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“I need a break.”

“With him?”

There was no point in denial. “Yes.”

“You know the rules.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll be in touch.” Jack ended the call.

Thomas wasn’t happy. Jack almost was.

He sent a text to Zeph. Busy?

The answer came back quickly. Not until 4

Want to meet? Tell me where.

Corpus Clock. Ten minutes?

See you.

Jack had to look up what that was and where it was. Fortunately, not too far away. It was on front of the Taylor Library at Corpus Christi College. Apparently, not so much a clock but more a work of art.

He could see Zeph waiting as he approached. He was wearing his punting gear of dark trousers, white shirt and dock shoes. When Zeph saw him coming, he smiled so widely, Jack’s throat filled up. Such a simple thing having someone pleased to see him, but the delight it brought… Jack treasured it.

“Hi,” Zeph said as Jack reached his side.

Zeph’s hand brushed against his and Jack caught hold and squeezed his fingers. He thought about not letting go, but he wasn’t sure about hand holding in public. It would draw attention and he was in the business of never drawing unwanted attention. He let go.

“Sorry I had to leave,” Jack said. “I had some work to do before I could have the rest of the day off. I checked out of my hotel. Can I stay with you?”

Zeph nodded, his eyes bright.

“So what’s this?” Jack nodded to the clock behind them. “And what the hell is that insect on the top?”

“A chronophage—a time eater. Its mouth opens at thirty seconds past each minute and snaps shut when the minute is over. Reminds us we don’t have as much time left as we think.”

Jack winced. “Charming.”

“It’s an example of a grasshopper escapement mechanism, invented in the 1700s. The same inventor also came up with the marine chronometer that enabled sailors to work out longitude.”

“John Harrison.”

Zeph nodded. “That’s him. Have you been to Cambridge before?”

Yes. “No. I’ve seen Harrison’s clocks in Greenwich. You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Take us somewhere.”

They set off down Free School Lane.

“Have lectures finished now?” Jack asked.

“Lectures have. But I have two supervisions left. Once the exams are over, it’s generally time for everyone to celebrate. May Balls, BBQs, parties, doing stupid things and getting told off… Though the porters try to stop people jumping in the Cam.”

“May Balls? They don’t happen in May then?”

“No, June.”

“Are you going?”

“No.”

“Did you go last year?”

“No. Downing didn’t have one last year.”

“But you could have gone to another college’s ball?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“The tickets are expensive and I didn’t have anyone to go with. My friends were all paired off. I felt awkward so…”

“Which is supposed to be the best ball?”

“I think Trinity or St John’s, though they’re all good from what I’ve heard.”

“I’ll get us tickets.”

Zeph chuckled. “You won’t be able to. They go on sale in February and some sell out within hours.” He nodded at the pub they were approaching. “We can get lunch here.”

Jack stopped to read the blue plaque. “This is where scientists announced they’d discovered the structure of DNA?”

“Yes, and in the RAF bar at the back, World War Two airmen graffitied the ceiling with their names and squadron numbers in the hope they wouldn’t be forgotten. History everywhere you look in this city.”

History, but no free tables, so they carried on walking. The Bath House was the next place and it was less crowded.

“I’m disappointed there aren’t any baths,” Jack said.

Zeph laughed. “It’s a seventeenth century building but a lot of the features have been lost with various renovations. It was the Bath Hotel, once upon a time.”

They found a place to sit and picked up the menus. Jack wasn’t hungry but he’d choose something to keep Zeph company.

“I wish…” Jack began.

“What?” Zeph pressed his knee against Jack’s.

“I wish I’d been able to come here with you.”

Zeph smiled. “Well, you’re here now.”

They chatted about music as they waited for their food to arrive.

“Are you still writing songs?” Jack asked.

“Occasionally.”

“Write any about me?”

“I might have. About a moody, awkward guy who didn’t get in touch.”

Jack sighed. His eye caught the news story on the TV in the corner and Zeph turned to see what he was looking at. When the item was over, Zeph turned back to the table.

“Wow, that’s crazy. Someone getting shot in a hotel here? It wasn’t your hotel, was it?”

Jack swiftly ran through the consequences of lying. “Actually, it was.” He made sure he looked shaken.

“Bloody hell. I wonder if the police will want to speak to you.”

“They might. I could really do without that. I didn’t see anything anyway. I went to Grantchester first thing and walked back.”

“They’ll probably call you. The hotel has your number, right?”

“Yes. So tell me about your course.” He wanted the subject changed. “Incredibly hard? Relatively easy? What are the lecturers like?”

“Some subjects are tougher than others. Same for the staff. One of my supervisions is with a guy who’s brilliant and incredibly scary.

He’ll ask a really difficult question, then stare at you without blinking until you come up with some sort of answer.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve answered and thought—that sounds fine—only for him to give me an even more difficult follow-up question.

He keeps everyone on their toes but it’s a good way to learn, being in a small group, asking questions, discussing answers. ”

“Thomas was a bit like that when he was teaching me. Just waiting until I said something. Give him ten reasons why Hitler came to power. Ten examples of coastal erosion. Ten reasons the Black Death spread so quickly. He wouldn’t let it go until I’d come up with ten things.”

“Where did you live in America?”

“Oregon for a while, West Virginia, Colorado.”

“I’d love to go to America. But then I’d also love to go to France and Italy and Portugal.”

“A European road trip? We could do that. I could buy a car. Do you have a passport?”

“Yes. You…” Zeph hesitated. “You really mean it about the holiday?”

Jack nodded.

“Oh my God. I can’t wait to go on holiday with you.”

When Zeph went punting, Jack set about buying tickets for one of the balls.

There was a problem he hadn’t foreseen. Purchasers’ names were put on tickets to deter forgeries and control resale.

Photo ID had to be shown on entry to the ball, either a passport or driving licence.

It was possible to pay to change names but Jack wasn’t sure if that had to be done by the ticket holder.

A bit of checking revealed some colleges allowed name changes online for a fee. Trinity was the most stringent.

Jack could have forgeries made. Thomas’s contacts were now also his contacts.

He’d also have to hack into a college’s list of attendees to add his and Zeph’s names—whatever they decided to call themselves—to the list that would be checked on entry.

But he knew what Thomas would think of him using resources for any of that and it relied on Zeph going along with a name change. So he decided on a different route.

Everything had a price. He found a number of people offering tickets to various balls at highly inflated prices.

He didn’t care what he had to pay. It took three calls to find someone who still had tickets available, with fast-track and dining upgrades, and the seller wanted cash.

Of course they did, but Jack would have paid cash anyway.

He arranged to meet them near King’s College and followed the directions he’d been given, going through a small wooden door near the college that led to an enclosed alleyway.

“Ben?” someone asked.

That was the name Jack had used. He turned to see three guys emerge from a doorway a little further down. They moved to form a semi-circle around him. They didn’t have the look of university students. This might be fun.

“Hand over the money,” the tallest one said.

“Where are the tickets?”

“We’ll post them. Promise.” The guy laughed.

Jack stepped towards the tallest, knowing he’d be the one to attack first, and was proved right.

But the guy’s kick never reached him. On the other hand, Jack’s foot struck the man’s ankle so hard that he cried out and fell to the ground, rolling in agony.

The other two were already heading towards Jack.

Whether there were tickets or not, he had to disable all of them.

A punch from the oldest was deflected by Jack’s elbow, dislocating the guy’s shoulder.

The other—the smallest—was coming at him from the other side. Mistake.

In seconds all three men were on the ground. Two were unconscious and the one who wasn’t, but had a broken arm and dislocated shoulder, was crying.

“Tickets?” Jack asked.

“Him.” He glanced towards the smallest man.

Jack found them in his pocket. They looked legit. He took a picture of the driving licences of all three guys, none of which matched the names on the tickets, then put the money in the pocket of the conscious one.

“You’re still paying us?”

“Minus an aggravation fee. You were very aggravating. Any trouble and I know where you live. You don’t want to see me when I’m really pissed off.”

The other two were coming round as Jack walked away.