Chapter One #2
I hear Ollie volunteer to help Ben go up and down the stairs with his boxes so that no one steals all his stuff, seeing as it’s littering the path outside our building for anyone to take. The two of them seem to be bonding over the excessive weight of whatever Ben has brought with him.
‘They’re nice, aren’t they?’ Mum says with a little wink. I know this is code for they’re very good-looking.
I agree with a silent nod.
‘Wonder who your fourth flatmate will be?’ she ponders.
I wonder this too. I hope it’s another female.
On the accommodation application it asked if I wanted a single-sex flat and I let my mind remain on that section for about five minutes before I said no.
I didn’t want the possibility of a bitchy-all-girl-vibe to potentially litter any chance of happiness here.
Although seeing as there’s only four rooms to this flat, it might have been OK?
Or maybe worse? I’ll never know now. Ben and Ollie will be fun flatmates.
Or rather Ben will. We just need to open Ollie up.
Like a Ferrari that hasn’t yet been shown a motorway. I’m sure he’ll warm up soon.
People scattered in flats across the building knock at our open door to introduce themselves.
The all-male flat nine from across the corridor arrive en masse to bring six-packs of beer to hand out.
They already look half-cut, getting on together fabulously, like a US college fraternity.
We’re decidedly awkward compared to them.
My mum’s loving this. She never went to university; she takes great pains to remind me I’m the first one in our family ever to apply for a place, let alone get one.
I think she regrets that she was born in the time she was, that she left school without any qualifications.
Although getting jobs back then without qualifications was a total breeze.
I’ve got all that job-hunting worry to come in three years when I finish here.
I’ve been here five minutes, I really must stop thinking about the end.
I must stop wishing my life away so that I can earn money.
For now, I’m on a student loan I’ll probably never be able to pay back, and scant savings from all those waitressing gigs I did through the summer.
I’ve got to make it last and I also need to get a job evenings and weekends, if I can, to keep it topped up.
I do hope I’ll have time to socialise too, though.
Just one night a week in the union bar would suit me fine.
Ben hands me a can of beer that flat nine have eagerly distributed in a bid to make friends.
They’ve moved off to try it on with flat eight.
Promises are dispensed liberally about a block party this evening when everyone’s settled in.
Mum’s opening up the vodka and Diet Coke and getting our party started.
I feel bad, but a little part of me thinks she should shuffle off home now.
She’s the only parent still here. Ben’s parents, after parking their honking great Defender, climbed the stairs dressed as if they were going to a wedding and then left Ben to it a while ago.
His dad was wearing red trousers. I’ve never seen red trousers on a man.
Quite eye-catching. They didn’t seem in a hurry to get to a wedding, so I wonder if that’s how they usually dress.
They’re very elegant and well spoken. I noticed Ben changed his accent a little when they appeared, pronouncing all his Ts.
I think he’d been dimming it down for us, a bit more Millwall than Marlborough.
‘So what made you choose London?’ Ben asks, that wide, genuine smile never leaving his face.
‘I love London,’ I say as we clink our beer cans together.
‘But don’t you live in London already?’ He casts his eyes around my room, taking in my clunky second-hand laptop, my rows and rows of books lining the two small shelves, stacked in every direction because I’ve brought them all with me from home.
‘It’s nice to be close to home. Close to Mum. Close to everything going on in the world.’
‘The world’s a lot bigger than London,’ Ben suggests with a smile.
‘Why are you here then?’ I counter.
‘Because I’ve lived in the countryside my entire life and now I want some fun.’
‘Exactly,’ I concur.
‘Hmm,’ Ben says, his eyes meeting mine. He’s the same height as me, I notice. This rarely happens. Men are often shorter, which makes dating a bit of a chore. Sooner rather than later someone comments on it. ‘You’re really bloody tall,’ he points out.
Ah, there it is.
I laugh. ‘Yes. I am.’
‘How tall are you?’ he enquires.
‘Five eleven.’
He offers no opinion. I notice he’s finished his beer already and I’m only a few sips into mine. Ben scrunches up the can, puts it in my waste-paper bin. ‘Want another?’
‘In a bit,’ I laugh, watching him as he goes.
I expect him to move off after that, talk to Ollie or stake out the other flats for an atmosphere more vibrant than ours.
But he comes back to me with a fresh can, cracks it open and it hisses noisily, spitting beer over his hand. Ben doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Full confession,’ he says. ‘I got in through Clearing.’
My eyebrows rise. ‘Did you?’
‘Yeah,’ he continues. ‘Didn’t get the grades for my father’s beloved Oxford, so …’ he shrugs, ‘here I am.’
‘At an ex-polytechnic college turned university. They must be so proud.’
He chuckles. ‘It wasn’t my first choice, I’ll admit. But now … I’m grateful for a place and had to work very hard to convince the olds that I should just take it and get on with my life, rather than trying to do resits and wait for a place at Oxford that might never come.’
‘Wise.’
‘I thought so,’ he says knowingly and we smile. My mum’s right. Ben is good-looking and he’s easy to get on with.
‘So you didn’t get in through Clearing?’ he tests. He wants me to say I did. But I didn’t. I chose to be here, because of all the above-mentioned reasons.
‘No. This was my first choice.’
He looks doubtful. ‘Was it? Really?’
I nod.
‘Are you having me on?’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘No. It’s got the course I want, and I loved the library here.’
‘You don’t look like a reader,’ he says. ‘And yet … all these books.’
My head twitches a bit. ‘Why don’t I look like a reader? I’m studying English Literature.’
‘Are you?’ he asks, his voice rising in disbelief.
‘Yeah, what are you studying?’
‘I’m reading Business and Finance,’ he says.
I can’t help it, but I roll my eyes. Not because of the subject choice – which isn’t really a surprise – but it winds me up when people say they’re ‘reading’ instead of ‘studying’. I refuse to conform. It’s too arsey.
‘Why did you just roll your eyes?’ Ben asks, baulking at my expression. ‘Don’t think I didn’t see that.’
‘It was the way you phrased it,’ I say.
‘In what way, please?’
‘Never mind.’
‘No, no. Go on.’ He’s really trying to pin me down on this.
‘“Reading”. Not “studying”.’
‘Yeah?’ He’s confused, and now I’m really showing my ignorance.
That’s what’s happening here: I’m showing my ignorance and getting myself into a pickle. Let’s move on. ‘Never mind. Your parents are nice, aren’t they?’ I say.
‘Yeah. Mostly.’
‘Your dad has a fun sense of fashion. Red trousers.’ I wiggle my eyebrows to let him know I’m playing with him.
‘Those fucking trousers. Dad insists. He normally wears a panama hat this time of year too. Not today, though. We had words.’
I laugh.
Ben’s taken his sunglasses off now. His eyes are almond-shaped, a light shade of blue, and his sandy-blond hair is floppy at the front. He pushes it out of his eyes, takes me in. There’s a moment between us, sizzling with a quiet energy I can’t place.
‘Another drink?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, go on.’
‘Hello!’ someone shouts from the front door, still propped open and contravening all fire-safety regulations. ‘Anyone here?’
Ben, Ollie and I have been sitting in my room.
After my mum left, with many tears on both sides while we said goodbye, Ollie naturally found his way towards us, clutching offerings of crisps and booze.
We’ve decided to wait for our fourth flatmate rather than leave them alone while we go to party with flat nine, although we’ve been back and forth a tiny bit and gone to the other flats to say hi.
Some are up for chats, some are a bit silent, and I wonder how it is that like-minded people seem to have been placed together.
Ben, Ollie and I so far seem like kindred spirits, now that Ollie’s had a drink and has started opening up about himself.
Flat nine are essentially a frat party, and flat eight are all studying Computer Science. That’ll come in handy when my predictably unpredictable laptop breaks down. As long as our fourth is like-minded, we’ll be a happy little flat for the next year, I think.
The three of us leap up from our various positions on the floor and head to the hall as someone announces themselves again.
‘Hi,’ an incredibly pretty blonde says in a cut-glass accent. ‘I’m Oli.’
Boy Ollie has had a few drinks and says in a friendly voice, ‘Nope. That’s me. I’m Ollie.’
‘Oh … er …’ she says, ‘I’m Olivia.’
‘Maybe you can be Liv then,’ Ben suggests.
‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ I tell Ben, ushering her into the flat. ‘You can’t just give someone a new name.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind a new name,’ Olivia/Liv replies genially. ‘I can be Liv, if it makes things easier.’
‘That’s very big of you,’ boy Ollie says. I think he might be drunk. I’ll encourage him to eat some more crisps in a moment.
‘Well, you can’t exactly be Liv, can you?’ she says with a tinkling laugh.
‘He cannot,’ Ben declares. ‘Welcome, Liv. Welcome. We’ve hung back for you and then, when you’re settled, we thought we’d go and join the block party.’
‘Oh, fab! Thanks, guys,’ she says and looks as if she really is grateful.
‘Although I’ve just come from the block party, as it sort of barred my path on the stairs.
I’ve met some nice people and some of the Computer Science boys carried my luggage up here for me, which was so sweet.
Flat nine are nice, aren’t they? I don’t think they’ve got real names as they introduced themselves to me collectively as “flat nine”. ’
We welcome the newly christened Liv into our midst; Ben hands her a drink, Ollie smiles as if this is the best day of his life, while I attempt to get him to eat some more crisps to soak up the booze.
And as we talk to and at each other and laugh at each other’s jokes and slowly, tentatively begin forging friendships, I know – I just feel – that the four of us are already forging something special.
And in a freshly drunken haze I know that even though university is what unites us now, and even if we drift gently in and out of each other’s lives over the following years like the ebb and flow of a tide, the four of us are going to be unbreakable.
Or maybe I am really drunk.