Walking Beauty.part two

Two more students arrived before theirdome-headed, woolly jumpered tutor appeared out of what looked like a cupboard,but was probably a door to a side room. His name was P. J. Partridge and heknew more about an Alexandrian writer called Achilles Tatius than anyone whohad ever lived, unless you count Achilles Tatius’s own mother. Mr Partridgetwitched his nose at a first year Classics student and asked: “Are we allhere?”

Sally judged that this would be an idealmoment for somebody to give the sleeping girl a prod, but nobody was up to theventure. If this had been school, the teacher would have woken her up prettysharpish. In fact a mere yawn would have been worthy of a rebuke, but MrPartridge just ignored her. It wasn’t clear if he hadn’t noticed the girl onthe couch, or he was too shy to make a fuss about anyone who cared to sleepwhile he was giving out his wisdom.

When the tutor had finished handing out theterm’s reading list, there was a general shuffling and stirring as studentsslid notebooks into rucksacks and briefcases. The girl slumbered on as if shemeant to snooze for another 100 years.

Sally asked nobody in particular: “Is sheokay?”

“Well she can’t stay here,” said Mr Partridge. “I’m out to lunch.”

A tall youth, who would have been extremelygood looking if it wasn’t for his acne scars, went over to the couch and gentlyput his hand on her shoulder. He tried to stir her to no effect.

Sally suggested: “Perhaps the way to wake asleeping beauty is with a kiss?”

And the boy said: “Right, I’ll plant one onher.” He knelt on one knee and pressed his lips to her pale cheek. The girl’smouth smiled gently, lovingly.

“My prince,” she said.

“Wakie, wakie,” said the boy.

The girl hooked her arm around his head andpulled him towards her face.

“Woooooh!” chorused three or four voices.

She sat up and stared intensely at theyouthful faces, and then at the tutor’s. Her eyes were blue and glacial andSally thought that if she gazed at you long enough, she might freeze you intoan ice sculpture.

“And who are these peasants?” she demanded to know.

There was nervous laughter among thestudents, and most people started to leave. Only Sally, the Sleeping Beauty,and the boy who had kissed her lingered on. Mr Partridge started to usher themtoo out of the door. The face of the recently awoken girl wore a dark, butnonetheless beautiful, frown.

“I'm Basil,” said the kisser, as they stood on the dimly lit landing.

“Prince Basil?” asked the girl. He shook his head. “Sir Basil?”

“Nope. Just Basil.”

“Oh.”

They went downstairs and out into thedaylight of the quadrangle. The girl’s blue eyes searched up and down the wallsand ran along the battlements as if she was looking for some detail or hiddenclue.

“Is it a monastery?” she asked.

“No it’s a college,” said Basil bemused.

“Aren’t you an undergraduate here?” enquired Sally.

The girl looked like she was trying tounderstand the question.

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

“Well let’s find out,” said Basil. And he led the way to the Porter’sLodge. “What’s your name?” he asked on the way.

“Talia, that is, Princess Talia,” said the girl, and Sally thought:

“She’s bonkers. I bet she’s just making that up.”

She noticed that several people werestaring at Talia. She was certainly striking, and somewhat overdressed for astudent on the first day of term.