The Fifth Guest by Jenny Knight

Author:Jenny Knight [Knight, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2023-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

THEN

Hilary term, third year

GEORGE

Elle had no problem securing the Xylazine.

‘And no one noticed?’ George asked when she pulled up on her bike and took the bottle out of her bag, a little too blasé for George’s liking. He’d been waiting for her in a side street on his way back from the gym.

‘Christ, no. They’ve got bucket loads of the stuff. And if you saw the chaos there you’d be surprised all the drugs hadn’t been nicked. The amount of people who let their cats just wander off and get pregnant… it’s just so irresponsible, and we’ve got all these sick kittens…’

George usually cut her off when she went into a diatribe about cat welfare but he was more concerned about someone seeing the bottle. He pushed her hand back into her bag as he checked no one was around.

For George it still didn’t quite feel real. Like they were about to play a childhood prank. But Elle was very serious about it, trying to iron out the plan as they walked together, pushing their bikes. ‘Travis says it’s easy to get into the condemned building. From there, on the scaffolding, you can get to the parapet and Henry’s window.’ Henry’s room, of course, had skyline views and a makeshift balcony where the parapet wall joined the tiled roof. ‘You’ll have to unlock it when you’re in there with him the day before or something.’

George sniggered.

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘It’s exciting. It’s like we’re in a movie or something.’

Elle scowled and stopped walking. ‘It’s not exciting, George. It’s serious, we can’t mess it up.’

‘Sorry.’ Chastened, George gave her handlebars a little tug to make her start up again. They walked on in silence, over the Magdalen Bridge, tourists in punts being chauffeured along the water, trees reflecting in the stillness, until George said, ‘We’re not actually going to be in Oxford though. The whole squad moves to Putney in the lead up to the race.’

‘Oh, Jesus Christ! George!’

He made a suitably guilty face. ‘Sorry.’

Elle stopped abruptly under a chestnut tree and said, ‘Well, how will I get into a house in Putney?’

George shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

She closed her eyes for a second in disbelief. George waited, feeling like a fool for not thinking to mention it. Wondering if his Boat Race dreams were about to crumble before his eyes. But then, after a calming breath, to his relief she started to push her bike again. ‘Right. What kind of house is it?’

‘They’re really nice houses, actually,’ George said, ‘Victorian. Big gardens. The owner cooks for us and does our washing and last year her kid played PlayStation with us.’

Elle glanced across at him, brow raised at the luxury and pampering. ‘You lot. It’s like you all think you’re gods.’

‘We are, kind of,’ George said.

Elle shook her head. ‘No you’re not.’

The plan, in the end, relied on an unconventional tactic the coach was trialling. Rather than the crew sitting together the night before enjoying a carb-loading dinner and the traditional glass

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