Red Joan Read Online Free PDF Page B

course I’ll be careful. Now get a move on, Garbo. We’re going to be late.’
    Their shoes clip on the cobbles and the mink coat flutters behind them as they cross the river by The Anchor. There are wolf-whistles from the pub doorway as they run along Silver Street and onto King’s Parade, half-mocking but also amused. Joan is not used to so much attention, noting with surprise that just as much of it is directed at her; a reflected radiance. She wonders if this is how it feels to be Sonya. Always looked at, always admired.
    The sherry party is held in an old building in the centre of town, a square, wood-panelled room decorated with books and candles, and Joan and Sonya’s arrival goes largely unheralded by the huddle of academics talking in the middle of the room. Sonya goes to hang up the fur coat in the cloakroom, and instructs Joan to procure her a drink. Waiting staff in black uniforms with pressed white collars carry silver trays of tiny glasses in which sherry shines and sparkles.
    â€˜Dry or medium?’ A waiter is standing in front of her.
    â€˜Oh.’ Joan glances at the tray of glasses and then looks back at the waiter. ‘I don’t know.’
    The waiter’s expression is stern, but when he sees her confusion he grins and the skin crinkles around his eyes. He leans towards her. ‘New here, are you?’
    Joan nods.
    â€˜Take the dry. Medium is sweeter, but if you say you like dry sherry it sounds as if you know what you’re talking about.’ He glances across at the huddle of academics and then turns the tray towards her. ‘And that’s what seems to matter most around here. It’s the one on your left.’
    Joan smiles gratefully, and selects two glasses from the tray, one for herself and one for Sonya. ‘Thank you.’
    She sees Sonya come in and waves to attract her attention, and she observes a glance pass between Sonya and the waiter. The waiter bows in acknowledgement, a small movement but a definite indication that he recognises her, and then he turns away to greet the next entrants to the party.
    â€˜How do you know him?’ Joan asks once he is out of earshot.
    Sonya takes a sip of sherry. ‘Who, Peter? I met him last night. My cousin knows him from when the waiters went on strike last year. He did some leaflets for them.’
    â€˜Why were they striking?’
    â€˜Just the usual. Wages, overtime, holiday.’
    They are interrupted by one of the tutors, a tall woman with long, grey hair who is intent on persuading Joan to take her zoology course. She has recently had an article accepted by the
Journal of Animal Ecology
, outlining her research on host-finding parasitic insects, and she is intent on relaying the more intricate aspects of this paper to someone, but Joan is too polite to slip away with Sonya once it has become clear that the paper is not a short one. She sees Sonya joining a group of girls from their year with whom Joan had dinner on the first night. She remembers their conversation quite well: horses, boarding school lacrosse games, sailing regattas in the Solent. Their expressions are strained with interest as Sonya speaks, and she sees Sonya laugh politely in return, but she also notices that there is something distant about the way Sonya talks to them, as if she does not quite know how to interact with them. After a few more excruciating minutes of parasite-based conversation, Joan excuses herself from the tutor and slips across the room to join Sonya.
    â€˜Thank God you’re here,’ Sonya whispers, handing her another sherry which she has managed to appropriate from a passing tray. ‘Drink this and let’s get out of here. There must be something more exciting going on in this town.’
    Joan hesitates. ‘Let’s stay a little longer. I don’t want to appear rude.’
    Sonya looks at her with barely concealed irritation, but then she shrugs and gives a small half smile.