Page 90 of Save You
“Wow,” says Lydia.“Was Lexington happy?”
I nod.“Yes, luckily.But he’s usually pleased with us.”
“With a few exceptions,” murmurs James.
As I turn toward him, he’s grinning into his glass.
I know what he’s thinking.I remember the day we sat side by side at Lexie’s desk, when James was ordered to join the events committee as a punishment, as vividly as if it were yesterday.I smile back at him.
“Well, one exception, maybe.But that was hardly my fault, or anything to do with my team.”
Mr.Beaufort interrupts our conversation, and I feel the grin immediately wiped off my face.“I hear you’re very involved in school life, Ruby.”
“Yes, I’ve been on the events committee for the last two years.”
He just nods.Blink and you’d miss it.“Uh-huh.”
“Ruby is the head of the events committee,” says James, not looking up from his soup.
His father pays him no attention.“And will you be going to university too?”
“I hope to be starting at Oxford next year.”
Now Mr.Beaufort looks up, and, for the first time this evening, I get the impression that he’s actually taken notice of me.
I hold my breath.Everything within me is rebelling against talking about Oxford with this man.It’s sacred to me, and I don’t want anyone who doesn’t get what studying there really means to me to trample on my dreams.
“Oh, really?What will you be reading?”
“PPE,” I reply.
“A solid degree.And which college has taken your fancy?”
“St.Hilda’s.”
He nods.“Just like James.How convenient.”
I ignore his insinuation.“It’s a lovely college.At the interviews…” I fall silent.It was during the interview period that Mrs.Beaufort died.I glance at Lydia, who has frozen, her spoon halfway to her lips, and is now staring blankly into her soup.“I really liked everything there, and I’m looking forward to it a lot,” I conclude hastily.I can hardly imagine how painful it must be for James and Lydia to think back on that time.I venture a glance at James, but he’s not letting anything show, just spooning up his soup.
Just the starter takes more than an hour.During the main course, Lydia and I try to make the best of the situation and chat about all kinds of things—from films and music to books and blogs.When Lydia mentions that she used to do ballet, Mr.Beauforteven manages a fleeting smile.It only lasts a split second, after which I start to wonder if I’d imagined it.
“I once had the tiniest part inTheNutcracker, but I was so proud,” Lydia reminisces.She cuts into her chicken, which is beautifully garnished with griddled vegetables.The cook has put so much work into the presentation that I can hardly bear to destroy his mini work of art.
“I’d love to see photos.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” James mumbles beside me.“She was a little rat.The pictures are terrible.”
“Why don’t you tell Ruby about the times you did ballet too?”Lydia mocks from across the table.As James glares at her, she pops a huge forkful into her mouth and shrugs.
“Did you really?”I ask in surprise.
A muscle in James’s jaw stands out.“Lydia made out that it was really hard.She used to kick up a major fuss every time.So I said it couldn’t be that difficult and that anyone could do a bit of jumping up and down.”
“And then he came along to three lessons.You should have seen him.He was so awful!”She bursts out laughing.
“Why did you stop?”I ask, grinning.
“Because I made Lydia promise to stop moaning about ballet at home.”
