  "Come in."  Marianne pulled the door wide and beckoned Cressida to enter.  Cressida stepped inside the warm room with a grateful smile and then wrinkled her nose at the heavy aroma of incense.  Marianne pushed a pile of magazines off her armchair for Cressida to sit down, and then lay back on her bed. 

             "I hope I'm not interrupting your work?" Cressida asked awkwardly.

             "Nothing I can't bluff my way out of," Marianne replied with a grin.  "So come on, confess."

 But the realization that Marianne was not alone made Cressida hesitate before sitting down.  Leaning back against a bean-bag, his eyes closed as if in contemplation of the divine, was Marianne's boyfriend, Aaron.  The last thing Cressida wanted for her heart-to-heart was an audience.  But perhaps he was asleep, or at least too mellow to notice her presence.

             Marianne paid no attention to her dozing friend and immediately began to press Cressida for information in a teasing tone.  "I'm guessing this isn't about your obnoxious tutor, the notorious Dr Christian Stuart.  So it must be about Davis, a.k.a. Mr Gorgeous -"

             "Christian?"  The somnolent figure suddenly came alive, his eyes snapping open at the mention of Christian's name.  "Do you know Christian, that bloke in History?" he asked Cressida.  "Remind him he owes me fifty quid the next time you see him, okay?  Cheers."  He gave Cressida a conspiratorial wink and then nodded off again with a contented sigh.

             "Aaron!" Marianne hissed at him and threw an embroidered cushion at his head.  "Ignore him," she said to Cressida with a shrug.  "He talks rubbish half the time."  The ungrateful thought, 'what on earth does she see in him?' flickered briefly in Cressida's mind.  But that was unfair.  She had probably never seen him at his best.  Aaron was apparently a talented and well-known D.J.

             "Perhaps we could go to my rooms?" Cressida suggested, still standing uncomfortably.

             "Oh sure, okay," Marianne agreed.  "You got any biscuits?"