CHAPTER 2

AN- "Rob" is based on Raoul, but I changed the name as it's not one I've ever heard outside of POTO and I wanted one that was a bit more subtle. Please leave me a review if you have the time, would love to know what you think (good or bad reviews welcome!)

"Hi" a male voice from the doorway made Christine jump, almost dropping her spoon into her cereal bowl. A man she had never met before leaned confidently in the door way with a grin on his face, presumably at the fact that her pyjamas were scruffy and had sausage dogs printed on them in multi-coloured whimsicality.

Meg wandered in, saving Christine from having to make an attempt to reply with some pleasantries.

"Ah Christine, I see you've met Rob. I have to dash, he is making his own way home!" Meg punched him on the arm and disappeared from the kitchen, leaving the semi-strangers alone once more.

Meg's habit of abandoning her one night stands to fend for themselves was something of a bad habit but they never lingered and were usually quite content to wander home in whatever clothes they had got there in the night before.

"Sooo….how do I get back home from here? I guess I should have paid attention on the way here but…" the man – Rob – shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh. Well I don't know where you live but if you get the ten into town I'm sure you can work it out from there. The next one is in about fifteen minutes but the bus stop is right outside so you can sit for a bit if you like".

"Oh that's worked out well then. What was your name sorry?" He smiled. Christine had to hand it to Meg, last night's catch was pretty easy on the eyes. Blond wavy hair accompanied dark brown eyes, straight teeth, good skin and an acceptable amount of stubble.

"Christine".

"Nice to meet you Christine!"

"Uh you too…" his enthusiasm was a little obnoxious.

"You know what, the bus sometimes comes a bit early, you should probably get going pretty soon. Do you need a glass of water or anything? I have to get going to uni" Ever the hostess, Christine couldn't help but feel awkward knowing that he had slept with her housemate, possibly only half an hour or so ago.

"No I'm good thanks. Thanks for letting me stay in the warm for a bit".

Christine smiled. He was polite too!

"No problem. I'm off to get the fifteen so I'll lock the door and stuff. Nice to meet you!" He was out the door by this time, walking down the street, but he waved a hand to acknowledge he had heard her.

Christine wasn't too sure what to make of this chap. But it didn't matter as she supposed she would never be seeing him again – Meg rarely invited her male friends round for a second time. Pushing the semi-stranger out of her mind, Christine focused on her classes for the day ahead.

Her core religion lecture was at two o'clock but she wanted to get some work done for English first – as a combined honours student she loved that she got to do what she loved, but sometimes it was hard to balance things. The English side had fewer hours in actual classes but more reading, whereas religion was vice versa. Her grades were about equal in both so the current strategy of going in early to read and study before each lecture was paying off.

Along the walk to the bus stop, Christine wondered where her degree was actually taking her. She was getting herself into thousands of pounds of debt for what? A three year delay in having to decide what she wanted to do with her life? Her dreams of being a singer had died when she lost her confidence during her awkward teenage years due to acne-induced bullying and a belief that she was not good enough. And really, she wasn't – her breathing had gone to pot since she stopped lessons and with it, her drive to succeed as a singer. No one listened to classical anymore anyway – except for weddings and funerals or charity events. So that was out. Teaching was the next best thing in her mind – preferably lecturing, but that needed a lot of confidence too.

Thinking about confidence reminded Christine she had a presentation next week on Clarissa – a huge book she had been reading for her core English module. It was only a pass/fail presentation but it was stressful as her group argued a lot. She tried to pacify them with cake when they met up but they would just argue on their group chat online instead, which was incredibly frustrating. Everyone had different opinions on where to meet, what activities to get the class to do as part of the led seminar and other details that didn't really matter but seemed to matter a great deal.

Then that lead Christine to think about her parents and how they used to fight before they divorced – her mother had been unfaithful to her dad so Christine didn't really see her anymore. A few years after their divorce, Christine's dad had been killed in an accident with a Lorry on the motorway five years ago. He had been killed instantly. She missed him.

She was still so deep in thought that she almost missed her stop on the bus home: someone else pressing the button, making it ding! snapped her out of her daydream, and she gathered her stuff in a slight fluster before hurrying down the stairs of the double decker.

It had been a long day and she was looking forward to eating her lasagne and reading in bed. She decided to have a quick look at that song her mysterious stranger – as she now called them in her head – had left for her. She knew it from her lessons all that time ago, and it would be nice to feel the stretch and flex of her vocal chords again as she sang. It was like exercising a muscle you haven't used in a while – it felt refreshing and healthy, and the resulting sounds were pleasing. Although her breath control was shabby, Christine missed music. She vowed that she would practise more often and maybe find some exercises on YouTube that would help her learn even more about how to strengthen her sound and extend her range. She couldn't afford a new teacher, and it would be fun to teach herself again, to take her mind off the melancholy that settled over her sometimes. Christine often felt isolated as she wasn't like other students – not a big drinker, she just wanted to get her degree and make friends, but she was so cripplingly shy that even going to her classes was a struggle sometimes. Her Monday class had a particularly intimidating lecturer, who assumed that silence meant a lack of knowledge in his class. On more than one occasion he had assumed that no one had done the work and stormed out for fifteen minutes "until one of you has something to say" when in reality, everyone had done the seminar prep, they just didn't want their ideas torn into shreds in front of their peers.

But anyway, that didn't matter right now. Right now, Christine needed sleep, not all these busy thoughts circling round in her head. Often, she lay awake thinking about the most banal things – what food she had in the fridge and when she might need to do laundry and things about her course and worrying about anyone in her small circle of friends that might having problems in life, which she always listened to with great care. It was tiring being so switched on, and eventually she drifted off comfortably…

ERIC

Christine had been very distracted today. What would have happened if he hadn't noticed and pushed the button on the bus so she got off? Well she could have just ridden the route into town and got the ten. But it would have knocked her confidence, as Eric knew she hated public transport.

Eric's day had been slow - two lectures, with an hour break in between. He had a portfolio of short stories due soon. Most of them were about a short, stocky girl with long brown curly hair and the voice of an angel...

He heard her sing his song last night. Not your song, dumbass he chided himself. Just a song you left her in a bin. Very romantic.

Her voice had made him feel something he had never felt since before the fight that changed his life forever. He felt hope, his mood lifting with every soaring movement of her voice. And she had to feel it too, surely everyone felt this way about music?

He had to find more songs for her, some that would suit her perfectly and others that would stretch her in terms of genre and style and language, and he would teach her. You really think she would let a total stranger, who will never let her see their face, teach her how to sing? Yeah right. Eric's inner critic was back. He brushed the hateful voice aside. He would find a way to teach her. He vowed that by next week, they would have met in some form or another, and she would sing for him. She had to.