Scandalous

Harold Grier was talking. ‘She was very excited about working with Professor Dexter. She told me she felt inspired by him, and fortunate to have him as a supervisor.’

‘And how familiar were you with Miss Miller’s research work?’

‘Very familiar. We worked together over a period of weeks. It was an exciting time.’

‘You recognized the importance of the work she was doing?’

‘Oh yes. Absolutely. And so did she. As I say she was thrilled Professor Dexter had given her the opportunity to work with him on it. Not many undergraduates would have been given such a chance.’

Sasha cocked her head to one side. Had she misheard him?

Anthony Greville leaned forward eagerly in his seat. ‘Miss Miller implied to you that the theory was, in fact, Professor Dexter’s? That he had invited her to assist him?’

No!

‘Yes. Well, she didn’t imply it. She was quite explicit about it.’

‘That’s not true!’ Sasha was on her feet, yelling from the gallery. The black-robed figures of the Regent House glared at her as one.

‘Sit down please, Miss Miller, or I will have to ask you to leave.’

‘But he’s lying! Tell them the truth, Harold, for God’s sake!’

Sue Miller took her daughter’s hand and pulled her physically down into her seat. ‘It won’t help, love,’ she whispered. Sasha sat down.

Harold Grier kept talking, calmly, rationally, convincingly. Every word was a bullet in Sasha’s heart. She was too stunned to take in much of the Master’s summing up, but the few words that sunk in left no room for doubt…tragic, unnecessary case…slanderous claims…overwhelming evidence to suggest…confused, troubled young woman…

The black-robed men began filing out. All around Sasha, people were on their feet. She tried to stand up but her legs had turned to water. Her dad put an arm around her waist. ‘It’s all right Sash. Let’s go home.’

It wasn’t all right.

Outside the Senate House, King’s Parade was choked with reporters. Theo Dexter stood on the steps, hand in hand with his wife, holding court. ‘No, I don’t feel victorious,’ he told the Times correspondent. ‘I’m relieved this is over. I’m relieved I can get back to work. I’m heartbroken at the pain I’ve caused my wife.’ He looked at Theresa, his eyes welling with tears.

‘How do you feel about Sasha Miller?’ another journalist shouted. ‘Will you be pursuing any legal action against her?’

Theo shook his head magnanimously. T think it’s clear that Miss Miller is a gravely troubled young person. I have no desire for vengeance. I wish her the best and I hope her family are able to get her the help she needs.’

As he finished speaking, Sasha emerged from the building, propped up like a drunk between her bewildered parents.

‘Are you going to make any statement, Sasha?’

‘Will you be going back to St Michael’s?’

‘The university has asked for a formal retraction. Any comment on that?’

‘No comment!’ Don Miller roared. It was like walking through a pack of wolves. ‘Get the hell away from my daughter.’

‘Are you sorry, Sasha?’

Sasha looked up. Am I sorry? Yes, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on Theo Dexter. I’m sorry I put my family through this. I’m sorry that none of you can open your eyes and see the truth.

The mob followed her to the car. Cameras clattered against the sides of Don’s tatty Volvo as the family drove away. Sasha stared out of the window at the colleges, their towers and steeples and portcullises bathed in late afternoon light. She remembered the day she had first arrived at St Michael’s, full of hope and promise and excitement, her head full of thoughts of Will Temple, the boy she’d left back home. It was only a year ago. But it felt like a lifetime.

That girl is gone forever, thought Sasha.

She knew she would never return to Cambridge again.

It was almost midnight before Theo had a chance to call Ed Gilliam. What with all the press to deal with, and the celebratory drinks party at the Master’s lodge, followed by a romantic, thank-you-for-standing-by-me supper with Theresa, he hadn’t had a second alone since the verdict.

‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’

Gilliam laughed. ‘Not likely. I’m so wired I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.’

‘So come on, put me out of my misery. How did you do it?’

‘Harold Grier, you mean?’

‘When I saw him after recess I thought we were sunk. How did you get him to change his mind?’

‘The same way you get anyone to change their mind. I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.’

‘Money?’

‘Better than that. I told him I’d get him a book deal for his new thesis. That and a sponsor for his next five years of research.’

‘But Grier’s research is impenetrable. Not even physicists can understand it.’

‘Hey, I didn’t say the book would sell. I told him we’d publish it.’

‘Who’s going to sponsor him?’

‘You are, Theo. Or rather, your TV production company. Once your show gets syndicated globally, believe me, the payments to dear old Harold will be a drop in the ocean.’

‘My show? What show?’

Ed Gilliam laughed out loud. ‘Get some sleep, Theo. You’re about to become a very, very busy man.’

PART TWO

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