‘We can but hope.’
‘Good old Karl,’ I said. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
‘I know.’ She laughed. ‘I’m thinking I might just see if Asmaa and that lot fancy looking for a bigger house share with me, Karl and Leon, all of us together in a six.’
‘With you as the central person who knows everyone,’ I said. ‘Get you!’
The corner of her mouth turned up. ‘Well, look, like I said, there’s nothing sorted for definite yet, but it’s nice to have options at least.’
‘It really is, darling,’ I said. ‘And nice that hopefully the atmosphere in the flat will improve a bit for the summer term too, if Marianne truly curbs her kleptomaniac tendencies.’
She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice further, not that anyone was likely to be able to hear her through the wall. ‘I think there might be a bit of tension here still,’ she said. ‘But not related to me.’
‘Ooh,’ I said, hunkering down towards the screen in a similar fashion. ‘Gossip?’
‘Well,’ she whispered. ‘You know the girls who put the deposit down for a house together last October – you remember?’
‘Yes, crazily early,’ I said. ‘I bet they’ve decided they all hate each other.’
She raised her eyebrows and nodded at the screen. ‘Seems like it. Or at least, Flora has fallen out with Lavinia, and nobody’s talking to Betsy because she hooked up with this guy Marianne liked, and now they’re not really hanging out with each other at all. Poppy has said she doesn’t want to live with them, full stop. I see her sometimes in the library and she says she’s probably going to move in with a different group, which is going to leave Marianne one space short. And they’ve already signed the contract. Paid the deposit. Everything.’
‘Oh, you know what’ll happen,’ I said. ‘They’ll askyouto take that last space.’
‘They might do,’ she conceded. ‘I do wonder if my M&S groceries were an opening gambit. But then, I don’t think the rest of them know yet – about Poppy. And I guess they might all change their minds again and…’
‘And either way,’ I said firmly, ‘you can do so much better than them as a group of housemates. Don’t even think of accepting if they do offer.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘And I won’t. I’d rather move back into halls than deal with that psychodrama for any longer than necessary.’
‘Quite right,’ I said. ‘And Layla, don’t let our money situation affect your decision. If you see something, a house you all like, then you should go for it, put a deposit down.’
‘Most of the contracts are for the whole year though, Mum. Like, we’d have to pay from July.’
‘Even though you wouldn’t be moving in until October?’
She nodded. ‘I know. It’s a massive scam but they’re all the same. Twelve-month contracts. Unless I stayed in halls.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s much nicer to live out. Just see what you can find within a reasonable budget.’
‘Okay. If you’re sure.’
‘Do you think Asmaa and the rest of them will be looking at similar costs?’ I said, trying to sound casual whilst really praying that Asmaa wouldn’t turn out to be fabulously wealthy and insist on living in a mansion, leading to us having to tell Layla we couldn’t afford it, and Asmaa saying,tough, the rest of us can – I guess you’re going to be homeless with all the other povvos…
‘Yes, I think so,’ Layla said, snapping me out of this line of thought. ‘We’ve talked and we all want the same area of town. It’s not the pricey bit.’
‘But it’s still a safe area?’ I could feel a whole new world of stress opening up.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll obviously send you all the details of anything we’re looking at. When we start looking. I just wanted to let you know. I’ve got enough in my account to cover the deposit at the moment anyway, and I’ll earn more over the Easter holidays so maybe you won’t need to…’
‘Layla,’ I cut across her. ‘Don’t worry. Your father and I will sort it. I’m just really pleased you’ve got a potential group together.’
‘Yep, me too.’ She looked more relaxed than I’ve seen her in ages and my heart gave a little leap of delight in my chest.
We carried on chatting about the library and her coursework until someone knocked on her door to say they were heading down to the bar in half an hour and then we said goodbye, although both of us knew that I’d be texting her later. I still found it hard to get through more than a couple of days without speaking to my daughter, and hard to get through a couple of hours without messaging her, even though we were almost two terms in.
Sometimes, in my idle moments, I wondered how long it would take me to adjust to this situation as the new normal. It was true that the agony of being separated had reduced slightly as the weeks had gone by – after all, the human body can becomeaccustomed to most things over time – chronic pain, mental distress, husbands who clear their throat repeatedly – but I think part of me was still working on the principle that this was a temporary state of affairs. If I examined my subconscious too deeply I would almost certainly discover an active delusion that my Layla hadn’t really left home for good – that this was just a phase of childhood, as transient (and annoying) as her deciding she wouldn’t eat anything green, or developing that American accent, or the time when she’d only responded to mine and Joe’s gentle enquiries with an eyeroll and a ‘duh’.
We’re good at tricking ourselves – humans, I mean. Presumably it’s a protective mechanism to allow us to repeat a painful exercise, like childbirth, to perpetuate the species. The agony fades and we forget that our perineums were torn to shreds and that we’d have gladly walked over hot coals if someone would just get the bloody baby out and leave us in peace. Or we can remember it in theory, like something you’d read in a book, but not in the glorious technicolour we experienced at the time. I’ve nothing against people deluding themselves – you tell yourself whatever you need to get through the day –I am a good person; I can do this job that I’m not really qualified for; my bottom looks normal in these jeans– and sometimes thatfake it till you make itattitude works really well.
