The Other Us. Fiona Harper

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      I drain the last of my half pint and stand up. I have to try. I can’t just let this life drift by without fighting for it. I did that with the original one, and look how happy I was.

      I plant my empty glass down firmly on the bar, then walk through the crowds and out back onto the main road. I turn and head in the direction of the college, the Student’s Union bar, to be more exact. Jude is a bit of a regular.

      I shake my head as I walk, not only to clear the rain from it but to clear my mind. I was so stupid. Complacent. Letting so many chances slip by me. They say youth is wasted on the young, but not this twenty-one year old. Not this time.

      I trudge out of the Student Union. I’d been in there for about an hour, nursing a warm and rather sweet white wine. Thank goodness student prices and minus-twenty-four years of inflation meant I only paid about a pound for it. I’d have been miffed otherwise. I really can’t understand how I stomached the stuff.

      No Jude.

      The rain has stopped, but the pavements are slick and shiny. I frown as I start to walk, not really caring which direction I go. I thought this would be easy: pick a man and that would be it. Heads or tails. Jude or Dan. I hadn’t really considered I might end up with neither.

      When I look up I find myself at the edge of the lake, just short of where the reeds provide a natural barrier to prevent inebriated students from tumbling into the water. The rain has stopped now, the dark clouds pressing on towards central London, leaving the lake still and the grass sparkling clean. I spot a smear of sludgy green poop on the edge of my shoe and I start to try to use the damp lawn to wipe it off, but it’s been freshly mowed and all I succeed at doing is adding grass clippings into the mix. I’m so busy doing this I don’t notice someone walking up beside me. I’m precariously balanced on one leg, and when he speaks it surprises me so much I almost topple right into the lake.

      ‘Meg?’

      It’s only his hand shooting out to grab my arm that stops me. As it is, my shoe – a rather old and ill-fitting suede ballet pump – flies off my foot and into the reeds. Seconds later, I hear a distinct plop. We both stare at where my shoe has just sunk below the surface of the dank water and then I turn to find Jude smiling at me.

      I don’t smile back, not yet. I’m too nervous. There was me, hoping I’d dazzle him so much that he’d suggest running off to the South of France for the summer without the news of my impending marriage to spur him on, but any hopes of being poised and elegant and desirable have just disappeared into the duckweed with my shoe.

      ‘Hi,’ I say softly.

      ‘We must stop meeting like this,’ he says, the smile growing ever more mischievous.

      My lips curve a little too. No, we really shouldn’t.

      ‘How are you?’ I ask, and I’m aware I sound a little breathless. I’m hoping he’ll think it’s because of the shoe incident.

      ‘Good.’ He looks me over. ‘That Dave isn’t doing a very good job of being your knight in shining armour.’

      I turn to face Jude, still hanging on to him, because I’m balancing on one foot. ‘Actually,’ I say, looking him straight in the eye, ‘he’s applied for the position permanently. He asked me to marry him tonight.’

      That wipes the smile off Jude’s face. He stares at me, and then it’s as if someone’s flicked a switch. I see the charm he turns on so easily for others beaming bright in my direction. ‘Well … congratulations.’ His perfect teeth are showing, but there’s no warmth in his eyes.

      I take a breath. This is it. My moment. I can either let it drift past me again or I can grab it. ‘I didn’t say yes.’

      Jude’s eyes widen. ‘You turned him down? Mr Perfect?’

      I frown. Mr Perfect? Is that who he thinks Dan is? I almost laugh. Hasn’t Jude ever tried looking in the mirror? Or taken a really good look at Dan?

      ‘I told him I didn’t know, that I had to think about it.’

      I’m wobbling harder now, as my leg muscles are starting to tire. Jude’s arm comes round me more firmly. ‘Come on, Cinderella,’ he mutters and, before I know it, he’s picked me up and he’s striding across the lawn towards the main house. He deposits me on a flagstone path under a portico. A dull-eyed statue of a half-naked woman eavesdrops on us.

      Jude hasn’t let go of my hand, even though he could. He’s lost his don’t-care-about-anything sheen. Suddenly, he looks as if he cares very much. ‘And why would you say that to him?’

      I swallow as my heart flings itself against my ribcage. It’s one thing to cheerlead yourself into ‘seizing the day’, another thing entirely to actually do it. ‘Because of you,’ I finally whisper.

      ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

      My heart starts to float like a helium balloon. ‘Really?’ I start to feel that giddy, heady sensation I should have felt earlier in the evening, after saying ‘yes’ to Dan.

      ‘I think I made a horrible mistake …’ he begins, and suddenly everything is back on track again, and he’s saying the words he said to me last time, only we’ve changed the scenery to somewhere way more romantic. He ends with, ‘I don’t think he’s what you need, Meg.’

      ‘And you are?’ I say, remembering my line well.

      ‘I’d like to try to be.’

      I keep going with the script, and while I’m thrilled it’s all turned out the way it should, a little nagging feeling tells me it’s only because I engineered it, that there may be a price to pay for that. I swat that nasty little thought away. ‘But you’re supposed to be going off to France next month …’

      He reaches out and grabs both my hands, and I get a sudden flashback to a couple of hours ago when I was standing with Dan by the river. The memory is so strong it almost wipes over the present moment and I have to fight to keep it in focus. ‘Come with me,’ he says.

      I sway and then I stare into Jude’s eyes to anchor myself to him. Inside I feel as if something is pulling apart, like a piece of cloth being roughly torn, all jagged edges and loose threads. I feel my future unravelling.

      ‘OK,’ I say.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      I knock on the door of Dan’s shared student house and my knees are literally shaking. His mate Rick opens the door. Instead of giving me a hug, as he usually would, he just eyes me warily and leads me silently to the sitting room. I find Dan there, in just a T-shirt and boxers, staring at a This Morning segment on how to turn grunge into a wearable look for summer.

      ‘Hi,’ I say.

      He stares at the TV for a full five seconds before turning to look at me. ‘Hi.’

      ‘Are СКАЧАТЬ