The Cupid Effect (3 page)

He in return cast an eye over me, my luggage, the woman technically old enough to be his mother behind me. Then he made no secret of his confusion: his forehead knitted together, his green eyes tried to calculate what was going on. ‘You all right?' he asked, vague flirtations with a non-Yorkshire accent lilted in his voice.

‘I'm Ceri D'Altroy. I'm moving into the room? Upstairs?'

‘Ah, right,' he replied. ‘I'm Ed.'

Ed. That was it
. ‘Hi, Ed. This,' I indicated to Jess with a slight nod of my head over my shoulder, ‘is my best mate Jessica.'

‘Hi?' Ed offered cautiously, his face blanking out completely. He made no move to let us in. He stood guarding the doorway like one of the guards outside Buckingham Palace; we were one moment away from him putting on his bearskin hat, picking up his rifle and totally ignoring us until his shift was over.

‘OK Ed,' Jess said, ‘are you going to let us in, or do we have to break in round the back?'

Ed, blankness aside, was polite and friendly. He made Jess and me a cuppa, even though I rarely drank proper tea. I'd been hoping he had herbal, but when I mentioned it he'd got that glazed-over expression he'd got when I introduced Jess as my best mate so ‘Ordinary's fine,' I'd said, quickly.

Jess gulped hers down the second he set it down on the coffee table. While gulping, she twiddled locks of her auburn hair around her fingers. She was gagging for a cigarette. She'd abstained all the way from the station (Fred, her husband, didn't allow smoking in his car) and she didn't want to light up in what was so blatantly a smoke-free environment. It was painful to watch; I twisted in my seat so I wouldn't have to. Watch, that is.

After making the tea, Ed said he'd take my stuff up to my room.

‘You don't have to, I'll do it later,' I'd said.

‘It's no trouble,' Ed replied. ‘I'm going upstairs anyway. Getting ready to go out later.'

‘If you're sure . . .'

Ed shrugged his whole body. ‘Course.'

‘Thanks,' I said. ‘I'll make you dinner one day as a thank you.'

‘Yeah, she does a fantastic Pot Noodle,' Jessica chimed in.

I elbowed her, hard.

Despite his slender frame, Ed picked up the rucksack, suitcase and holdall effortlessly. We watched his progress up the stairs with admiration. He must've been muscle and bone, rather than skin and bone as he looked.

Jess hopped up on the sill of the left bay window the second he'd gone, swept back the net curtain and opened the window. One cigarette went down in frantic silence – with each puff she visibly relaxed. The second cigarette was smoked slower, she could even talk. And, ‘I'm glad you've got a nice place,' she said. ‘Ed seems all right. I hope you'll be happy here.' Most best-est friends in the whole world would've been reassuring, possibly offered a hug, not Jessica. She called it like she saw it, even if I was falling apart.

Those words sparked my anxieties again. ‘Do you think I'm mad?' I asked urgently.

‘In general, yes. In doing this, no.' Jess's eyes studied me, her cigarette burning away as she hung it out the window. ‘Well it's too bloody late to have doubts now, isn't it? You've chucked it all in down south and made a commitment up here.' (Most best-est friends in the whole world would've been reassuring, possibly offered a hug, not Jessica. She called it like she saw it, even if I was falling apart.)

I nodded in understanding. She was right of course. It really was too late. Sudden, violent nausea surged through my veins. Every heartbeat made me feel sicker. Less sure of what I'd done. Sure, it was all sane and rational and ‘woo-hoo, life affirming' in theory. Even on paper. In reality, I'd jacked in a life. My job was gone. My flat was rented out. My friends had thrown me a leaving do. Most people, when they had a life crisis, bleached their hair or shagged someone unsuitable. I jacked in a life and moved two hundred miles.

I chewed on my inner cheek and stared beyond Jess. It really was too late now.

‘When I finish this,' Jess said, nodding at her cigarette, ‘we'll go get you some food in Morrison's in town and then, if you're very good, I'll buy you a video recorder as a welcome home pressie.'

This
was how Jess was supportive. Platitudes and empty reassurances in times of need weren't her thing; acts of true love – like buying me a video – were.

‘Don't grin too soon D'Altroy, a video's no good without a telly.'

chapter three

Thou Shalt Not . . .

Where the hell am I?

I know I'm in a college. But, beyond that, I'm lost.

I was stood at the bottom of a winding stone staircase with wooden handrails, wondering if I should go up it or stay where I was, stuck in that first day at school nightmare where I don't know where I'm going and don't know anybody. I'd had that nightmare quite a lot over the weekend because it was my first day back at school, kind of. Except I'd be lecturing as well as learning. But still, I'd had the same dream over and over. I was wearing my hideous blue school uniform and I couldn't find out where I needed to be. When I eventually got there, all the students were older than me and laughed at me because I was wearing a school uniform. It didn't take a psychologist to work it out. I was scared. On every level of consciousness I was scared. And now the nightmare was coming true. I couldn't find where I needed to be.

I glanced around me, wondering how to get help. It probably had something to do with initiating eye contact.

All Souls University College, the institution who'd agreed to employ me for a year of teaching and researching, was only small. So small it'd been merely affiliated to Leeds University for years and years and had only become a college of the University in the last two years. There was a distinction between being a college affiliated to the University and being an actual college of the University, and that distinction was probably something to do with money. Most things were something to do with money. All Souls was a picturesque little college in its own way, surrounded by green playing fields. Most of it was sandstone-coloured because it'd been built during the sixties and that was the colour that was
en vogue
then. It was small. There were, what, 3000 students here? Small, intimate, part of the reason I'd applied here. Not as many people, not such a big pond to be a small fish in.

So why was I being belittled and looked down upon by the architecture?

I glanced up. The ceilings were so high, they were almost sky level. I took a peek at the ground. The parquet floors were made from king-size blocks, the windows went on for ever.

Scariest and biggest of all, though, were the students. I
wasn't that big when I was a student
, I thought as I side-stepped a gaggle of undergraduates. Most of them had been born in 1981 for goodness' sake, how could they be so huge? Was there some Thatcherite plot to make the voters of the future so big and brainwashed they'd scare off anyone who didn't think like she did? (I always knew that woman planned to stay in power for ever – Dr Evil was slightly naughty compared to her.) Were those hormones pumped into meat to make cows bigger and yield more meat, finally being shown in the youf of today? Or, horror of horrors, was I actually shrinking? Was I now shorter than the five foot four-and-a-bit, I'd left the house as this morning? Was it finally happening? My nightmare. The only age-related thing I was truly, TRULY frightened of. Getting shor—

‘You look lost,' a male voice said behind me.

I spun to him. He had kind eyes and a soft face. He was wearing a white, long-sleeved T-shirt and blue Levi's. Most importantly, he wasn't as giant as everyone else. He was a lecturer.

‘Yes! Yes, yes, I am.'
Could you please try to sound more desperate there, Ceri, he is after all the Pope and he did just ask you if you wanted sex before marriage sanctioned by the Catholic Church
. I cleared my throat. ‘I mean, a little.'

‘I'm Mel,' he said, ‘I'm a sociology lecturer. You're about to start work in the psychology department, aren't you? I remember you being shown around last month.'

I nodded. ‘That's me.'

‘What's your name?' he asked and smiled. He had good teeth: white, straight, brushed and flossed twice a day. He was probably on first name terms with his dentist.

‘Ceri. Ceri D'Altroy.'

‘OK Ceri, where do you want to be?'

At home, in London, watching
Trisha
, eating bananas on toast in bed. ‘The place where the secretaries are.'

‘The department office?' he said.

That'll be it
. ‘Er, yeah. Just forgot the name of it for a second.'

Mel laughed, he thought I was joking. I was so scared, so panicked, I barely remembered my own name.

‘It's this way.' He started up the stairs.

The canteen was, like everything else in this college, huge. Long, with regulation parquet floors and round tables with room for eight (maybe ten people, if everyone ate with their elbows tucked in). The right wall was floor to ceiling glass, giving you an unhindered view of the various halls of residence that were dotted around the campus. All the halls of residence looked like slightly narrower and shorter versions of sixties tower blocks, they were the same colour, probably designed by the same architect. As you entered the canteen through big wooden swing doors, you headed left for the service line: a long counter with glass protecting us from the food; behind it stood women and men in white kitchen overalls and white net caps ready to dish up.

I ordered fisherman's pie with a double side order of peas and a bottle of water. I paid, stepped away from the cashier, then went into new girl free fall. I was all alone here.

The canteen instantly doubled in size. Then tripled. Then tripled again. It went on tripling in length and width until the far wall was nothing but a blip on the very distant horizon. I was suddenly the smallest girl in the world standing in the biggest room in the world.

I'd just come from the longest, most tedious briefing in the history of job briefings, there was nothing in my job description I didn't now know. The horror of it was going to live for ever in my mind. I did not need to eat by myself on top of that.

The room buzzed with chatter and eating and drinking and cutlery hitting crockery. And bonding. I couldn't see anyone sat alone. My footsteps would probably echo and echo and echo as I headed for a solitary table. Everyone would make ‘look at saddo' eyes at each other about me as I took up a seat alone and ate alone. Gwen, the head of department, had sent me off to lunch on my tod, saying, ‘I have lots of important things to do. I've scheduled your meetings with the three other lecturers you'll be working with for later this afternoon. Bye.' It didn't occur to her that me being new, this being my first day, I'd need someone to lunch with. Or, failing that, directions to the canteen.

Across the canteen, someone waved, and the room returned to normal size. I wasn't wearing my glasses so I couldn't tell who it was from their face. They were a blue and white fuzz amongst the general colours and shapes in the canteen. Maybe they weren't waving at me at all. The room swelled again. I glanced over my shoulder, no one but the cashier behind me and she had her back to the waver. I peered forward, craning my neck and narrowing my eyes; the shape seemed familiar, as were the clothes. A white, long-sleeved top and blue jeans. Mel? He got up, beckoned, pointed to the plastic orange seat opposite him. My body sagged with relief.
Thank you, God! I will try very hard to get to church some time very soon.

‘Hi,' he said as I approached.

‘Hi,' I grinned. Mel probably thought I spent my entire life in a constant state of relief and desperation.

‘This is Claudine,' Mel said, indicating to the serene woman on his right. She was make-you-jealous gorgeous. Cropped, raven-black hair, Mediterranean skin, plump lips. This woman, this Claudine, had eyes that actually smouldered as she looked at you. ‘Claudine, this is Ceri, she's the new person I was telling you about.'

Claudine's face broke into a friendly grin. ‘Hi ya,' she said, ‘how's it going?'

‘Not bad, so far,' I said and reached for my fork – only to find it wasn't there. No cutlery. Great. I'd have to do the walk of shame back to the cashier. I'd feel a 24ct fool, sidling up to her, smiling, nicking a fork then running away again. Those were moments I had nightmares about. I'd already relived a million and one times flailing about with another woman on Leeds station concourse. Each reliving brought a new and deeper horror. Sophistication was all about
not
doing those sorts of things. Bet women like Claudine didn't do those things.

‘Here,' Mel said, giving me the second fork on his tray. ‘I got this for Clau, cos she always forgets her cutlery, but for the first time ever, she remembered.'

Claudine rolled her smouldery eyes. ‘Just give her the damn fork Melvin. All Ceri needs to know is that it's clean, and your lips haven't been anywhere near it.'

‘Thanks,' I said, taking the fork, digging into the creamy sauce, hitting the white flesh of the fish with gusto. I was hungry. The kind of hunger that came from being so nervous I couldn't eat on Sunday and I couldn't even force water down my neck this morning.

‘What's your PhD on?' Claudine asked after they'd watched me wolf down a couple of mouthfuls. I was that hungry the food didn't even touch the sides.

I swallowed a full mouthful, not wanting to talk with my mouth full – I was well brought up like that. In fact, I was constantly horrified that people sat happily chewing away while telling you some convoluted tale. ‘I'm not actually doing a PhD,' I said to Claudine. ‘I'm not technically studying either. I'm doing a year's research in the psychology department. I've had this idea in my head for years and I'm actually following it up. I'll also be lecturing first year, a bit of second year psychology, and taking tutorials. If it works out, I might be allowed to apply for a PhD course, though.'