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And I know, I know, Reid. I know this is the stuff that’s most distasteful about my job. I hated that it had to work like that, too, but I felt beaten down by their logic.

So I listened as Cordelia told me my target should be Ryan Jaffett.

‘He used to be a full-on fukboi… umm… womaniser, you know,’ she said in a rare moment of what looked like embarrassment.

‘But then during second year he seemed to just get tired of it all and he really sorted himself out. It’s very clear he really wants a proper girlfriend.

Plus his type is posh but a bit alternative and, ideally, sporty.

’ She gave me a luminous grin. ‘He’s going to love you. ’

I found myself hoping fiercely that she was right as I walked into Downing College towards the party.

I at least felt the part of Aria Lauder, in a very short and very casual-looking bohemian dress Cordelia had picked out (‘ Nobody dresses up for anything unless they have to.’) and with a strong application of the obligatory eyeliner and strings of little necklaces that the young women with money here wore.

Cordelia and I had already discussed at length that I needed to cue rich as well as different, and I hoped I was getting it right.

Tonight wasn’t really the first test of my persona as I’d already engineered a few coffees and encounters in Jesus College, where I was supposedly a postgrad. But it still felt like the first real hurdle. All the bedding-in meant nothing if I couldn’t convince these four friends to let me close.

I felt my adrenaline rising a little as I made my way into the grounds of Downing College.

It’s one of those places that is designed to intimidate.

Big, neoclassical buildings around a huge grass lawn.

It’s actually very reminiscent of Columbia, though on a smaller scale, which was unhelpful just then, given how much I’d struggled to fit in there.

But I reminded myself that I’d become a very different person to the Anna who walked onto campus at eighteen.

I’ve taken people down by charming them and seeing through them.

I’ve been in dangerous situations and brazened my way out of them.

I wasn’t going to let a bunch of undergrads make me feel anxious.

Luca had sent directions to Kit and Esther’s building, and I followed them with as much performative certainty as I could manage.

The music from their party became audible by the time I was a hundred yards away, and I could see a few people milling around on the grass at the back.

That was the advantage of a ground-floor room, I figured: easy access to the grass outside through the windows.

Though I suspected this wasn’t something the porters would endorse.

College lawns were, I’d learned, sacred spaces, reserved for fellows and high-ranking college staff only.

The main door to the building was locked, so I had to wait until a couple exited to slip inside. After that, I followed the sound to an open doorway at the back.

The party turned out to be a mass of people crammed into the sitting room of Kit and Esther’s ‘set’.

I’d never come across this term before Cordelia used it, but a set was simply two student rooms which were linked by a living area.

And of course, this being the abode of two students from generational wealth, it was pretty big, beautifully decorated, and had candles scattered around in a genuine fire-hazard kind of a way.

I took a minute to hover in the doorway on arrival, semi-transfixed at the fashion choices going on.

Cordelia had explained in detail that the last few years had really shifted female fashion towards dressing down, but it was fascinating to see in the flesh.

It was almost all wide-leg trousers and chunky shoes, unbrushed hair and big, owlish glasses.

A few of the young women or non-binary crew were sporting A Look, with frills and fishnets, but the only people who looked formal in any way were a few of the guys who were inexplicably still wearing chinos and shirts, as though the last fifty years hadn’t happened.

The other thing Cordelia had explained to me was how little the students actually partied these days: how historic drinking societies had folded since Covid lockdowns had broken with tradition; how few of them partied hard; and how many of them preferred to stay in and craft.

It was a good thing she’d warned me about the crafting thing, actually, because otherwise I might not have known how to deal with the sight of someone sitting on the arm of a chair, in the midst of a student party, crocheting something and barely making conversation.

What Cordelia had stressed, though, was that Kit, Esther, Ryan– and to some extent James– did party.

They were some of the few who had arrived at the university with a clear mission to enjoy themselves.

And that meant a lot of other people ended up getting drawn towards them.

Hedonism with a plan is always kind of magnetic, particularly if you were never the type of kid at school who went out and partied, which I’d guess was most of the others here.

It was already crazy hot and extremely crowded by the time I slid in through the door with an offering of Absolut Elyx vodka.

It wasn’t a brand I’d even heard of, but Cordelia had handed me the bottle the day before, in the know even about this despite being a non-drinker herself.

And isn’t that in itself fascinating, Reid?

That she’s twenty-one and British and teetotal? And not even alone among her peers?

‘They don’t do Smirnoff,’ she’d said with one of her wry grins. ‘Just don’t ask me how it tastes.’

Even standing in the doorway, I was wondering where I could go to get more air.

I could see in glimpses that the large Georgian windows of the living room were wide open, which was how everyone had been getting out onto the grass.

There were (I saw later) bare patches on the paintwork of the window frames where someone– Kit or Esther, presumably– had unscrewed the security locks.

I’d been hovering there for maybe a minute before the familiar face of Cordelia’s brother emerged through the throng.

I only knew Luca from photographs, but he stood out pretty clearly.

It wasn’t just that he was older, with very slightly receding hair at his temples; it was also the totally corporate air of the guy.

He looked absolutely not like a student.

Luca caught sight of me and slid through the crowd with his glasses flashing and a beaming grin, doing what I had to admit was a great job of looking like he knew me.

‘Hey, Aria. So glad you came,’ he said, as though we’d known each other for years. Such corporate bullshit, and so useful just then.

He took me by the arm, and dragged me into a conversation with an incredibly monomaniacal law student who must have been only eighteen, and then, shortly afterwards, smoothly caught the elbow of Esther Thomas as she squeezed past.

I could feel my heartbeat pick up at the sight of her. It was a little bit about anxiety, but also excitement. I was bored with prepping and wanted to meet the guys I’d been poring over at last.

‘You look bloody fabulous, as always,’ Luca said, leaning in to kiss her.

‘Thanks, Luca,’ Esther said without any real warmth.

I got the impression from their interactions, actually, that Luca had a bit of a soft spot for Esther. But for whatever reason, Luca wasn’t what Esther wanted. Which was interesting, given Cordelia’s comments about her being pushed to marry for money and status. Didn’t Luca have both?

Esther’s glance fell on me after that, and Luca asked if we knew each other.

‘Don’t think so,’ Esther said, just loudly enough to be heard over the music.

‘Aria Lauder? She’s an English postgrad at Jesus. Also an amazing rower, but don’t let her hear you say it or she’ll be insufferable,’ Luca said easily.

Esther gave me a searching, considering look and then smiled very slightly.

When she did, it was hard to look away. I found her immediately compelling, in the same way that an exquisite statue is compelling.

My eyes kept wanting to go over and over her features, and over the short, impeccably styled hair.

She was undeniably beautiful, but I was also instinctively looking for the real person under there.

She was so poised, so polished, that it was almost impossible to read more.

It was like any analysis kept glancing off.

‘Do you know any of the third-year English students at Jesus?’ Esther asked me. ‘My friend Tilly’s there.’

It was only a polite comment, I was sure. An attempt to find connections. But I was suddenly very aware of how thin my facade of being a student was. And even more aware of the little recording device I was wearing underneath the dress.

Luca, totally unfazed, gave a laugh. ‘No chance. Even the postgrads hardly see her. She’s always fucking rowing.’

I couldn’t help grinning at him, while pretending to be outraged. He was a natural at this.

‘I do talk to people sometimes ,’ I protested. ‘When they’re not being boring.’

I felt as though I’d somehow slid past the difficult moment and into my character. It’s always better after the first lie’s been told. Just like I always used to feel more comfortable after I’d delivered my first line in a college play or spoken my first words in a debate speech.

Esther asked me a few questions that I answered easily.

Fluently. She spoke to me for long enough to find out about my apparent family, and she warmed up a little more.

Clearly I’d passed some kind of social status test as far as she was concerned.

She even got a blandly handsome boy– Cosimo, maybe?

The recording isn’t clear– to make me a cocktail.

I wondered whether this was, in fact, a boyfriend, but she seemed uninterested in what happened to him once he went to make the drinks.

I would have gone on to ask her about what she did, as though I didn’t already know she was a social and political sciences student, but a figure I recognised as Kit Frankland pushed through the crowd.

I found my eyes locking onto him, and felt as if he’d caught me out. For a moment I genuinely thought he was about to eject me from the party for being a fraud.

But instead of looking my way he drew Esther aside with only a brief glance in my direction.

Calm the heck down , I thought, taking a very large mouthful of sickly-sweet cocktail. They’re just a bunch of kids at a party.

But I found my eyes following them and saw Kit glance back at me again as Esther said something. I gave him a small smile, the kind of smile you might give if you were aware you were standing in someone’s room, and then I turned to grin at Luca.

‘I’m so glad I made it out,’ I told him. ‘It’s genuinely nice to see you.’

Luca gave me a nod and said quietly, ‘I’ll give it a minute before I do any more intros. You good?’

‘I’m good,’ I said.

And he turned to talk to someone next to him in such a way that I could almost look like I was involved without having to be.

I half watched them, but glanced over towards Kit and Esther again repeatedly. Their eyes were no longer on me, which helped ease my ridiculous anxiety. They were huddled together with someone, and as I shifted slightly I realised it was Sarah Lafferty, Kit’s girlfriend.

I watched him hand something to each of them. They both put their hands to their mouths straight afterwards, swiftly and subtly.

A tab , I thought. MDMA, maybe? They’re getting high.

I made sure I was looking anywhere else after that, as the last thing I wanted to do was get caught watching them take it.

But it interested me that Kit had a supply of drugs.

I wondered if he was essentially acting as a dealer to the others.

If so, that might make him more likely to be the one to have drugged Holly with ketamine.

I thought, too, about how Cordelia had ended up ostracised by the group. He could have engineered that just as readily if he’d been worried he’d get exposed as a dealer. There was a huge threat to his career– as well as his place here at the university– if the wrong people found out.

What if they do actually work out the connection between Cordelia and Luca? I thought, suddenly.

I detached from him and moved towards the stereo system. If they saw me with other people they wouldn’t associate me with Luca too closely.

The stereo system was, obviously, elaborate and clearly expensive.

Pale oak tower speakers on either side of the two windows and a huge sub-woofer next to a desk on which someone had perched both an amplifier and a laptop.

There was a tall, broad figure hunched over it, strawberry-blond head nodding to the beat, and it was only as I got closer that I recognised him as Ryan Jaffett.

I came to a stop, figuring I’d take an opportunity to watch him while he was engrossed, but it turned out Ryan was more anxious about what everyone thought of his tastes than he wanted to let on. He glanced up and around the room and caught my eye.

It’s too early to talk to him , I thought, giving Ryan a vague smile and letting my gaze slide away. You can’t seem like you’re here to move in on them all.

I tipped my glass back and turned to ask one of the girls next to me if she knew where the bathrooms were. It took two goes for her to hear me, long enough for it to hopefully seem like a proper conversation. Enough for Ryan to lose any interest and go back to lining up playlists.

But when I squeezed my way towards the door I found Ryan standing right in front of it, his gaze boring into me. He was so much taller than I’d realised, taller than me in my heels, and intimidatingly powerful-looking in his tight T-shirt.

I felt my stomach twist as he stared down at me.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’