‘Leon, you’re incredible,’ said Maggie. ‘Where did you learn to play like that? And how come I’ve never heard you?’

  Leon shrugged again. ‘I don’t play that often here. There never seems to be time. Sometimes, late at night . . .’

  Maggie had heard haunting jazz sax playing when she’d been writing essays in the small hours, but it had never occurred to her that the music was actually live.

  ‘I’ve heard you,’ she said. ‘Or at least, I think I have, but I didn’t realise it was you. I thought it was just someone playing a record. It never crossed my mind. I mean, I’m sorry, I just had no idea.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Leon, turning to put the sax back on the stand.

  ‘Well, that’s it,’ said Angie definitely. ‘You’re dropping chemical engineering right now! What a waste! You should be in London playing Ronnie Scott’s. Or somewhere in New Orleans.’

  Leon came back to the corridor and sat on the floor. He picked up his half-drunk can and dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That life’s not for me. I need a proper job. One that will actually pay the mortgage that I’m hoping to get.’

  ‘But you can’t do that,’ Angie insisted. ‘Not now. You owe it to yourself to be a musician. Hell, with a talent like that you owe it to the world.’

  Leon’s cheeks blazed and he squirmed slightly, clearly uncomfortable at being in the spotlight for so long.

  He nodded at the guitar that was still in Tiger’s hands. ‘Your turn,’ he said.

  ‘I am never playing again after that!’ replied Tiger with a grin. ‘What am I but some totally untalented hack?’

  But he did lift the guitar again and started to pick out ‘Hotel California’.

  ‘Don’t you know anything from this decade?’ asked one of the others in a mocking tone, and Tiger immediately stopped playing mid-line.

  ‘There’s nothing from this decade worth playing,’ he replied.

  ‘Touché,’ said Maggie, and then wished she hadn’t in case it made her sound over-intellectual. She felt warmth creeping up her throat, although the wine wasn’t helping in that regard either.

  ‘Fair point,’ muttered the heckler.

  Angie was still staring at Leon as if no one else was present.

  ‘Seriously, Leon,’ she said. ‘You have to do something with that talent. I mean. Seriously.’

  Leon still looked decidedly uncomfortable. His ears and neck had gone red as well, pimples standing out angrily, and he stared resolutely at the carpet as if hoping that this would make Angie stop chiding him.

  After a few moments, she seemed to give up and started talking to the others. She was right, though, Maggie thought. Leon really should make more of his talent, but she understood his thought processes. It was far more sensible to get a degree and a real job, and then play his music as a hobby; a wonderful one, but still a hobby.

  They stayed in the corridor chatting and drinking for a while longer until they started to get complaints from some of the other residents about the noise levels.

  ‘I think we’ve outstayed our welcome,’ said one of Angie’s gang, as another door opened and then banged shut, the occupant expressing their displeasure. ‘Shall we head over to the Union?’

  Maggie wasn’t keen on that idea. She was already up later than she’d intended to be. But then again, there was the draw of Tiger. If he was going to the Union, then perhaps she should go, too.

  ‘I think I’ll call it a night,’ said Leon ruefully. ‘I’ve got a nine o’clock lecture. I really should . . .’

  ‘Don’t be so boring,’ laughed Angie. ‘You’ve got the rest of your life to go to bed early. Come to the Union with us!’

  Leon was obviously wavering. He looked at Maggie as if she could answer his quandary for him, but she just shrugged.

  ‘Oh, what the hell!’ he said. ‘I’m in.’

  This was so unlike Leon, Maggie thought, wondering whether she had got him all wrong after all. She was glad, though. He was such a lovely person, and it would do him good to be out. This thought made Maggie feel like his mother, so she dismissed it and turned her attention back to Tiger. He too seemed a little reluctant to go to the Students’ Union. Maggie felt that he was holding back. Was he waiting to see what she was going to do before he committed? She hardly dared even think that.

  Angie’s friends stood up, making complaining noises about pins and needles in legs and feet, and soon they were ambling noisily down the corridor with Leon in tow. Angie herself had disappeared back into her room to replace the guitar, leaving Maggie and Tiger alone in the corridor.

  ‘So, Mags,’ he said. ‘You coming?’

  Her dilemma was almost palpable. She also had early lectures and a tutorial that she needed to be sharp for. She had had enough to drink for one night, too. Any more would risk a hangover, which she could ill afford. And the Students’ Union wasn’t the ideal place for the intimate tête-a-tête that she had in mind. It could be so loud in there that it was almost impossible to have a decent conversation.

  ‘Or we could just go for a walk around the lake,’ he suggested, leaning in towards her so that his thigh brushed hers. His voice was softer now that there were just the two of them. ‘I promise not to push you in,’ he added with a smile. He seemed different, less brash, the performance that his life seemed to be paused for a moment.

  Maggie raised an eyebrow as if to say that if he even tried to push her in she wouldn’t hesitate in taking her revenge, but before she had time to reply Angie reappeared wearing the moth-eaten Afghan coat that made Maggie’s skin crawl.

  ‘Right!’ Angie said. ‘Let’s go,’ and set off after the others.

  Maggie dithered for a second, but it was too long.

  ‘Definitely not coming?’ asked Tiger, taking a step away from her. The electricity escaped immediately.

  Maggie’s heart sank and then her irritation rose. What was going on here? It felt like he was two people – the gentle romantic who had suggested a quiet moonlit walk, and the life-and-soul party animal that he was with Angie. Her mind flicked to John Travolta’s character in Grease.

  Well, that wasn’t good enough for Maggie. He was either interested in her or he wasn’t. There were no half measures.

  ‘No,’ she said decisively. ‘I don’t fancy it.’

  This was a lie, but she looked Tiger straight in the eye as she delivered it. She saw the tiniest twist of his mouth, the raise of an eyebrow, but then he set off up the corridor, catching up with Angie in three steps.

  ‘Sleep tight then, Maggie,’ he called out over his shoulder without turning round. ‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

  Angie slipped her arm through his as they walked, relaxed, unselfconscious. ‘God, do you remember those bed bugs in Goa . . .’ she began, and then they pushed through the double doors and were gone.

  Maggie let herself back into her room, fighting her feelings of disappointment. She’d made the right decision, she told herself. In fact, she had probably just had a narrow escape, not allowing herself to be seduced by a bloke who was basically a dick. Tiger would definitely turn out to be a player. He certainly looked like one. It was a wise move on her part not to get involved. She would save herself some heartache later on.

  But as she tucked herself up into her narrow bed and flicked off the light, she thought about his expression when she had turned him down. She was sure she’d seen a trace of regret in his eyes.

  9

  Maggie hadn’t given much thought to who she might move in with for the second year, but when she overheard some other first years discussing it in the refectory, she realised that she needed to. The idea had popped into her head earlier in the term but then she had got so caught up with her course and thoughts of the coming exams that it had drifted out again. Actually, if she was being completely honest, this wasn’t true. She had pushed the idea out of her mind because it was a problem that she wasn’t entirely sure how to solve.

  As the year had worn on, not much had changed with her social life. Whilst Maggie had got to know people on her course a little better, there was no one amongst them that she would feel comfortable approaching about accommodation for the following year. In fact, she thought that she might have missed the boat in any event. Going by the overheard conversation, it appeared that people had already split into groups and were searching for houses accordingly. She would have to live with someone, though. That much was obvious, as she couldn’t afford to rent a place on her own.

  Then her mother had raised the subject.

  They generally spoke on a Sunday morning after ‘The Archers’ omnibus, her mother ringing the public pay phone in the corridor. Maggie would sit on the floor beneath the handset waiting for it to ring and hoping that no other call came in in the interim.

  ‘Have you had a productive week?’ was always her mother’s predictable opening gambit, and Maggie would confirm that she had indeed, whether it was true or not. In her carefully curated weekly reports to her mother, she made sure that she never gave any cause for concern. Her mother was likely to panic if she thought anything was not the best it could possibly be, and it was preferable to let her think that. And actually, there was no cause for concern. Maggie’s life at university was progressing as she felt it should. She was getting good marks, and all was on track for her eventual step up to the next stage of her plan.

  ‘I was talking to Jenny,’ her mother said next.

  Maggie’s heart sank. Whenever her mother spoke to the mothers of Maggie’s friends, she always came back with some life detail or other that Maggie was either lacking or failing in.

  ‘She said that Louise has found a house for next year already. You haven’t told me where you’ll be living in September,’ she said, her voice slightly petulant. ‘It was terribly awkward, Jenny knowing all the details about Louise and me knowing nothing. I just had to bluster and make things up. I think I got away with it. You have got somewhere to live, I assume. And with some nice people.’

  She pressed the word ‘nice’ and Maggie understood exactly what her mother meant. ‘Nice’ meant suitable, from good, solid middle-class homes, preferably where the parents still occupied the same house, and who were studying ‘proper’ subjects like her. Maggie could count on the fingers of one hand the people that she knew in York who would fit her mother’s definition and she didn’t like most of them.

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Maggie instantly. ‘It’s all organised.’

  ‘So, tell me,’ her mother insisted. ‘I don’t want to have to be caught on the hop again.’

  Well, if you stopped gossiping about me and trying to show off how well I’m doing at every turn, then you wouldn’t get into awkward situations, thought Maggie.

  ‘There are just one or two details still to iron out,’ she replied vaguely, ‘but as soon as I know everything, I’ll let you know. I have to go now, Mum,’ she lied. ‘There’s a huge queue for the phone. I’ll tell you more next time. Thanks for ringing.’

  Maggie put the phone down and looked up and down the empty corridor. This house business needed addressing. And soon.

  She retrieved her ten pence pieces from the top of the phone and went to knock on Leon’s door.

  ‘Come in,’ came Leon’s familiar voice.

  Maggie opened the door, bracing herself for the customary chaos. Leon was at his desk, poring over textbooks that were almost as thick as her law ones. His bedding was strewn in a heap that draped across the end of the bed and on to the floor. Maggie suppressed a shudder.

  ‘Morning,’ she said brightly.

  When he saw who it was, Leon’s face lit up, or at least that was how Maggie interpreted his expression.

  ‘Have you got a minute?’ she asked, suddenly feeling a little shy about what she was about to ask him.

  ‘Of course!’ he replied enthusiastically. ‘Come in. Sit down.’ He waved his hand around the room as if indicating that she could pick her spot, but there was something far too intimate about sitting on his unmade bed, and no other option. She stayed standing.

  Maggie hadn’t really given any thought to what she was going to say, coming as she had, directly from the conversation with her mother. She didn’t want to look desperate, but he might know of somewhere that would suit her. In the moment, she decided that it would be best to just come out with it.

  ‘I was just wondering where you’re going to live next year. We haven’t really talked about it, have we? It’s going to feel really strange, us not living opposite one another any more, but we’ll keep in touch, I hope.’ She tried not to sound too doubtful about this. She did really want to stay friends, although it might be hard if they ended up in different parts of York.

  Leon slumped into his seat and blew his lips out. ‘It’s a bit of a nightmare,’ he said. ‘I think I missed the boat when everyone else was sorting theirs out. It all happened so early in the year and I couldn’t get my head round it. But then the people I know got themselves into little gangs and found places and I was left out. I reckon I’m just going to have to go back home and come in by train every day. The journey will be hell, but I’m not sure what else I can do now. It’s too late.’

  Maggie nodded as she contemplated the larger hell that would be having to live at home with her parents again, although Leon didn’t seem to share her aversion to families. Perhaps his was reasonable and easy to live alongside.

  But then a more relevant thought started to take shape in her head. Maybe she could live with Leon? She liked him well enough. In fact, there was very little to dislike about him. He was generally cheerful, didn’t seem to smell, closed his mouth when he chewed and didn’t do any of the other things that she considered to be dealbreakers. He was a boy, of course, which was a mark against him. It wasn’t that there was anything between them – Maggie would never think of him in those terms – but she knew the fact that they really were ‘just good friends’ would make no difference to her sceptical and mistrusting mother. It might be better if there were a gang of them living together, a couple of each sex. That would feel less odd. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  The thoughts were all racing so hard around her head that she didn’t realise that Leon had spoken to her until she saw that he was staring at her expectantly.

  ‘Sorry, what?’ she said.

  ‘I said, what about you? Where are you going to live?’

  ‘I haven’t got anywhere either,’ she confessed. ‘I just, well, I’m not sure what happened actually, but somehow I haven’t sorted it. I thought I might ask them whether we can stay in halls in the second year. There may be some places somewhere.’

  As she said this, it crossed her mind that it might be the perfect solution. It would certainly be the easiest.

  But Leon was shaking his head. ‘Third years only, apparently,’ he said, ‘I already asked,’ and Maggie’s little bubble burst.

  She sighed. How had she let this happen? It was so unlike her, but maybe in the back of her head she had been hoping for this solution all along, but just hadn’t wanted to be the one who brought it up in case Leon got the wrong idea.

  ‘And of course, Angie’s not fixed anything up either. She’s not even looking for a place. She says she’s just going to crash on people’s floors and sofa-surf her way through the year.’

  Maggie tutted. ‘That’s so like her. She’s so impractical.’ As she said this, she tried to cast from her mind the thought that, in this matter at least, she and Angie appeared to be exactly the same.

  ‘Actually,’ said Leon, ‘if she can make it work, I’d say it was a pretty good idea. She won’t have to pay any rent, for a start.’

  Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘She’s such a freeloader. Does she have no shame?!’

  The solution to their collective problems was obvious now, but Maggie hesitated, unwilling to take the plunge. The conversation stalled for a moment as they each seemed to be considering their next moves.

  Leon bit his lip for a moment and then he said, ‘Shoot me down if it’s a crap idea, but what if we looked for somewhere together – the two of us? Or even the three of us. There are bound to be some houses left, especially smaller ones. Might be fun?’ he added doubtfully.

  ‘Maybe,’ Maggie replied, keen not to reveal her hand, but also aware that she was all out of options. If Leon did go back to Leeds, then she really would be up the creek without a paddle. ‘I’m not sure about Angie, though. Me and her . . . well, it’s a bit hit and miss.’

  ‘Oh, she’s all right,’ said Leon. ‘I mean, I know she’s scatty as hell and has some odd ideas about the concept of personal possessions, but fundamentally she’s a nice person. And I don’t think the sofa-surfing thing is her plan by choice. She was with another group, but they had a massive row about something or other and it all fell apart. I think she might be up for a house-share. Shall I ask her?’

  Maggie thought about it for a second or two but really, what choice did she have? If she wanted to live with Leon, then it looked like Angie would have to come too.

  ‘Okay,’ she heard herself say. ‘Thanks.’

  10

  There was something exciting about going back to York to start the second year of university. Of course, it had been exciting the previous year too, but back then the buzz that Maggie felt had been accompanied by a certain apprehension about setting out on this totally new path. This time, most of that path was clearly in view. Maggie knew what university life entailed, she could find her way around the campus and York itself without difficulty, and felt positively grown up when compared to the anxious-looking huddles of first years. It was hard to believe that just a year ago that had been her – but surely, she hadn’t looked quite so nervous.

  The one new thing this year was their student house and Maggie was genuinely thrilled about it. Having a room in halls was one thing, but you still felt a lot like a fresher. A whole house to live in was much more like being a real adult, even if she was having to share it with Leon, Angie and a girl called Fiona whom she hadn’t yet met.