Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter! I'm so glad you liked it; so glad, really, me writing the second chapter at all was completely dependant on reviews because this story is going to take a lot of work; enough for it to not be worth it just for my own benefit. But you did like it, and here is the second chapter. As I said before, this is going to be a double chronology story, and this is the first chapter of the earlier strand of the plot.
1995
As the car pulled up towards her through the dark, the window of the driver's seat visibly drawn down, Phyllis instinctively prepared to counter whatever unpleasantry was about to be flung at her and her friends with equal bile. Much to her surprise, the car slowed to a halt rather than passing her and instead of an unpleasant bawl coming from the window, a soft, familiar voice said; "Do you want a lift?"
"Joe?" she asked, frowning and surprised, moving to the edge of the pavement and leaning forwards to talk to him, "Since when do you have a car?"
He grinned back at her.
"Birthday present from my dad," he replied, "Anyway, I'm off home now, and wondered if you were heading that way too."
It was inviting; it was cold and she was getting tired and she didn't fancy the walk home, which she suspected she was just about too precariously tipsy for, even before the next half a bottle at Anna's.
"Well, I was going to go up to Anna's for a drink," she looked guiltily round at Anna and Daisy who were waiting for her a short distance away, "But I do have a 9am tomorrow, and I don't fancy-…"
"Go," Anna told her, "It's alright, you've got finals."
Phyllis smiled at her in reply.
"I'll look in next time I'm in college," she promised her, walking round to the other side of the car to get into the passenger seat.
"Sure," Anna replied, giving her a smile and Daisy waved goodbye.
She waved to them both as she opened the door and got in.
"Good night?" he asked her, waiting for her to put on her seat belt.
"Not bad," she replied as he pulled away from the curb, "We went to the pub with the downstairs lot who live in college and then to Thomas's gig for a bit."
"How was that?" he asked.
"Alright," she replied, "Bit of an acquired taste, but not too bad. But then it got a bit pushy so we thought it wasn't worth staying."
"Not with a 9am tomorrow," he remarked, then, frowning, "Since when do English students do 9ams?"
She rolled her eyes and gave a very disgruntled sigh.
"Since the delight that is Oxford finals," she replied gloomily.
"Tell me about it," he replied dryly, then, after a moment, "Look on the bright side, at least the language you study isn't dead."
She cast him an amused look.
"Surely that occurred to you before you applied for Classics?" she asked him. Definitely, she was more prone to teasing him after she'd had a drink or two. Or however many she'd had.
He shrugged, half smiling, his eyes on the road.
"It seemed a more attractive prospect when I was 18," he replied.
She smiled. That was something she could well believe. It was nice to be in a warm car after the cold of the street and the noise of the club and she settled back against the seat a little.
"Why didn't you come out tonight?" she asked him, "We'd have had fun. I feel like I haven't seen you properly in ages."
"I know," he replied, 'It's what the final year does to you, I suppose; you can live in the same building as your friends but hardly see them at all."
"It's shit," she grumbled, pulling the sleeves of her jacket a little bit further down, shuffling in her seat, "You should have come with us tonight."
"I had a translation to get done," he explained, "I've been in the library since about lunchtime. And, since the Union Christmas Ball I've been trying to limit myself, drink-wise," he admitted, "For obvious reasons."
"Oh," she replied, smiling at the memory of his very individual way of dancing after about three bottles of wine, laughing a little as she said; "God, that was a hell of a night."
"I know. I ended up crashed out on John's floor," he replied ruefully, "He was very good about it, considering. I can't have repeat of that, not until we're finished, at least."
"Fair enough," she replied with a grin, "But when we're done, we should definitely do something, together. We need to get fantastically drunk, at least one more time. I vaguely remember having a lot of fun with you on nights out, at some point in second year."
She could see him smiling. He obviously remembered too, perhaps more clearly than she did.
"Alright," he replied, "That sounds like fun. You've got yourself a deal."
She gave a little laugh, "Fantastic!" she replied, and then, a second later as wave of tiredness swept over her, "God, I feel drunk!"
"Do you?" he asked, surprised, "You don't seem it."
"It's just catching up with me now," she replied, "It was too loud in that place for me to really realise. And I've got considerably better at hiding being completely pissed over the course of the last few years."
"Haven't we all?" he replied wryly, and she snorted appreciatively.
"Barring the Christmas Ball," she reminded him.
"Barring the Christmas Ball," he conceded regretfully, and she chuckled again.
"It's nice to know we got something that we can actually use in the real world out of our degrees," she remarked, and he returned his agreement with a rueful laugh.
They were quiet for a few moments.
"I'm glad I picked you up," he told her seriously.
"So am I," she replied, when he did not say any more. She let a note of double entendre play in her voice and it caught his attention.
For a moment, he took his eyes off the road, giving her a quizzical look.
She smiled back at him, giving her best fallen woman look, and throwing in a roguish grin and a wink to boot.
He looked frankly alarmed for a second, and hastened to explain himself, "I mean it's better than you trying to get a cab or walk home by yourself."
"I know," she assured him, seriously now, thinking that perhaps at the moment she did not have as good a grasp of how acceptable it was to flirt with your friends, "I know, Joe, of course I know! I'm only winding you up! Sorry, I'm drunk. Don't listen to me."
"It's alright," he replied, though, she thought, he still look a bit taken aback.
She could see that she's really surprised him, and Joe could be a bit funny about this side of things. Over the course of three years of in depth, half drunk discussions on the subject with Anna, neither of them had ever been able to pin down why.
"No," she insisted, tipsy and a little more forceful than usual, "That was a crappy of me given that you're giving me a lift. Sorry. You're welcome to a lift on the back of my bike any time you like."
He said nothing, but she could see that the look of amusement had returned to his face. She wondered for a second if he was going to drive the rest of the way home in silence, but then, a moment later, he asked her; "Do you want to stop for some food? You should probably eat."
They were half way down the Woodstock Road, and could see a kebab van up ahead.
"I'm out of money," she replied sadly, though her stomach protested that stopping would be a fantastic idea.
"Doesn't matter," he replied, pulling into the curb and stopping the car, "I keep a fiver in cash on me at all times for this very reason. You stay here, I won't be a minute."
He got out of the car, and she sat there in the dark watching him as he queued at the van. Her ears were still ringing a bit from the gig. He had got a bit taller, she thought, since the last time she'd looked at him like this. At the beginning of first year they'd been pretty much the same height but now he was a good half head taller than her. She gave a sigh, resting back in her seat, thinking about her early start the next day. Joe smiled at her through the windscreen as he came back towards the car, holding two yellow plastic cartons.
"Cheesy chips," he told her, handing her one of them as he sat back in the driver's seat, "Salt, no sauce."
"You remembered what I get?" she asked him, looking across at him in surprise and gratitude.
"I'm hardly likely to forget," he told her, grinning, "You must have had after every night out for the last three years."
"That's probably true," she conceded reluctantly, sneaking a chip out of the edge of her carton, and then abruptly taking his out of his hands, "Here, let me hold yours, and we'll eat them at home. It's not far."
"And it'll give you time for your cheese to melt properly," he replied. He grinned at her look of surprise, "You're more transparent than you think you are, Phil," he told her, smiling.
"Just drive the car," she told him. And then, as they began moving along the road again, "Come up to my room when we get there and we can have them with some tea."
There was a pause that was almost nervous, and she wondered for a second if he was still thinking about her earlier misjudged attempt at flirting.
"Oh come on," she told him, "You've bought me chips, the least I can do is make you a tea."
"Alright," he replied softly, a moment later, "That'll be nice."
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