Babel : Or the Necessity of Violence: an Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution (9780063021440)

‘I gave them a Kreyòl-French match-pair,’ Victoire said. ‘And it worked, worked like a charm, only Professor Leblanc said they couldn’t put it in the Current Ledger because he didn’t see how a Kreyòl match-pair would be useful to anyone who doesn’t speak Kreyòl. And then I said it’d be of great use to people in Haiti, and then he laughed.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Letty rubbed her shoulder. ‘Did they let you try a different one?’

She’d asked the wrong question. Robin saw a flash of irritation in Victoire’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. She sighed and nodded. ‘Yes, the French-English one didn’t work quite so well, and I was a bit too shaken so I think my handwriting was off, but it did have some effect.’

Letty made a sympathetic noise. ‘I’m sure you’ll pass.’

Victoire reached for a biscuit. ‘Oh, I passed.’

‘How do you know?’

Victoire shot her a puzzled look. ‘I asked. Professor Leblanc said I’d passed. He said we’d all passed. What, none of you knew?’

They stared at her for a moment in surprise, and then they burst out into laughter.

If only one could engrave entire memories in silver, thought Robin, to be manifested again and again for years to come – not the cruel distortion of the daguerreotype, but a pure and impossible distillation of emotions and sensations. For simple ink on paper was not enough to describe this golden afternoon; the warmth of uncomplicated friendship, all fights forgotten, all sins forgiven; the sunlight melting away the memory of the classroom chill; the sticky taste of lemon on their tongues and their startled, delighted relief.

Chapter Fourteen

All we to-night are dreaming, —

To smile and sigh, to love and change:

Oh, in our heart’s recesses,

We dress in fancies quite as strange

WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED, ‘The Fancy Ball’

And then they were free. Not for long – they had the summer off, and then they would repeat all the miseries they’d just endured, with twice the agony, during their fourth-year exams. But September felt so far away. It was only May, and the whole summer lay before them. It felt now as if they had all the time in the world to do nothing but be happy, if they could just remember how.

Every three years University College held a commemoration ball. These balls were the pinnacle of Oxford social life; they were a chance for colleges to show off their lovely grounds and prodigious wine cellars, for the richer colleges to flaunt their endowments, and for the poorer colleges to try to claw their way up the ladder of prestige. Balls let colleges fling all their excess wealth that they didn’t, for some reason, allocate to students in need at a grand occasion for their wealthy alumni, the financial justification being that wealth attracted wealth, and there was no better way to solicit donations for hall renovations than showing the old boys a good time. And what a very good time it was. Colleges competed each year to break records for sheer indulgence and spectacle. The wine flowed all night, the music never stopped, and those who danced into the early hours could expect breakfast brought round on silver trays when the sun came up.

Letty insisted they all purchase tickets. ‘It’s exactly what we need. We deserve some indulgence after that nightmare. You’ll come with me to London, Victoire, we’ll go to be fitted for gowns—’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Victoire.

‘Why? We have the money. And you’d look dazzling in emerald, or perhaps a white silk—’

‘Those tailors are not going to dress me,’ said Victoire. ‘And the only way they’ll let me into the shop is if I pretend to be your maid.’

Letty was shaken, but only for a moment. Robin saw her hastily rearrange her features into a forced smile. Letty was relieved to be back in Victoire’s good graces, he knew, and she’d do anything to stay there. ‘That’s all right, you can make do with one of mine. You’re a bit taller, but I can let out the hem. And I’ve got so much jewellery to lend you – I can write back to Brighton and see if they’ll send me some of Mama’s old things. She had all these lovely pins – I’d love to see what I can do with your hair—’

‘I don’t think you understand,’ Victoire said, quietly but firmly. ‘I really don’t want—’

‘Please, darling, it’ll be no fun without you. I’ll buy your ticket.’

‘Oh,’ said Victoire, ‘please, I don’t want to owe you—’

‘You can buy ours,’ said Ramy.

Letty rolled her eyes at him. ‘Buy your own.’

‘Dunno, Letty. Three pounds? That’s quite pricey.’

‘Work one of the silver shifts,’ Letty said. ‘They’re only for an hour.’

‘Birdie doesn’t like crowded spaces,’ said Ramy.

‘I don’t,’ Robin said gamely. ‘Get too nervous. Can’t breathe.’