Page 26 of The Way We Are Now

I stopped dead. The yellow Mini was conspicuous by its absence. ‘Has Fliss picked it up then, I wonder?’

‘Or the police have,’ Clare opined, her voice rising with the excitement of the drama that had begun to unfold only an hour earlier. ‘Come on, run, the bus is coming.’

We spent the next couple of hours in the library, both working on end-of-term essays and projects that needed to be in before the finish of the semester and the coming Easter vacation. Once I’d finished as much as I could do, I stood, stretching my legs, and, under the pretext of looking for a book on the shelves, moved around the tables, searching for Fliss. I missed her so much, missed her humour, her easy manner, her banter. Much as I liked Clare and, perhaps, I now admitted, actually put up with, rather than really liked, Katy, I loved having Fliss as a housemate and best friend.

‘Chips,’ Clare commanded at my side as I leafed through a history of the NUM. I replaced the tome and went to retrieve my jacket and bag of books.

‘She’s not here, is she?’ I asked, sweeping the room for a final time.

‘Who?’ Clare had obviously only a plate of chips in mind.

I tutted. ‘Fliss, of course.’

‘Oh, right. No, can’t see her. She’s probably with Theo. I wonder what he’ll think when those two cops go up to Bodington Hall and arrest her for shoplifting? Can’t see he’ll be too happy with that. Especially with his family being royalty. Listen, when we get back, do you think we should, maybe, you know, hide the really good stuff? I love that black Jil Sander jacket of hers. It’s still got the labels on.’

‘Stop it, Clare.’ I shook my head and stalked off in front of her.

‘I take it that’s a no, then?’ She caught me up, taking my arm. ‘Come on.’

It was going up to eight by the time we reached the union bar, pushing our way through the crowd of immovable lager-drinking students. A frisson of something that was almost palpable hung, immobile, in the air, like a bank of strata on a hot sultry day. Jilly, from my course, plucked at my arm, her eyes almost feverish with excitement.

‘Hey, Anna, have you heard?’

‘Heard?’

‘A girl’s been fished out of the Leeds canal. They reckon it’s a student from here at the university.’

8

‘What do you mean, fished out?’ I stared at Jilly, her overfull glass of lager spilling onto her fingers and jumper as she spoke.

‘Well, that’s the story going round.’ She licked ineffectually at her hand, spilling more as she did so.

‘And is she OK? Did she fall in? Did someone rescue her? Who is it? Do you know?’ The questions tumbled out at speed and Jilly actually took a step back.

‘I don’t know. Nobody knows. Just a rumour; you know how these things start.’

‘OK. OK.’ I tried to speak calmly, tried to slow my heart rate that was making me speak almost gibberish.

‘Fell in apparently. Maybe too much to drink? It’ll probably be on the local news tonight.’ She looked me up and down. ‘You haven’t heard back from Brian Sykes then?’

‘Who?’ I couldn’t for the life of me think who Brian Sykes was. ‘Oh, right. No, no. Nothing.’

‘Oh, well, you tried.’ She smiled benignly, her tone holding only a modicum of sympathy. ‘Sorry, must go. Meeting a friend…’ She trailed off. ‘Are you OK?’ She glanced across at Clare who was hovering, trying to make sense of what Jilly was saying. ‘What’s up? Is it the Brian Sykes thing? Have another go, maybe.’

‘Do you know any more about the girl?’

‘Which girl? Oh, who drowned?’ Jilly took a slurp from her glass. ‘Erm, English student I think, as far as anyone knows. Look there’s whatshisname over there. Student Union bloke. Can never remember his name. Far too left wing for me.’ She gave a little moue of disdain. ‘Didn’t you used to have a thing with him, Anna? He might know.’ She waved her glass in Roddy McClellan’s direction, spilling more lager as she did so, and then set off behind me.

I pushed through the laughing, jostling crowd towards Roddy.

‘Oh, hello, Anna. How you doing?’ He didn’t appear to give a flying wotsit for my health.

‘This girl…’ I began.

‘The one that’s been pulled out of the canal?’

I nodded, leaning into him as he bent his head towards me. He smelt of fags, sweat and beer, his long hair greasy, his skin unhealthy. How on earth had I wasted my first few months here at Leeds on him?