Ten Years On Read Online Free PDF Page A

ground to swallow me up.
    But then I noticed him glancing at my legs. Clearly I’d made the right choice with my miniskirt, even if I was freezing my arse off. He raised an eyebrow, before scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He slid the message towards me. ‘Aren’t you cold? PS Fancy a drink tonight?’
    My heart did a somersault. I was going to put that piece of a paper in a frame and keep it, forever.
    During our first date Olly told me he wanted to be a journalist, pop star, jazz or classical pianist or maybe a novelist, or maybe a mixture of the whole lot, he’d laughed. I told him I had no idea what I wanted to do with my degree. I was hoping I’d work it out as I went along.
    I rub my blistered feet together, sore from dancing last night, thinking about how Olly had walked me back to my halls after our evening. I felt comfortable with him, as if we’d known one another for years. We talkedabout being away from home for the first time. I told him I was happy, that I enjoyed being free and independent. I’d never felt I belonged in my family, explaining that my mother and sister, Pippa, were both sporty, whereas I was the artistic one. I described how Mum had given me a Slazenger racket for my birthday when I was about eight, hoping I was destined for the giddy heights of Wimbledon.
    ‘She booked me a lesson with the club coach, Kenny. You should have seen me, Olly. I ran away from the ball, not towards it.’
    He smiled, before saying, ‘My father’s a bug man.’
    ‘A what?’
    ‘A bug man. Entomologist. It’s fine, you can laugh.’
    ‘Sorry, I didn’t know what you meant.’
    ‘Shame on you! My dad studies bugs for a living. Didn’t you know that there are 1.3 million described species, and that insects account for more than two-thirds of all known organisms …’
    ‘I didn’t, sorry.’ I slapped my thigh. ‘What have I been doing all my life?’
    ‘And they date back some four hundred million years.’
    ‘Wow.’
    Olly looked at me. ‘He’s an academic, my dad, no good at small talk, lives in his own little bubble. He’snot interested in my music, what I’m doing at Bristol, nothing excites him except the habitat of weevils. In fact,’ he said, as if he was just realizing this reality, ‘he doesn’t have a fucking clue who I am!’
    Olly laughed, but I could see he felt it deeply, and that was the moment when I knew something would happen between us. ‘I’ve had a great time,’ he said towards the end of our date, his face close to mine. ‘Why haven’t we done this before?’
    ‘What have you been doing all your life?’ I said, making him laugh.
    We kissed that night, outside halls. It was a kiss that promised more, and before I went to bed I called Kitty, saying I’d met the man of my dreams.
    Olly and I decided we wanted to live together in our second year, so together with three other housemates, Sylvie, Jamie and Dan, we found a terraced house in Victoria Square, Clifton, with tall ceilings, cheap chandeliers, threadbare carpets and one very damp bathroom. When it came to bedrooms, the five of us drew names out of a hat. Sylvie bagged the biggest. She’s reading business studies. She’s the punk-rock type: tiedye T-shirts, tight jeans, uses henna on her long hair, wears thick black eyeliner and heavy black boots. Inspired, I dyed my hair black, but washed it out againwhen Olly asked me what I’d done to myself. My hair is a rich chestnut, long and thick, with a natural wave. ‘It was the first thing I noticed about you, Becca. Well, that and your legs.’ I chose the bedroom with the view overlooking a leafy park. Jamie is across the corridor; he’s reading history. Dan no longer lives here. He scarpered last week, without giving us any rent, so we’re now looking to find a replacement.
    Someone’s having a long shower, I think, getting up to investigate. Just as I’m about to knock to tell whoever it is to get a move on, the door opens and a tall man with