'Nothing happened,' I said.

I sipped a little more sherry. Father Hugh frowned.

'It is quite clear to me that something happened, James. Mark was taken to the police station. It is imperative that you tell me precisely what occurred.'

'Nothing, Father Hugh,' I said, 'nothing happened at all.'

'Now look here,' he began angrily, then, calming himself, said, 'James, perhaps you don't understand the severity of what we're discussing here.'

'We're not discussing anything, Father Hugh.'

Father Hugh leaned back in his chair, kicking out his cassock again in that disturbing fashion.

'James, our friend Mark is a very disturbed young man. Has he told you what happened in Italy six years ago?'

I looked at him innocently over the brim of my glass.

'No, I can see that he has not. Well then, I am forced to tell you in order that you should understand the severity of the situation. Six years ago our friend Mark suffered a mental breakdown. It took the form of wild and erratic behaviour. We are not talking of mere high spirits, James. He became physically violent to his mother on several occasions. And more than that, he behaved to her in ways that were entirely inappropriate.

'He stole. He smashed furniture. Eventually he stole a car and crashed it, only avoiding injuring himself by the most merciful act of God. He was arrested. It was only by the strongest representations made at the very highest level, the very highest, James, that Mark was able to avoid a stay in a juvenile detention facility and was instead released into the care of the monks of Santa Albante. Do you understand?'

I gulped and nodded.

'The family were pleased to see him apply himself to the Oxford entrance exam. We, his friends at Benet's and at Ampleforth, are delighted that he is interested in achieving a degree. We are not unhappy that he has found himself a group of friends. But James, we must know if his behaviour has begun to become erratic again. Do you understand?'

I nodded again. I considered whether Mark's cottaging was erratic behaviour. It would probably seem so to Father Hugh. But it had been in fact a very steadfast and reliable behaviour. I thought of the incident in the car. There was that, of course. But it hadn't been repeated: he'd seemed perfectly calm as soon as we entered the pub. But perhaps I should mention it.

Before I could reply, Father Hugh said, 'It goes without saying, James, that Isabella and the family will be very grateful for your assistance. If Mark is unwell again, he will need someone to help him. A companion. I'm sure we could arrange for you to receive signing power for one of his bank accounts.'

I must have shown something in my face at this.

'Of course ' he held up his hands 'all of this is for Mark's own good.'

I looked at him. How did he see this in me, Father Hugh? He was right. But I did not want to see it in myself.

'I'm sorry, Father Hugh,' I said, 'I don't know what to tell you. Nothing happened. It was all a silly joke.'

Father Hugh sighed.

'Very well, you may go. I may come to visit Mark later today.'

I waited the rest of the day for Father Hugh to arrive, anxiously scanning the road for his long, lean figure. But he did not come. Nor did he come the next day, or the day after. And I had no more notes from him.

12.

Third year, October, first week of term Mark rarely tries to explain himself. He has not the knack for self-examination. Once, after the funeral, I or his mother or Father Hugh or some combination suggested that he should see a counsellor. And he agreed, and went, and sat quite peacefully through several hour-long sessions with the woman, but it made him no better and no worse. And when I said, 'What did she say?' he said, 'I am that I am.'

And so he has never, I think, been able to attribute unknown motives to his actions. Never been able to say, 'Ah, I did so thinking I knew why, but I had hidden myself from myself.'

I have my ideas about why he did certain things, about why he suggested the ball so soon after Father Hugh's attempts to win me over, about what he was planning. Jess suggested it to me a long time ago when, in another of those endless conversations about what was to be done for Mark she said, 'He wanted to save himself, I think, with Nicola. He thought he could put himself out of the reach of temptation.'

But perhaps I am imputing too much complicated thought to him. Perhaps it was all simply an accident, every part of it.

'Now, my dears,' said Mark, 'if you call me a fairy godmother I shall kill you but ' he reached under his plate and pulled out four blue cardboard oblongs 'you shall go to the ball.'

Franny squealed and grabbed his hand to examine the tickets.

'Ohhhh, very nice. Gloucester College Winter Ball. What excellent taste you do have.'

He did. He had welcomed us back from the long vacation with good wine and roast beef, and dismissed our enquiries about his summer with an airy 'spent it with Dad's family. Mass in the morning, parties in the evening. Dreary beyond belief,' and when dinner was concluded presented us with these tickets. Each was marked with its price: 220. I had not previously been able to afford to go to my college's ball.

'Is it going to be good?' said Mark. This was directed at Jess and me. 'Tell me they put on a good show at Gloucester.'

'I think so,' said Jess hesitantly. We had rather withdrawn from college life.

Simon looked at the tickets with their silver writing. He frowned.

'You've bought four double tickets, though. There are only six of us.'

Mark beamed.

'An extra one for Emmanuella. You'll want to bring Kristian, won't you, Manny?'

Kristian was her new boyfriend; interchangeable, as far as I could tell, with the last. Emmanuella nodded graciously and leaned over the table to kiss Mark on each cheek.

Franny said, 'But doesn't that still leave an extra place?'

And Mark paused, drew breath and said, 'Yes, I suppose so. I rather thought I'd invite Nicola.'

Simon laughed. 'Nic? She'll be a bit out of place at an Oxford ball, won't she?'

Mark's mouth made an odd curl, a half-disappointed sideways curve.

'I think she'll be fine.'

'She's only fifteen, Mark,' said Franny.

'I think she'll be fine,' Mark said again.

Simon cracked open another beer and leaned back in his chair.

'Well,' he said, 'on your head be it.'

Nicola arrived on the morning of the ball by train. She had grown three or four inches and was less awkward and more worldly than when we'd first met her. She was wearing jeans and carrying a copy of Just Seventeen and I wondered whether she still doted on the vicar she'd been so fond of quoting last time I'd seen her.

Simon ushered her into the green salon, saying, 'Just don't mess anything up, all right?'

Nicola looked around the room, its antique furniture covered in cigarette burns, the remnants of dinner from last night and the night before still strewn across the floor. She shrugged her shoulders and said, 'If I messed it up any more I'd be tidying.'

She half-smirked at Simon, waiting to see if he'd respond, then turned to us and muttered, 'Hello, James. Hello, Jess.'

But Mark, as if he had detected the sound of her voice with dog-like hearing, suddenly hurled himself through the French doors at the far end of the room. He dashed along the central hall and fell to his knees before Nicola's armchair, shouting, 'Nicolaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!'

She let out a little scream and threw her arms around his neck, a different girl now. He grabbed her hands and kissed the back of each of them and she wriggled in her seat with pleasure and discomfort.

Sitting at her feet, he said in confidential tones, 'Now tell me about Laura, is she still the biggest bitch in the world?'

Nicola laughed. 'Don't call her that! But, yeah, kind of. On Thursday, when Mr Malone was giving back homework, he gave her Sophie's book instead. And she went, "Ew, I'm not touching this. Tell her to come and get it herself." '

'Oh, dear God. So what happened then?'

'Mr Malone tried to put his foot down, except he's, you know, not the greatest with discipline. In the end Hannah just got up and gave it back to her. Hannah's aces. And Mr Malone went, "You could learn something from Hannah's example," but when he turned his back Laura went ' Nicola stuck her tongue between her bottom lip and her teeth and made a 'nnnn' noise 'only Mr Malone turned round and caught her.' Nicola paused, and looked around at us all she had evidently surprised herself by her own lack of reserve 'I know we're supposed to have Christian charity for everyone, but I really hope she gets expelled.'

'Quite right too. It's no more than she deserves, the little minx.'

'Did I tell you what happened when we went to the cinema two weeks ago? And we were all wearing jeans? Except Sophie came in a proper flowery dress and Laura went, "Did your mum make that?" and Sophie went, "Yes"? Hannah and me were going, "Leave her alone," and she did in the end, but ' Nicola rolled her eyes 'she's just so horrible, Mark!'

'What a bitch,' said Mark, 'she'll come to a bad end, you mark my words. Now what about your family, how's everyone?'

As Nicola began to explain how Eloise was the most annoying person ever, while Leo was still a pet and her parents were ... I watched Mark's face. He was rapt, even his habitual tic-like flicking of his hair or fiddling with a cigarette had all but vanished. Nicola bloomed visibly under this attention. Her neck grew longer, her back straighter. As Mark asked in fine-grained detail about her family, her schoolfriends, her work, she was half-child half-adult with him, sometimes flirtatiously playing with her hair or touching his arm, at other moments becoming over-conscious of her actions and backing away. When he stood up and walked around the room her eyes followed him. When he walked into the kitchen to fetch tea and cake she followed him half in a daze.

Franny, observing all this from the far end of the room, looked up from her book as they walked out and said, 'I hope he knows a dog is for life, not just for Christmas.'

'Franny!' said Jess.

Franny rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

'What's this?' said Nicola.

I walked into the kitchen and saw that she was examining the gold and glass music box. Mark had left it carelessly on one of the shelves, apparently hoping that it might walk away of its own volition. It had become a little sticky and looked less than its glittering self.

'Oh, that?' said Mark. 'Just a music box. See, there's a key underneath you turn to make it play.'

'It's amazing,' said Nicola, lifting it up to wind the key. 'So pretty!'

She opened the lid and the twinkling notes spilled out.

'Do you like it?'

'It's beautiful,' said Nicola.

'Then it's yours,' he said. 'Take it.'

'Oh no, I can't.' She ran her fingers along the gold rim of the lid, touched the curved legs where the claws held the golden balls. 'I can't.'

'Of course you can. I don't want it. You can have it.'

She looked at him, thoughtful, with the earnestness of a teenager.

'No,' she said, 'I'll just enjoy it while I'm here.'

'Then you must come more often!' said Mark, and spun her a little waltz around the room as the box played to its end.

In the late afternoon, just as it was getting dark, we started to get ready. Dinner jackets and white shirts. Mark left his bow tie undone, starting, he said, as he meant to go on. We drank champagne on the landing while the girls rustled and giggled in Emmanuella's room.

'I hope you're not trying to peek!' called Franny, already two glasses of wine down, 'because I'm totally naked in here.'

'Oh,' said Jess, 'Franny, don't tease them. She's lying.'

'S'true, s'true,' said Franny, 'totally naked except for my bowler hat.'

And at last they stepped out. Jess in her indigo high-necked dress, Emmanuella in her caramel silk, Franny in her dark red velvet and finally Nicola, who had brought her dress in several black rubbish bags taped together, with the hanger hooks poking out of the top. She looked older, perhaps as much as five years older now. Her smattering of acne was covered with make-up, her hair pinned back in a pleat. Her dress was a sea-green confection, 1950s-style, with a nipped-in waist and layers of petticoats under the skirt so that it swung like a bell when she walked.

'My God,' said Mark, 'Nic, what fabulous tits!'

'That's my sister, mate,' said Simon, half-joking.

'Oh, sorry,' said Mark. 'I mean, "Nicola, what magnificent breasts." '

And we went to the ball.

Ostensibly, the ball's 'theme' was Christmas. Laser images of trees, stars and angels were projected on to the ancient walls and mottled drifts of fake snow were piled in the corners of the quads. But, in a cheerful exuberance of mixed messages, there was also a mariachi band in Front Quad and a stall selling tortillas. In Garden Quad a string quartet was gamely performing next to a troupe of wandering jugglers, while in Chapel Quad students in full evening dress were jumping up and down to a techno beat on a plywood dance floor.

'Look! Look!' said Nicola, leafing through her glossy programme, 'they've got a hypnotist and a graphologist and a fortune-teller and a masseur and an ABBA tribute band!'

She jumped up and down in excitement, careless of her high heels, and Mark joined in, the two of them holding hands and jumping in circles. In the corner of the quad, a young man was already vomiting, but the night had barely begun.

We walked through Front Quad, where the mariachis were playing a set the programme called 'Latin rhythms'.

'Come on,' said Mark. 'Come and dance.'

Nicola blushed and stared at him, as if uncertain whether he could really mean it.

'Come on,' he said again, tugging at her hand. 'It doesn't matter if you're rubbish. I'm a fantastic dancer.'

She raised her eyebrows and grinned.

'I'm not rubbish. I bet you're more rubbish than me.'

'Oh, is that so?'