'The Point' - On an ordinary Friday night in Durham, a group of students are caught up in sexual dramas whilst skipping between house parties. In the end, what's the point?

'Pelaw Wood: A Love Story' - A chance meeting between old friends Charles and Sebastian has unwelcome repercussions in a story inspired by Brideshead Revisited.

'Not All Men: A Comedy' - Emilia hates men. Jonathon doesn't know what he thinks. But where does Socrates fit into all this?

'Lilly: A Thriller' - When the Food and Drink editor of The Typo receives a mysterious email, he is exposed to the sinister machinations of a cult devoted to the reinterpretation of Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Part One

‘I want to get to the point, I want to get straight to the point, and, you know, that’s it.’

This was a catastrophic moment for William, although he was far enough on his way to inebriation to soften the blow. He had become the unwanted guest at the party; the vacuum at the edge of the room; the one who other guests tiptoe around to avoid getting sucked into the attention-seeking, beetle-black hole of self-pity—God, was this him? And, hey, wasn’t thinking like this self-pity too? Where did it end? The only solution, it seemed, was to enjoy another dram of the punch he’d scooped out of the saucepan, and try and forget about the whole sorry business.

Emma had been listening, nominally, but as even William seemed to have lost interest in himself, it was acceptable to schmooze down other avenues. As the social clusters continued to congeal, she was a white blood cell, primed to engulf the nearest alien body—hang on, really? Well, you never know what the night has to offer…

The air was sharp with high-pitched, mannered shrieks from an ill-advised playlist, and the tight circumferences of slouching backs had closed ranks, barring Emma entrance. It was William. He had stained her with his misery. But wait a minute! She felt the earthy throb of her phone in her right pocket, and with it the promise of salvation.

SALLY: You coming to pres?

Like hell she was! She stumbled out into the tiny corridor and rummaged distractedly through the pile of coats, one cloaking another like a tatty Matryoshka doll. Coat located, she breezed out into the freezing air, zipped up her coat, and prepared herself for the walk over to Viaduct.

As she paused beside the DSU, preparations were hurriedly underway across the street. The booze aisle at the convenience store was clogged like a congested artery, and Fiona felt indignation at some woman running a slender finger lazily along the rippling rows of wine bottles. An aisle across, and Martin clutched a chocolate cake in one hand and a box of ‘man-sized’ tissues in the other. It had been a tough week. Why not indulge tonight, and repent his raging id in the morning?

He saw Fiona as he made a move towards the tills, and a moment’s lust accosted him. Why satisfy their urges alone when their libidos could be much more easily appeased via teamwork? It was a short step from here to imagining her rubbing sun-shot limbs over his thundering ribcage. And there it was: his manhood popping up to say hello. His cheeks blazed as he handed over the cash.

As Martin slid out of the shop, Emma brushed past his saluting stiffy, which let out a throb of contentment. Emma’s mind, however, was fixed on the minimum expense required for the ritual predrinks offering. Settling for a trusted Chianti that came in under a fiver, she brushed lightly against the wine-gazing woman’s chest, inspiring a second bout of arousal in under five minutes.

She must look classy, she thought, as she crossed Market Square, grasping the bottle by its neck like a weapon. Maybe it was thoughtless of her to ditch the others, but being in the same room as William nowadays was suffocating. She’d love to tell him to pull himself together, and almost regretted not taking the opportunity before she left.

William, in fact, was being unfairly criticised. Two glasses of punch later, and he was not making significant demands on anyone’s attention. He had many things to say, primarily about himself, that he thought would clear his congested mind. But not tonight—leave the thoughts to ferment for a few days and then he’d find someone to spill to, clutching his lines like an eager auditionee. Unfortunately for William, though, low spirits had somehow infested the party, and he was Patient Zero. Fred was soon on hand with damage limitation.

‘Will, mate, don’t you think you should go to bed?’ he said with ill-concealed cunning. ‘You’ve been having quite a bit of that punch, haven’t you?’

William shuddered on hearing himself addressed in the manner of a misbehaving toddler. But how to maintain his dignity? Accept defeat docilely and crawl back under the sheets, or fight his corner and risk further reprimands? With great solemnity, William rose, nodded his head once at Fred, and ascended the stairs at a measured pace. Quite contrary to Fred’s desires, this odd display seemed to dampen the collective mood even further. The alcohol refused to have the desired effect, and the week still weighed heavy on everyone’s minds.

Part Two

Emma, having seemingly made a lucky escape, now held Sally’s doorbell hard as she clutched the wine in her purpled hand. Backtracking a couple of steps, she peered into the living room where Sally was seated on the rugged circumference of the predrinking party. Emma knocked sharply on the glass, and presently was admitted.

‘Where have you been?’ gushed a red-faced Sally slurringly. ‘We’ve not seen you forever.’

‘Oh you know,’ Emma said non-committedly, ‘this and that. Trying to console an undead housemate actually…‘

Emma’s eyes made a quick circuit of the circle of pre-drinkers, half of which consisted of unfamiliar faces whose features she instantly forgot as her eyes passed over them. Seeing that she had some catching up to do, she yanked the screw-top from her wine and took a swig before offering it to Sally, whilst groaning internally at yet another game of Never Have I Ever.

‘Malorie’s here,’ Sally slurred darkly into Emma’s ear. The blood rushed sympathetically up into Emma’s face at the memory of the dead look in Sally’s eyes after the break-up three weeks ago.

‘Why? I thought…’

‘See that guy there?’ Sally pointed and Emma nodded whilst gently pulling her arm down before the guy noticed. ‘That’s her latest. The guy she cheated with. But she’s shagging that guy. He doesn’t know.’

‘Well, I suppose he who lives by the sword—‘

‘Never have I ever,’ bellowed Sally (it was her turn), ‘had seggs-joo-aall re-lay-shons with Mal-lol-lie.’

Emma was now regretting her decision to flee from William. She could feel her heart gallop steadily in the awkward pause that ensued and took another swig of the wine, partly so there was less for Sally.

Sally raised her hand proudly in the air; Henry (Malorie's current boyfriend) awkwardly. Someone in the circle supressed a snigger.

‘Now, Sally—‘

‘Not shy are we Hah-wee. You ha’ to tell the twooooth.’

Emma was filled with a syrupy sense of dread, like sliding slowly into a deep pit. She glanced at Harvey, who she guessed was suffering from a similar sensation. Malorie stood stock still and tightly pursed her lips.

‘Harvey?’ Henry, tonelessly.

‘She’s drunk.’ Harvey, nervously.

‘We haven’t—‘ Malorie, coldly.

‘Certainly not.’ Harvey, a little too empathically.

Everyone sat blankly for a moment, aside from one of Henry’s rowing friends, whose lip twitched as he tried hard not to laugh.

‘What. the. fuck.’ intoned Henry dangerously. Malorie’s petulant poise was beginning to be upset.

‘Henry, believe me—,‘ tried Harvey.

Unfortunately Henry’s friendship groups throughout his formative years, which mostly consisted of hard-drinking rowers, had moulded him into a man prone to thinking with his fists, one of which presently collided with Harvey’s angular cheekbones. Malorie, prepared for this turn of events, sprang up in a way that reminded Emma of a doe sprinting from a predator.

‘Fuck you Sally!’ she cried as she launched past them.

‘He would have found out eventually,’ Emma said to Sally consolingly. Malorie slammed the door.

‘Come on,’ Emma said coolly as Harvey and Henry became a mass of thrusting limbs on the floor. Some of the circle tried half-heartedly to prise them apart whilst most stood awkwardly spectating, unsure of how to behave. Jane, whom Emma had always held a mild dislike to, recorded the fight on her phone.

Emma dragged Sally up as gently as she could, slung one of her friend’s arms round her shoulder, and headed to the door which Sally had left swinging back and forth in the soft evening breeze.

Part Three

Fiona knocked lightly on the door.

‘You asleep Will?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s like death itself down there. Thought this is where all the fun would be happening. I was going to go round Sally’s, but I heard you were feeling low, so thought I’d come and see off this godawful wine with you. Good thing I did really, just got a text from Jane saying that their pres has just ended in a punch-up.’

She found him folded over on himself, cradling his spindly knees. She’d always had a soft spot for William, partly because no one else seemed to.

 ‘I was sent to bed, Fi.’ He spoke with a gentle and somewhat childish baritone which resonated peculiarly with her. ‘Apparently I drank too liberally from the punch.’

‘Vile stuff. I sampled some on my way up. Why don’t you wash it down with some Merlot?’

She unscrewed the cork, and sent it spiralling towards the dustbin before it was swallowed by the half-darkness. William clambered down from the bed, reached for a tea-stained mug, and offered it for Fiona to fill.

‘So, how are you holding up? At the “how will I ever meet anyone like her again” stage, or have we moved on to “I hope the witch rots in hell”?’

‘Someway inbetween.’

‘You never could make you mind up about anything.’ She swallowed a swig of wine and winced at the acidic after-taste. ‘You haven’t invited me round for ice cream and trashy Rom Coms and I feel offended. That’s literally the only silver lining to a break-up.’

‘I wouldn’t be much fun. At the moment, I’m stuck alternating between being really sad and really horny.’

Across the river at Chad’s, tides of blood gushed into Martin’s inflating member as he massaged it with his eyes screwed shut. Tenting it in a newly-purchased tissue, he applied his full concentration to approximating a passable likeness of Fiona when the door flung open.

‘Martin, Harvey needs our—woah, wait a minute, are you…?’

‘Just give me a minute, will you?’

Mike retreated into the corridor before his laughter began spewing forth in rhythmic bouts like an opened artery. Harvey, leaning bloodied against the wall, was not impressed.

‘What the fuck Mike?’

‘Do you—[he caught his breath]—do you know what he’s….doing in there?’

Martin strode assertively into the corridor before the story could be circulated further.

‘Jesus Harvey, what happened? Hold on a second.’

Martin returned a few moments later carrying the box of tissues. This was too much for Mike, who swiftly sunk down on to the drink-stained carpet, clutching his violently contracting stomach.

‘Have you ever thought about this stuff whirring around your body?’ Fiona brandished the almost empty bottle. ‘It gets on your lips, your teeth, and then pretty soon it’s in your blood, whizzing around your insides and causing all sorts of havoc. Why do we bother?’

She quickly saw off the remainder of the Merlot.

‘You always were philosophical when drunk,’ William smiled indulgently.

‘Can we go out tonight? It’s been ages. And maybe if you shag a stranger it might help with the whole healing of the broken heart shebang.’

‘God, I’m such an idiot,’ hissed Sally. ‘Emma, what have I done?’

The shock had reversed some of the numbing effects of the alcohol, and Sally was panicking.

‘By the morning they’ll have punched it all out of their systems. It’s therapeutic.’

‘But now she’ll really hate me. Even more than before. Oh God!’

Emma turned at the uneven clatter of high heels on cobblestones to see Jane trotting towards them.

‘All’s well. Harvey bolted. We’ve only just managed to calm Henry down. Are you OK Sally?’

‘No,’ she whimpered.

‘Let’s just get slaughtered and forget about it,’ suggested Jane. ‘It’ll be OK in the morning.’

Emma gazed ruefully up the Bailey. The colleges were vomiting out tuxedoed drunkards, who were quickly losing all sense of decorum. Bands of students were scurrying across the cobbles like lice, looking to take their predrinks alcohol consumption and sweat it out on the sticky floors of Klute. Before Emma knew it, she felt Jane’s hand dragging her down the stairs to Jimmy Allens.

Part Four

Things were hotting up on the dance floor. Bright lights peeped from behind clouds of smoke, endowing each face with ghoulish contours. It was structured chaos, circles of dancers like white blood cells floating in a plasma of sweat and noise, swallowing up a latecomer here and there.

It was 1am, and Fiona and William paused at the edge. The crowd were going wild for a dance remix of an Adele song.

‘What’s the point Will?’ she asked with Merlot-induced frustration. ‘So what? She’s found another guy. It doesn’t mean you’ve got to walk around like a fucking zombie! One of the perks of being young and beautiful is that every time something ends, all we have to do is start again. Everyone’s getting over someone.’

Will, ignoring her, nodded once, and she dragged him into the melee.

Emma was tiring after giving a little too much for ‘Chandelier’ earlier in the evening, and now she was bopping half-heartedly in an attempt to keep going. Her perception flattened from the lights and the alcohol; Sally and Jane became little more than a wash of primary colours; two sweaty hands loosely grappled on to her own. They were a fragile circle without an epicentre, awaiting each bass’s pulse to explain their reason for being there. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

‘Toilet,’ she shouted in her friends’ ears, and she was spirallingly swept away. On any other night she would have given in to each eddy’s demands, but now she was fighting against the current.

Outside, she pantingly leant her head against the rough brick. The yellow light of the street lamps somehow seemed more real than the red, blue and green of the club. She was circling around some imaginary point, swept by the pulse of some imagined heart. It was awful. She closed her eyes.

‘You OK?’ came a distant, slurring voice. Martin was stumbling towards her.

He was hardly handsome. Freckles peopled his face like some leftover from childhood, and his skinny frame promised a pigeon chest. But something, somehow, responded to him inside of Emma. Her blood lurched out of its sickening freefall and settled into a tempo she remembered, pitched in measured laps around each limb. Her heart, reasserting its command, pummelled meaning into each moment.

‘You’ll do,’ she smiled.

Martin, not believing his luck, circled his arms around her back, and gave in to the warm moisture of her kiss.

Seb, panting, unfastened another button of his shirt. The heat had risen, the ascent was steep, and he had started to sweat. Already the river, endowed with a loan fisherman, stretched teasingly beneath his feet. Delighting in a comforting loneliness, a knight errant directionless in the forest, he was irked when he came across a couple lying in the grass with their faces fastened close and their limbs winding helter-skelter around each other. Seb held his ground as he recognised the savage side parting which now appeared to be burrowing into the reclining woman. He resolved to shuffle past before he could be apprehended. This, to everyone’s great misfortune, proved to be a futile gesture.

‘Seb!’ cried the horizontal man as he somehow extricated himself from the embrace. ‘What do you think you’re doing sneaking past like that?’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ said Seb with awkward levity.

Charles, for that was his name, laughed at his discomfort. Charles’s partner shot Seb a glance which could hardly be termed friendly.

‘So where have you been all these months? I’ve hardly seen you since First Year. Julia, this is Sebastian, hopeless romantic and expert on all things Medieval. Do you remember me telling you about him? We lived together. Derwent. Ground floor.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ sighed Julia with more drowsiness than she felt. ‘You were rather wild back then, weren’t you Charles?’

‘Oh, we all were in First Year,’ laughed Charles good-humouredly.

‘And what about your friend?’ asked Julia. ‘Was he wild?’

‘Well, I’d say you were a dark horse,’ Charles mused to Seb. ‘Always disappearing on nights out and filling us in on the latest emotional crisis. Is life treating you any better nowadays?’

Seb tried to think of a witty response, but settled for a shrug.

‘Anyhow, it was nice seeing you again, Charles. I best be getting along.’

‘Nonsense! I’m not going to let you get away that easily, you might disappear for another six months! Would it be an awful bother if I walked a little way with you?’

Julia’s face provided him with an answer.

‘Honestly, I’d prefer to be alone.’

Seb rarely felt this uncomfortable, and it was precisely these sorts of situations he had come to the wood to avoid.

‘Go with him, Charles,’ Julia sighed, acknowledging her boyfriend’s obvious disappointment. ‘I’ll wait here, unless a better man comes and sweeps me off my feet while you’re gone.’

‘We won’t be long. Keep my spot warm for me, Sweetie.’

With impressive speed, Charles bounded to his feet and was soon at his side. Seb’s arm was taken without invitation, and he was brusquely propelled up the remainder of the hill into the trees.

‘Don’t mind Julia,’ smiled Charles encouragingly, ‘she can be a bit standoffish at times.’

Seb cast his eyes back to the spot where Julia was still reclining in the sun. She was spindly and flat-chested, with aggressively angular shoulder blades. In some senses, she seemed faintly familiar.

‘We’re pretty serious you know, Seb,’ he began to explain. ‘We got together around the start of Michaelmas. At first she was just another fling, but she stuck around somehow. And the funny thing is, the girl I thought I was dating in those first few weeks, well, it turns out I had completely the wrong end of the stick. But all of those things that I thought I knew about her don’t count for anything now. She’s just Julia, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t have anything differently. But enough of that, what brings you up here?’

 ‘Another break-up,’ Seb said simply and candidly. ‘I wanted to be alone.’

‘Gosh, I do put my foot in it sometimes! How long this time?’

‘A week.’

‘God, that’s a record, isn’t it? Surely you can’t be that cut up about it?’

‘It was a very intense week.’

‘Ha, well it always is with you, isn’t it? How do you get rid of them so quickly?’

‘If only I knew. I found out about this place when I was with the last guy and we talked about walking here together. That never happened, and ever since we’ve split I’ve been thinking about Pelaw Wood. Waiting for a half-decent day to make the trek to Hild Bede. I know this sounds silly, but it’s almost like a Grail Quest to me.  Like it might have healing powers.’

Charles laughed sympathetically and there was a pause. They were now deep in the trees, and somehow this was more appealing than the view of the cathedral they had turned their backs on. Here Durham couldn’t intrude, even in panorama.

‘When things got pretty bad last summer I came here on my own, much like you really,’ began Charles. ‘I wanted to find a spot where I could just throw myself out, arms outstretched, and face the sky for a little while. But finding that spot here is harder than you’d think. Over that bridge, the ground is scattered with glass and empty Carlsbergs. There’s another place just back there, but it’s covered in nettles. I fear that the wood won’t quite match up to your expectations actually. Right down at the bottom there’s a row of decapitated tree trunks covered in graffiti, very Philip Larkin. But still, there’s something about this place. You get the feeling that if you kept looking, you could figure out what it was.’

They were at a bridge, which stretched over a small but picturesque valley across sprawling steel stilts. Being on a level with the very tops of the trees gave Seb an almost giddy feeling.

‘If you just stop here a while, I think you can get the bearing of the place,’ instructed Charles peremptorily, and Seb halted accordingly. The wood here was understated and in good taste; the genteel, mannered kind of Chretien de Troyes rather than the bloody wildlands of Malory. The river, however, was cradled in a concrete slough, with an ugliness that almost made Seb wince.

‘Pitiful, isn’t it, how they could ruin a view so completely,’ mused Charles. ‘But when seen for a sixth or seventh time, even this can be beautiful.’ He paused. ‘Just stand there and close your eyes. It will mean you don’t have to look at the stream.’ Seb did as he was told. ‘Now isn’t that better?’

Charles was right. The contented tickle of the water lulled Seb into a slow rhythm. He was so lost in the experience that he could not tell whether the brittle fingertip that tremblingly stroked the back of his scalp was real or a memory. Without willing it, Seb let out a sign of contentment, and the finger’s restless circling became more assured, teasing strands of hair apart. Then the cool breeze of the wood was mixed with a heady, loaded breath, like a Mediterranean noon. How far away were those lips he remembered? If he reached, could he touch them? But then it was over.

‘We best be getting back,’ Charles said, cool as ever. ‘Julia can get impatient sometimes.’

Seb silently followed. The wood looked teasingly down on them, as if promising to keep a secret. When they returned, Julia was immersed in a book.

‘What are you reading now, darling?’ asked Charles breezily.

‘King Lear,’ was the answer. ‘Cordelia is no more.’ She closed the book theatrically. ‘What have you boys been up to?’

‘I was just showing Seb the stream.’

‘Awful, isn’t it?’ Julia enquired nonchalantly.

‘Terrible,’ Seb responded politely. ‘Anyhow, I really must be getting back now. It was lovely seeing you again Charles.’

‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ smiled his friend. ‘And do drop by my place sometime. You remember where I live?’

‘Sure,’ Seb lied, and fled down the slope back to ground level. He was overtaken by an unaccountable anger, and his knuckles turned white with the force of his clenched fists. His peace had been disturbed. His past had pursued him to the Grail Castle, and he was denied a sight of the holy chalice.

‘Your friend was odd,’ observed Julia. They had knotted themselves together again, and their foreheads were touching. A bead of perspiration trickled from Charles’s forehead down Julia’s cheek.

‘A lot of my friends from Mildert are odd.’

‘Well he was in particular. There was something unsettling about him.’

‘I can’t know what you mean.’

An hour slipped past and they descended the hill, the sun having lost much of its brilliance.

 ‘I know what bothered me about him!’ Julia exclaimed with a certain hardness.

‘Really darling? Do share.’

‘We’re the spitting image of each other. I was wondering where I’d seen him before, and it’s in the mirror.’

‘I couldn’t think of a higher compliment to bestow upon him. Do you suspect he’s your long lost brother?’

‘Charles, I followed you.’

‘Beg pardon?’

‘I followed you to the stream.’

‘Why on earth would you do a thing like that?’

‘Because I knew something was wrong, and it turns out I was right.’

‘Now Julia, let me explain.’

‘Please do.’

‘In First Year I was very unhappy. I drank too much. Slept around. Did all kinds of naughty things. And Seb was the only one with the patience to deal with all that. Then one night, we were on the sofas at Klute. I lay my head in his lap, and he started stroking my hair and suddenly, just like that, something happened. So, with the insouciance that drunkenness alone can bring, I thought “well, I must be bi,” and reached up and kissed him. We carried on together in secret for a little while, but I never talked seriously with him. Then once summer came, I never saw him again until now.’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me this?’

‘Well, I didn’t think it was important.’

They had reached the riverside, and the light had changed to coat the green in a watery grayscale. Charles turned to Julia, and frowned at her furrowed brow.

‘Are you saying you wanted some kind of disclaimer?’ Charles joked desperately.

‘I just wanted to know.’

‘But why? I’ve never asked about your exes. You could have made it through all of the women’s football team for all I know.’

‘But this is different.’

‘How is it different?’

‘I thought you were straight.’

‘Do explain, darling, you’re not making an awful lot of sense.’

They walked on in silence across the bridge back into town. There were words chalked on the brick. ‘A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.’ Charles remembered the melody from his days as a treble in the church choir. He used to blush with pleasure each time the chorus returned. As they walked past Starbucks to the traffic lights, it was like emerging from a dream, and he wondered from what he was waking.

‘Julia…’

‘Give me some time.’

She did not need long, and spoke as they passed The Swan and Three.

‘You see Charles, when you first came to me, everything seemed very simple. I’d heard stories about you, although I never said anything, and I knew there had been countless women before me. But that was OK, because they were just short-lived and in the past. But now? You don’t want me Charles (don’t talk over me, please, just this once), you want what you see of him in me. Every time we made love, you were in bed with him. We are alike, Charles, I can even hear it in his voice sometimes, in the way he shrugs at other people. So what does that make me? The safer option? The Sebastian who you can take home to mummy and daddy; parade around your friends; hold hands with in public without constantly looking over your shoulder. I feel sick. Can we stop here?’

She clutched hold of his hand and dragged him to the steps by the monument in Market Square.

‘Hold me.’ Her voice faltered and her head sank into his lap. With a trembling hand, Charles began to stroke her hair, lightly with his palm. His lip began to bleed where he had been biting it, and a scarlet drop landed on Julia’s cheek. She was shaking, almost imperceptibly, and her skin had turned translucent pale.

‘I think I’m going to cry, Charles. I just think of you with another man and—how many have there been? Don’t tell me. I know you’ll lie. I’m going to go now, and I don’t want you to follow. I don’t want you to say a word when I leave. When I’m ready, I will call. But not before then, and don’t come looking for me. Agreed?’

Charles nodded slowly and painfully. Julia rose gracefully, and walked away with carefully measured steps.

Sebastian slammed the door. The smell of unwashed dishes assaulted his nostrils as he returned home. His housemate and her boyfriend were curled on the sofa, and before they could see him he sprinted silently up the stairs. He hit his bed with a dull thud and bit hard on the pillow.

Charles felt the warm patch in his lap where Julia had been. He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes, and she was there before him. The first time he woke beside her, in the late morning sunlight with the gentle rising of her angular shoulder-blade. He dragged the bristled edges of his fingers across his scalp, as if to pull every hair loose in his hands.

Julia walked by the river and shivered with cold. Now she was clear of the town she let her tears come unopposed. She remembered when she had broken her ankle during a football match, and the pain was so great that nothing else made sense. She felt that now; all the thoughts that rose like a fever in her brain were unravelling, replaced by an all pervading throb. She saw the steep path up and ascended as the sky turned a darker shade of blue. Past the graffitied stumps and the unearthly white of burned-out campfires, she was swallowed in the dusk by Pelaw Wood.

Seb, panting, unfastened another button of his shirt. The heat had risen, the ascent was steep, and he had started to sweat. Already the river, endowed with a loan fisherman, stretched teasingly beneath his feet. Delighting in a comforting loneliness, a knight errant directionless in the forest, he was irked when he came across a couple lying in the grass with their faces fastened close and their limbs winding helter-skelter around each other. Seb held his ground as he recognised the savage side parting which now appeared to be burrowing into the reclining woman. He resolved to shuffle past before he could be apprehended. This, to everyone’s great misfortune, proved to be a futile gesture.

‘Seb!’ cried the horizontal man as he somehow extricated himself from the embrace. ‘What do you think you’re doing sneaking past like that?’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ said Seb with awkward levity.

Charles, for that was his name, laughed at his discomfort. Charles’s partner shot Seb a glance which could hardly be termed friendly.

‘So where have you been all these months? I’ve hardly seen you since First Year. Julia, this is Sebastian, hopeless romantic and expert on all things Medieval. Do you remember me telling you about him? We lived together. Derwent. Ground floor.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ sighed Julia with more drowsiness than she felt. ‘You were rather wild back then, weren’t you Charles?’

‘Oh, we all were in First Year,’ laughed Charles good-humouredly.

‘And what about your friend?’ asked Julia. ‘Was he wild?’

‘Well, I’d say you were a dark horse,’ Charles mused to Seb. ‘Always disappearing on nights out and filling us in on the latest emotional crisis. Is life treating you any better nowadays?’

Seb tried to think of a witty response, but settled for a shrug.

‘Anyhow, it was nice seeing you again, Charles. I best be getting along.’

‘Nonsense! I’m not going to let you get away that easily, you might disappear for another six months! Would it be an awful bother if I walked a little way with you?’

Julia’s face provided him with an answer.

‘Honestly, I’d prefer to be alone.’

Seb rarely felt this uncomfortable, and it was precisely these sorts of situations he had come to the wood to avoid.

‘Go with him, Charles,’ Julia sighed, acknowledging her boyfriend’s obvious disappointment. ‘I’ll wait here, unless a better man comes and sweeps me off my feet while you’re gone.’

‘We won’t be long. Keep my spot warm for me, Sweetie.’

With impressive speed, Charles bounded to his feet and was soon at his side. Seb’s arm was taken without invitation, and he was brusquely propelled up the remainder of the hill into the trees.

‘Don’t mind Julia,’ smiled Charles encouragingly, ‘she can be a bit standoffish at times.’

Seb cast his eyes back to the spot where Julia was still reclining in the sun. She was spindly and flat-chested, with aggressively angular shoulder blades. In some senses, she seemed faintly familiar.

‘We’re pretty serious you know, Seb,’ he began to explain. ‘We got together around the start of Michaelmas. At first she was just another fling, but she stuck around somehow. And the funny thing is, the girl I thought I was dating in those first few weeks, well, it turns out I had completely the wrong end of the stick. But all of those things that I thought I knew about her don’t count for anything now. She’s just Julia, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t have anything differently. But enough of that, what brings you up here?’

 ‘Another break-up,’ Seb said simply and candidly. ‘I wanted to be alone.’

‘Gosh, I do put my foot in it sometimes! How long this time?’

‘A week.’

‘God, that’s a record, isn’t it? Surely you can’t be that cut up about it?’

‘It was a very intense week.’

‘Ha, well it always is with you, isn’t it? How do you get rid of them so quickly?’

‘If only I knew. I found out about this place when I was with the last guy and we talked about walking here together. That never happened, and ever since we’ve split I’ve been thinking about Pelaw Wood. Waiting for a half-decent day to make the trek to Hild Bede. I know this sounds silly, but it’s almost like a Grail Quest to me.  Like it might have healing powers.’

Charles laughed sympathetically and there was a pause. They were now deep in the trees, and somehow this was more appealing than the view of the cathedral they had turned their backs on. Here Durham couldn’t intrude, even in panorama.

‘When things got pretty bad last summer I came here on my own, much like you really,’ began Charles. ‘I wanted to find a spot where I could just throw myself out, arms outstretched, and face the sky for a little while. But finding that spot here is harder than you’d think. Over that bridge, the ground is scattered with glass and empty Carlsbergs. There’s another place just back there, but it’s covered in nettles. I fear that the wood won’t quite match up to your expectations actually. Right down at the bottom there’s a row of decapitated tree trunks covered in graffiti, very Philip Larkin. But still, there’s something about this place. You get the feeling that if you kept looking, you could figure out what it was.’

They were at a bridge, which stretched over a small but picturesque valley across sprawling steel stilts. Being on a level with the very tops of the trees gave Seb an almost giddy feeling.

‘If you just stop here a while, I think you can get the bearing of the place,’ instructed Charles peremptorily, and Seb halted accordingly. The wood here was understated and in good taste; the genteel, mannered kind of Chretien de Troyes rather than the bloody wildlands of Malory. The river, however, was cradled in a concrete slough, with an ugliness that almost made Seb wince.

‘Pitiful, isn’t it, how they could ruin a view so completely,’ mused Charles. ‘But when seen for a sixth or seventh time, even this can be beautiful.’ He paused. ‘Just stand there and close your eyes. It will mean you don’t have to look at the stream.’ Seb did as he was told. ‘Now isn’t that better?’

Charles was right. The contented tickle of the water lulled Seb into a slow rhythm. He was so lost in the experience that he could not tell whether the brittle fingertip that tremblingly stroked the back of his scalp was real or a memory. Without willing it, Seb let out a sign of contentment, and the finger’s restless circling became more assured, teasing strands of hair apart. Then the cool breeze of the wood was mixed with a heady, loaded breath, like a Mediterranean noon. How far away were those lips he remembered? If he reached, could he touch them? But then it was over.

‘We best be getting back,’ Charles said, cool as ever. ‘Julia can get impatient sometimes.’

Seb silently followed. The wood looked teasingly down on them, as if promising to keep a secret. When they returned, Julia was immersed in a book.

‘What are you reading now, darling?’ asked Charles breezily.

‘King Lear,’ was the answer. ‘Cordelia is no more.’ She closed the book theatrically. ‘What have you boys been up to?’

‘I was just showing Seb the stream.’

‘Awful, isn’t it?’ Julia enquired nonchalantly.

‘Terrible,’ Seb responded politely. ‘Anyhow, I really must be getting back now. It was lovely seeing you again Charles.’

‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ smiled his friend. ‘And do drop by my place sometime. You remember where I live?’

‘Sure,’ Seb lied, and fled down the slope back to ground level. He was overtaken by an unaccountable anger, and his knuckles turned white with the force of his clenched fists. His peace had been disturbed. His past had pursued him to the Grail Castle, and he was denied a sight of the holy chalice.

‘Your friend was odd,’ observed Julia. They had knotted themselves together again, and their foreheads were touching. A bead of perspiration trickled from Charles’s forehead down Julia’s cheek.

‘A lot of my friend’s from Mildert are odd.’

‘Well he was in particular. There was something unsettling about him.’

‘I can’t know what you mean.’

An hour slipped past and they descended the hill, the sun having lost much of its brilliance.

 ‘I know what bothered me about him!’ Julia exclaimed with a certain hardness.

‘Really darling? Do share.’

‘We’re the spitting image of each other. I was wondering where I’d seen him before, and it’s in the mirror.’

‘I couldn’t think of a higher compliment to bestow upon him. Do you suspect he’s your long lost brother?’

‘Charles, I followed you.’

‘Beg pardon?’

‘I followed you to the stream.’

‘Why on earth would you do a thing like that?’

‘Because I knew something was wrong, and it turns out I was right.’

‘Now Julia, let me explain.’

‘Please do.’

‘In First Year I was very unhappy. I drank too much. Slept around. Did all kinds of naughty things. And Seb was the only one with the patience to deal with all that. Then one night, we were on the sofas at Klute. I lay my head in his lap, and he started stroking my hair and suddenly, just like that, something happened. So, with the insouciance that drunkenness alone can bring, I thought “well, I must be bi,” and reached up and kissed him. We carried on together in secret for a little while, but I never talked seriously with him. Then once summer came, I never saw him again until now.’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me this?’

‘Well, I didn’t think it was important.’

They had reached the riverside, and the light had changed to coat the green in a watery grayscale. Charles turned to Julia, and frowned at her furrowed brow.

‘Are you saying you wanted some kind of disclaimer?’ Charles joked desperately.

‘I just wanted to know.’

‘But why? I’ve never asked about your exes. You could have made it through all of the women’s football team for all I know.’

‘But this is different.’

‘How is it different?’

‘I thought you were straight.’

‘Do explain, darling, you’re not making an awful lot of sense.’

They walked on in silence across the bridge back into town. There were words chalked on the brick. ‘A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.’ Charles remembered the melody from his days as a treble in the church choir. He used to blush with pleasure each time the chorus returned. As they walked past Starbucks to the traffic lights, it was like emerging from a dream, and he wondered from what he was waking.

‘Julia…’

‘Give me some time.’

She did not need long, and spoke as they passed The Swan and Three.

‘You see Charles, when you first came to me, everything seemed very simple. I’d heard stories about you, although I never said anything, and I knew there had been countless women before me. But that was OK, because they were just short-lived and in the past. But now? You don’t want me Charles (don’t talk over me, please, just this once), you want what you see of him in me. Every time we made love, you were in bed with him. We are alike, Charles, I can even hear it in his voice sometimes, in the way he shrugs at other people. So what does that make me? The safer option? The Sebastian who you can take home to mummy and daddy; parade around your friends; hold hands with in public without constantly looking over your shoulder. I feel sick. Can we stop here?’

She clutched hold of his hand and dragged him to the steps by the monument in Market Square.

‘Hold me.’ Her voice faltered and her head sank into his lap. With a trembling hand, Charles began to stroke her hair, lightly with his palm. His lip began to bleed where he had been biting it, and a scarlet drop landed on Julia’s cheek. She was shaking, almost imperceptibly, and her skin had turned translucent pale.

‘I think I’m going to cry, Charles. I just think of you with another man and—how many have there been? Don’t tell me. I know you’ll lie. I’m going to go now, and I don’t want you to follow. I don’t want you to say a word when I leave. When I’m ready, I will call. But not before then, and don’t come looking for me. Agreed?’

Charles nodded slowly and painfully. Julia rose gracefully, and walked away with carefully measured steps.

Sebastian slammed the door. The smell of unwashed dishes assaulted his nostrils as he returned home. His housemate and her boyfriend were curled on the sofa, and before they could see him he sprinted silently up the stairs. He hit his bed with a dull thud and bit hard on the pillow.

Charles felt the warm patch in his lap where Julia had been. He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes, and she was there before him. The first time he woke beside her, in the late morning sunlight with the gentle rising of her angular shoulder-blade. He dragged the bristled edges of his fingers across his scalp, as if to pull every hair loose in his hands.

Julia walked by the river and shivered with cold. Now she was clear of the town she let her tears come unopposed. She remembered when she had broken her ankle during a football match, and the pain was so great that nothing else made sense. She felt that now; all the thoughts that rose like a fever in her brain were unravelling, replaced by an all pervading throb. She saw the steep path up and ascended as the sky turned a darker shade of blue. Past the graffitied stumps and the unearthly white of burned-out campfires, she was swallowed in the dusk by Pelaw Wood.