‘That’s what she told me.’ I continue. ‘But you’re right, Marie-Claire; of course you’re right.’ I can’t contain the emotion in my voice. ‘I have no solid evidence, and no proof; only Lisa’s word, and unless she decides to take it forward, there’s really nothing more I can do.’ I shake my head in self-reproach. ‘You probably both think I’m a complete idiot for coming all this way.’
‘Of course not.’ Marie-Claire gets up and takes my hands in hers. ‘Just a loving aunt.’
‘For God’s sake, Kate, why are you apologising?’ Julia is furious. ‘We’ve all seen the way she carries on with that Turner lad!’
‘I’m not sure,’ says Marie-Claire, uneasily, ‘that her friendliness with Turner can be construed as anything other than that.’ She gives Julia a gentle warning look. ‘You know how you tend to jump into things, and not always with all the facts.’
There is a silent exchange between the two women, and I wonder if Julia’s headstrong sense of justice has gotten her into trouble before.
‘But if we could find out about her PhD,’ says Julia, seemingly not having heard Marie-Claire’s warning.
‘For all we know she may have completed her PhD,’ said Marie-Claire, ‘but didn’t sign the licence agreement to have it published online.’ I can tell which of the duo is more cautious.
‘Marie-Claire may be right,’ I say, hoping to stop an impending argument. ‘There seems to be no definitive way we can prove—’
‘Is she published in any academic journals?’ says Julia, returning her keen eye to the computer screen. ‘Does she have a LinkedIn profile?’
Marie-Claire places a hand on her fiancée’s. ‘This is not our battle, Julia.’
‘If she’s guilty of academic misconduct, it is!’
‘Please don’t argue,’ I beg. ‘I never planned to get anyone else involved, and I certainly don’t want you to do anything that might get you both into trouble.’ I’m going to have to extricate at least one of these women from any further involvement if I’m going to get the answers I need. It was all becoming too messy and too dangerous. ‘I’m sorry for dragging you both into this. I hope it hasn’t ruined the summer school for you both.’
‘Ruined it?’ Julia yells. ‘It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all bloody week!’
Smiling tightly, Marie-Claire gently prises the empty bottle of wine from Julia’s hands. ‘I think we’ve all had enough to drink, don’t you?’ She opens the bedroom door. ‘I’m going outside for a quick smoke, and then perhaps afterwards we can all make our way to the dining hall for something to eat.’ She turns back to her fiancée. ‘And maybe no more wine for you, eh chérie?’
I watch in relief as the bedroom door slams shut behind Marie-Claire.
‘Julia,’ I say softly, and blatantly contradicting my earlier statement about not wanting to get either of them into trouble add, ‘I really, really need your help.’
I wait until I see the smoke rising from Marie-Claire’s cigarette in the courtyard below before telling Julia the full story.
‘I found another of Desra’s students,’ I begin, ‘from when she was a coach in Canada.’ Julia’s eyes widen, but she says nothing. ‘It just so happens that he won a scholarship,’ I show her the Lakeview College post, ‘and he’s studying here, at St Andrews.’
Julia face is unreadable. ‘So this isn’t just about her stealing your niece’s poetry, is it?’
‘I wondered about her being in her teacher’s flat as well.’ This is getting dangerously close to the truth, but I must carry on. I point to the image of the handsome, smiling Alistair on the Lakeview College alumni page. ‘He’s a lot like Turner, don’t you think?’
‘Shit,’ whispers Julia. ‘You think she might have …’ she stumbles for the words, ‘you know, with this Alistair person, when she was a teacher in Canada?’
‘That’s what I want to find out.’
Julia stands up and walks out of the room. Is this all too much for her? I glance out the window to see if Marie-Claire has finished her cigarette, and I am relieved to see her chatting animatedly to Dave. Just when I’m certain she won’t be coming back, the door opens, and Julia enters clutching a bottle of vodka. ‘For courage,’ she mutters.
It takes a few minutes for Julia to settle; first a sip or two of vodka, and then a return to the Lakeview website to re-read the entry about Alistair’s scholarship at St Andrews. Finally, she speaks.
‘What exactly do you want from me, Kate?’
‘If you could just help me to find out if he’s arrived in Scotland—’
‘No way,’ says Julia, shaking her head.
‘The new university term starts in a few weeks. He may be here already.’
‘And if he is?’
‘I can do something about it.’ I know I’m giving away far too much, but it’s Wednesday, and there’s only two more days left of summer school. I’ve got to push. ‘If Desra did try something on with Alistair, like she may have with Lisa, like you think she is with Turner, then we need to do something about it.’
Julia lets out a long, deep sigh. ‘You really are obsessed, aren’t you?’
I hold her gaze and know exactly what to say next. ‘All I want is justice.’
‘What did you say his surname was?’
Julia is sitting at my desk, her eyes focused on my computer keyboard.
‘March,’ I reply. ‘Alistair March. He’s a first year International Relations student.’
Julia leans back from the keyboard and turns to look at me. ‘You must never ever tell anyone I did this,’ she whispers, ‘especially Marie-Claire.’ I nod. ‘Not only is it illegal; if I’m found out it could cost me my job and incur a huge fine for the university.’
‘Of course not,’ I say softly. ‘It’s our secret.’
I watch as she enters her password to access the student database, then enters March, A. A photograph appears. It’s him. Then a list of subheadings, including enrolment, assessments and personal information.
‘Here we are.’ Julia squints to read the small text. ‘Alistair March. Agnes Blackadder, eh?’
