Fosca said this with a wink, and it got a laugh. He let the laughter subside, and went on in a more serious tone.

‘Imagine it. Just for a second. Imagine being there – imagine the excitement and the apprehension. All those people meeting at midnight by the Oracle of the Dead – and being led by the priests into the chambers of the rock – into the caves within. The only lights were torches carried by the priests. How dark and smoky it must have been. Cold, wet stone, going deeper and deeper underground, into a vast chamber – a liminal space, on the very border of the Underworld. The Telesterion, where the mysteries took place. It was huge – forty-two towering marble columns – a forest made of stone. It could accommodate thousands of initiates at one time and was big enough to house another temple – the Anaktoron, the sacred space where only the priests themselves could enter – where the relics of the Maiden were kept.’

Fosca’s black eyes sparkled as he spoke. He was seeing it all before him, as he conjured it up with his words, as if casting a spell.

‘We’ll never know exactly what happened there – the mystery of Eleusis remains, after all, a mystery – but at dawn, the initiates emerged into the light, having undergone an experience of death and rebirth – and with a new understanding of what it means to be human – to be alive.’

He paused, and stared at the audience for a moment. He spoke in a different tone, now – quiet, impassioned, emotional.

‘Let me tell you something – this is what those old Greek plays are about. What it means to be human. What it means to be alive. And if you miss that when you read them – if all you see is a bunch of dead words – then you’re missing the whole damn thing. I don’t just mean in the plays – I mean in your lives, right now. If you’re not aware of the transcendent, if you’re not awake to the glorious mystery of life and death that you’re lucky enough to be part of – if that doesn’t fill you with joy and strike you with awe … you might as well not be alive. That’s the message of the tragedies. Participate in the wonder. For your sake – for Tara’s sake – live it.’

You could have heard a pin drop. And then – sudden, loud, emotional, spontaneous applause.

The applause went on for some time.

11

Zoe and Mariana queued on the stairs to exit the lecture theatre.

‘Well?’ Zoe said, giving her a curious look. ‘What did you think?’

Mariana laughed. ‘You know, “dazzling” is a good word.’

Zoe smiled. ‘Told you so.’

They emerged into the sunlight. Mariana considered the crowds of students milling around. ‘Are they here? The Maidens?’

Zoe nodded. ‘Over there.’

She pointed at six young women gathered around a bench, talking. Four of them were standing, two were sitting; a couple were smoking.

Unlike the other students milling around the faculty, these girls weren’t scruffy or eccentrically dressed. Their clothes were elegant and looked expensive. They all took care of themselves, and were made-up, well groomed, manicured. Most distinctive of all was the way they held themselves: with an obvious air of confidence, even superiority.

Mariana considered them for a moment. ‘They don’t look friendly; you’re right.’

‘They’re not. They’re such snobs. They think they’re so “important”. I guess they are – but still …’

‘Why do you say that? Why are they important?’

Zoe shrugged. ‘Well …’ She pointed at a tall blonde perched on the armrest of the bench. ‘For instance – that’s Carla Clarke. Her dad is Cassian Clarke.’

‘Who?’

‘Oh, Mariana. He’s an actor. He’s really famous.’

Mariana smiled. ‘I see. Okay. And the others?’

Zoe proceeded to discreetly point out the other members of the group. ‘The one on the left, the pretty one with the short dark hair? That’s Natasha. She’s Russian. Her dad’s an oligarch or something – he owns half of Russia … Diya is an Indian princess – she got the highest first in the university last year. She’s practically a genius – she’s talking to Veronica – her dad is a senator – I think he ran for president—’ She glanced at Mariana. ‘Get the idea …?’

‘I do. You mean they’re intelligent – and highly privileged.’

Zoe nodded. ‘Just hearing about their holidays is enough to make you throw up. It’s always yachts and private islands and ski chalets …’

Mariana smiled. ‘I can imagine.’

‘No wonder everyone hates them.’

Mariana glanced at her. ‘Does everyone hate them?’

Zoe shrugged. ‘Well, everyone’s jealous, anyway.’

Mariana thought for a second. ‘Okay. Let’s give it a shot.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s talk to them – about Tara, and Fosca.’

‘Now?’ Zoe shook her head. ‘No way. That’ll never work.’

‘Why not?’

‘They don’t know you, so they’ll clam up – or turn on you – particularly if you mention the professor. Trust me, don’t.’

‘Sounds like you’re afraid of them.’

Zoe nodded. ‘I am. Terrified.’

Before Mariana could respond, she saw Professor Fosca walk out of the lecture-theatre building. He went up to the girls, and they gathered closely around him, whispering intimately.

‘Come on,’ said Mariana.

‘What? No, Mariana, don’t—’

But she ignored Zoe, and marched over to Fosca and the students.

He looked up as Mariana approached. He smiled.

‘Good afternoon, Mariana,’ Fosca said. ‘I thought I saw you in the lecture theatre.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I hope you enjoyed it.’

Mariana searched for the right words. ‘It was very … informative. Very impressive.’

‘Thank you.’

Mariana looked at the young women gathered around the professor. ‘Are these your students?’

Fosca glanced at the young women with a slight smile. ‘Some of them. Some of the more interesting ones.’

Mariana smiled at the students. They returned her gaze stonily, a blank wall.

‘I’m Mariana,’ she said. ‘Zoe’s aunt.’

She looked around, but Zoe hadn’t followed her over and was nowhere to be seen. Mariana turned back to the others, smiling.

‘You know, I couldn’t help but notice you at the service for Tara. You all stood out, wearing white.’ She gave them a smile. ‘I’m curious why.’

There was a slight hesitation. Then one of them, Diya, glanced at Fosca, and said, ‘It was my idea. In India, we always wear white at burials. And white was Tara’s favourite colour, so …’

She shrugged, and another girl completed the sentence for her.

‘So we wore white in her honour.’

‘She hated black,’ said another.

‘I see,’ said Mariana, nodding. ‘That’s interesting.’

She smiled again at the girls. They didn’t smile back.

There was a slight pause. Mariana glanced at Fosca. ‘Professor. I have a favour to ask.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Well, the dean has asked me, as a psychotherapist, to have a few informal chats with the pupils, see how they are coping with what’s happened.’ She glanced at the girls. ‘Can I borrow some of your students?’

Mariana said this as innocently as she could, but now, as she kept looking at the girls, she could feel Fosca’s laser-like eyes on her – staring at her, trying to size her up. She could imagine him thinking, wondering if she were genuine – or secretly trying to check up on him. He glanced at his watch.

‘We’re about to have a class,’ he said. ‘But I dare say I can spare a couple of them.’ He nodded at two of the girls. ‘Veronica? Serena? How about it?’

The two young women glanced at Mariana. It was impossible to read their feelings.

‘Sure,’ said Veronica with a shrug. She spoke with an American accent. ‘I mean, I’ve already got a shrink … But I’ll have a drink if she’s buying.’

Serena nodded. ‘I will too.’

‘Okay, then. A drink it is.’ Mariana smiled at Fosca. ‘Thank you.’

Fosca’s dark eyes fixed on Mariana’s face. He smiled back at her.

‘A pleasure, Mariana. I sincerely hope you get everything you want.’

12

Mariana found Zoe skulking by the entrance as she left the English Faculty. She asked Zoe to join them – and the offer of a drink made her cautiously accept. They made their way to a St Christopher’s College bar that was located in a corner of Main Court.

The college bar was entirely made of wood – old, warped, and knotted floorboards, oak-panelled walls, and a large wooden bar. Mariana and the three young women sat together at the large oak table by the window, which overlooked an ivy-covered wall outside. Mariana sat next to Zoe, opposite Veronica and Serena.

Mariana had recognised Veronica as the young woman who gave an emotional Bible reading at Tara’s service. Her name was Veronica Drake, and she came from a wealthy American political family – her father was a senator in Washington.