G Malliet - Death at the Alma Mater

They were getting ready to start the race. The Light Blues were heavier than their rivals this year. The heavier boat was thought to have an edge, but that wasn't a given. They were good this year, thought Sebastian. Really, really good. They could do this. Barring an accident, barring a clash. If the wind would cooperate. He flexed his arms, resettled his hands on the oar. He stole a sideways look at Oxford. God, but those guys were tall. Then, remembering what the coach had said about positive thinking: Wimps! he telegraphed. Wankers!

The noise was deafening, the excited crowd already screaming in anticipation. Television helicopters roared overhead. A flotilla of assorted support vessels bobbed about, ready to add to the cacophony. All his senses were on high alert as he waited, trying to focus on nothing but the first stroke.

He looked at Saffron, sitting behind the cox-box. She looked back calmly, adjusting her microphone, waiting for the signal. Suddenly the wind pushed the boat about and her hand shot up to warn the umpire they weren't ready. The boat straightened, she lowered her hand.

Into the microphone she said, "Okay, we're straight. Oxford's hand is up… Now his hand is down. Boys, we're ready."

She gave Seb a slow wink. She'd broken off with him in Michaelmas Term and he'd spent most of Lent Term trying to win her back. She had changed, or perhaps he had, but the events surrounding the murder of Lexy Laurant seemed to have fundamentally altered Saffron. She was less girl, more woman now. And to possess her seemed to Sebastian the only thing in life worth achieving.

Sometimes, as just now, he thought maybe he was still in with a chance, but then he'd see her walking down Jesus Lane or King's Parade with some tall, handsome bloke or other. She was suddenly very popular, was Saffy. It was driving him crazy.

Don't think about that now.

He took a deep breath.

Concentrate on the first stroke.

He heard the umpire shout, "ATTENTION… GO!"

And they were off.