Page 99 of Dead to Me

By the time she’d arrived at the ball, where the VIP queue was ready to enter, Nicky already in place close to the front, she was ready to cry.How could she last a whole night with this pain?

But Nicky was waiting for her with a smile of huge pride, and she couldn’t ruin his night.So Dora kissed him and moved inside as if she didn’t hurt at all, past the ticket desk and into the wide expanse of the Great Court.And she nearly forgot her painful feet at the sight of a huge, red-and-gold hot-air balloon sitting stationary at the centre, its basket tied down but with the balloon lifting to strain at the ropes.

The very first students in the queue were being ushered into it to take photographs, and Dora beamed up at Nicky.

‘That is so cool.’

But she was drowned out by another voice close by.

‘Hot-air balloon!Fuck yes,’ a very tall, very muscular red-haired student just ahead of them was yelling.Dora felt Nicky– who was slim and shy– edge towards her a little.

She found herself watching the red-haired student after that, on high alert for signs that he might get rowdy.She wasstill, a year into being at this place, heart-thumpingly scared of drunk, boisterous men getting out of control.The redhead’s little group had that aura.They’d brought bottles of champagne and were opening them and commenting on everything loudly.

But a little later, as the queue moved on and the redhead decided to throw a cork at another student, the other tall boy with them drew him aside.He seemed to be trying to calm him down.To tell him not to behave like that.

‘Yeah, well,’ the red-haired guy suddenly said, ‘I’m not the one dating a fucking liar.’

Nicky started trying to talk to her then, clearly not listening to the conversation as she was, but Dora put a finger to her lips and leaned in.She caught only a low, intense, snippet: ‘…serious, Ryan… chance to actually talk to her and stop judging her.’

But then one of the others was waving, and the one talking to red-haired Ryan turned and was smiling at a newcomer: a blonde in a dramatic black-and-silver dress, wearing heels much higher than Dora’s but with a pair of hot-pink flats poking out of a handbag slung over her shoulder.

I should have brought some of those,Dora thought, and then she found herself watching, transfixed, as the blonde girl put her arms round the peacemaker and kissed him.And although the two of them looked beautiful, in a Hollywood-perfect way, Dora saw a drop of sadness on the boy’s face and a look of worry on the girl’s.

Maybe she cheated,Dora thought.And she kept close to them and tried her best to find out if that was true while they slowly moved towards the entrance to the ball itself.But the group spoke only about plans for the night, and how beautiful the girls looked, and then– at the gateway– they drifted off into the night.

Dora realised that she’d been ignoring Nicky and that his expression was hesitant.Hurt.

‘Sorry,’ she said.‘I thought I knew one of them.I don’t think I do.’And then she slid her arm through his.‘Let’s go and find something to drink.’

And then there was Patrick Offerly, a part-time psychology student and Bao Bun caterer who might have said something.Might have reached out.

At a little after nine Patrick witnessed a conversation between Anna and the bodyguard, Ned.The conversation took place right outside Patrick’s Bao Bun van during a quiet patch.Most of the ball’s attendees were at that point jumping around to the Miley Cyrus tribute act in the main tent, so Patrick had tidied up a bit and was now leaning on the counter to people-watch for a while.

It was the first time Patrick had really had any downtime, but he’d already noticed an older man in Ray-Bans.The guy had spent the last few minutes standing back watching a group of students on the dodgems, his hands folded in front of him and his head moving back and forth.He was close to the van, but his back was turned to it.He was definitely not a student or a fellow, and definitely not interested in food.

He looked, to Patrick, like a security guard, but he wasn’t wearing the black top and radio mic that the security guys were all wearing tonight.Patrick wondered whether he might be there to watch someone in particular.

While Patrick was trying to work him out a student in a striking black-and-silver dress who’d been standing close to the dodgems walked across the black matting in their direction.She looked relatively sober still.She came to stand alongside the Ray-Bans guy, moving out of his sightline– it was restricted by the serving hatch– but still only a few feet away.

‘How’s it looking, Ned?’she asked him, clearly audible over the van’s generator.She was American, he thought.East Coast.It gave him a pang of nostalgia for the gap year he’d spent running youth camps over in Saratoga.Great kids, time outdoors and no bullshit food van to run.‘Any murdery people about?’

‘That’s the trouble,’ the Ray-Bans guy– Ned– answered.‘Murdery people look like anyone, because pretty much anyone could murder.’

Definitely personal security,Patrick thought.

‘Huh,’ the girl with the silver-and-black dress answered.‘I don’t know about that.I don’t thinkIcould.’

‘You could,’ Ned said, firmly.‘Given enough of a reason.Nobody finds taking a life easy, but if enough people are depending on you…’

That interested Patrick.It sounded like this guy had served.Didn’t a lot of special forces guys become bodyguards?

He wondered whether he was this girl’s bodyguard, but he seemed to be watching the dodgems still.

‘Oh, I get you,’ the girl said, lightly.‘I just meant I actually couldn’t.Like, zero competence at fighting and a high likelihood of stabbing myself instead of the target.’

The bodyguard– Ned– sounded like he was smiling as he said, ‘That’s a fair point.’

There was a loud laugh from the students at the dodgems, and something in the security guy’s expression changed.He could see it even from a fragment of his profile.

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