My Oxford Year(42)
Sophie gives Martin a playful slap, exposing (and possibly showing off) a rather large diamond ring. “Martin, you’re incorrigible.”
Rat-a-tat-tat. “Far too long, old chap!” He drops his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “You look grand. Didn’t want to be a bother and all that. You’ve been rather incommunicado.”
Jamie nods and smiles as if his life depended on it. “Indeed, indeed I have been. Sorry, it’s just been mad. I meant to—”
Martin immediately holds up his hands. “No, no!” he declares. “It’s completely understandable.”
“Oh!” Sophie claps. “We’re having our stag and hen this coming Wednesday. A joint one.”
Martin holds up a finger. “The first one. Informal, just for the Oxford people. We’re having a proper do in London next month.” He grins at Sophie. “Separately, thankyouverymuch.”
She ignores him. “Why not come, both of you!”
“Yes, well, I’ll be sure to give you a ring,” Jamie says quickly. “Ella, we really should be off.” And with that, he quickly stands.
I look down at my untouched fish and chips.
“Ah, Happy Cod for breakfast,” Martin says with a wistful sigh. “That was always a milestone, wasn’t it?” He winks at me.
“You must come!” Sophie reiterates, taking my hand in her diamond-encrusted one.
I smile at her. I look down at our hands. “What a beautiful ring.”
“Isn’t it just grand?” she hisses, pouncing on the compliment like a tigress lying in wait for its prey.
“Where’s the party going to be—”
“Actually,” Jamie interrupts. “Would you mind texting me the details? We really must be off.” Jamie picks up our two bouquets of breakfast. “We’ll take this along with us, Ella. Sorry for the rush. Lost track of time.”
My stomach clenches. Is he embarrassed by me? Or worse, ashamed?
“I did try texting a while back—” Martin holds up his phone.
“Really? Must not have received it. Vodaphone were complete shit for a while there, finally switched, couldn’t take it anymore. Ella?” He’s looking beseechingly at me. I quickly stand and slip out of the booth. “Apologies, must get Ella to her lecture.”
Sophie turns to me, beaming. “Oh, what do you teach, then?”
“I—I don’t actually, I’m a student,” I stammer.
They both look at Jamie.
“Graduate student,” I clarify, trying to make it better somehow. Why is everything awkward?
“Anyway, lovely to meet you,” Jamie says, reaching for Sophie’s hand and then Martin’s. Their eyes meet and it feels like the first time Jamie has actually looked at him since he came into the chip shop. “You look happy,” he murmurs.
Martin takes a serious tone. “I am. We are. Thank you.”
Jamie smiles tightly once more and we head for the door. “Mate?” Martin calls out. “Any improvement?”
Without stopping, Jamie glances over his shoulder and nonanswers, “Brilliant. Cheers.”
Chapter 15
You have been mine before,—
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow’s soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, “Sudden Light,” 1863
We’re in Jamie’s classic convertible—which I’ve figured out is an Aston Martin—and almost to the English faculty, when I finally decide he isn’t going to offer an explanation for the elephant in the chip shop. So I ask, “What was Martin referring to?”
“Sorry?”
“Martin asked if there was ‘any improvement,’” I huff, “and I have no idea what he’s talking about and you obviously do.”
He doesn’t answer. We stop at a red light and Jamie goes vampire still, staring straight ahead. He finally mutters, “It’s my brother. Oliver. He’s undergoing treatment for multiple myeloma.”
My tone immediately shifts. “I’m sorry.” Then, when he doesn’t continue, “What is that exactly? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“It’s a blood cancer. Specifically of the plasma cells.”
“Oh God,” I exhale. “I’m so sorry.”
Jamie stoically shakes this off as the light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection. “Best not linger on it.”
“But he’s so young.”
“There’s nothing logical about disease.” Jamie pulls over in front of the St. Cross building.
I ask the follow-up question, even though I’m afraid to. “So? Has there been any improvement?”
“No,” Jamie answers bluntly. “There is no cure, actually.” I stifle a groan, feeling Oliver’s condemnation at my core. Jamie looks at the steering wheel. “I’m sorry, Ella, I should’ve been more forthcoming. I’m simply not one to go on about such things. But now you can better understand the demands on my time. I take him to treatment in London and stay on with him afterward.”
I reach over and take his hand, which still rests on the Aston’s shifter. “You don’t have to hide things from me, Jamie. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” Jamie nods quickly, but doesn’t look at me. “Jamie,” I try again, leaning into him. “If you need anything, I’m here for you. I could come be with you in London. Run errands, make meals, I don’t know, watch a bunch of Abbott and Costello?”