I had a dream of how it would be, living in London:this new, shiny, exciting life beckoning me and, with it, so much expectation, so much anticipation, drawing someone like me, with almost no life experience, like a bee to the honeypot. With a deliciously overwhelming intensity, I wanted to grab hold of the opportunity with both hands, and wring everything from it. And, with that feeling came another private, more personal desire; I wanted the city to shape me, and to influence me, so desperate was I to become more sophisticated. I wanted to feel confident and self assured. And a tiny little part of me desperately hoped to somehow morph into someone sexy, worldly and cool.
In my favour, I suppose I had the confidence of youth; I had that self-belief you get when you set a goal, work really hard and manage to achieve it. I suppose you call it equanimity; a dawning realisation that disadvantage can be sidestepped and adversity avoided, despite less than perfect circumstances. Suddenly, nothing seemed insurmountable if you wanted it badly enough. And, as we arrived in London, once again with my whole life packed in a few cardboard boxes, I experienced a massive rush of adrenalin; I was equal parts thrilled and intimidated. I thought I was ready for anything.
And, now, somehow my adventure seemed so much safer and less daunting now that I was going to share it with Danny. He was at least a constant in a world where everything was new and unfamiliar. At the time he had me convinced that he had everything under control, and I was a little in awe of that, but I came to realise, with some disappointment, that, actually, he still relied really heavily on his mum to smooth things out when they became too difficult for him to manage. But, back then while I was still blissfully oblivious to that rather uninspiring character trait, I assumed that the brilliant accomodation sourcing information he shared with me came from his resourcefulness, and I acted gratefully upon it.
While Danny had previously won a place in the halls of residence, I needed to find somewhere a bit cheaper and so I spent my first day in my new home city, on the phone, enquiring about the availability of rooms in private flats. Looking back, I can't believe how fortunate I was to chance upon Holly and her three spare bedrooms in a grotty and grim, nineteen sixties building in Graham Terrace. At the time, I never noticed it's ugly stucco exterior or how mould grew luxuriantly on the bathroom walls. I was unconcerned by the tiny bedroom on offer, or the conspicuous lack of comfort and hygiene; I was just dazzled by the perky, confident young woman who answered the door and ushered me in, enthusiastically. My first impression of Holly was tinged with a mixture of admiration and intimidation; she was really friendly, immaculately groomed, and she appeared just so at ease and in command of everything; clearly both a fun-loving student and a driven high achiever, and I was instantly won over.
During the course of the day, we were joined by Toni and, lastly, Libby and, almost instantly, we were a sisterhood, united by shared goals and the feeling of being far from home, an insatiable desire to experience everything that big city life could offer four highly social and extroverted personalities. The first night, as we feasted on noodles and several bottles of Chardonnay, the music was loud and the laughter invigorating, and I honestly couldn't believe my luck in chancing upon my new home. I looked at my three new friends and knew instantly that my life had somehow changed forever.
If I thought Danny was resourceful, he had nothing on the belligerent, irrepressible Holly. There was a lot about her that was familiar; she was very similar in many ways to Caroline except that Holly had charm, manners and a pretty face, as well as the awareness of how to use all three to open any door necessary to get what she wanted. I realised very early on that just going along for the ride was a lot of fun, so I became her faithful sidekick and my life was suddenly a lot more interesting, and my horizons were significantly broader, because of it.
The first time Danny called in, the girls were all there to meet him and the general consensus was, after the hilarious, Chardonnay-induced interrogation I received later that evening, that he had potential and was worth persevering with, at least in the short term. When I confessed that I had no immediate desire to marry, and that I wanted to see the world before settling down, Holly and Libby were absolutely horrified and informed me that, as well as earning a good degree, I must be in London to find a husband. As I had yet to turn nineteen, I laughed at the suggestion but I soon came to realise that Holly, especially, was deadly serious.
I'd barely had a chance to unpack and Fresher's Week was upon us. I couldn't believe my luck in sharing the same Course as Holly. She was intent on a stellar teaching career at a prominent public school, and she knew exactly what she needed to do to achieve this. I'm not embarrassed to say that I just stayed in her wake and everything seemed to fall in to place for me. Holly liked to tell me what to do and, for the moment anyway, it suited me. I had the feeling that she was treating me a little like her special project but I didn't mind. Everything was both easy and quite a lot of fun when Holly took charge.
On Friday night, there was a social function at the School of Architecture which rather tragically clashed with the Arts Faculty Pub Crawl but, as I hadn't seen Danny all week, I reluctantly agreed to accept his suggestion that I join him. He'd gone very quiet and cold after my hesitation at his invitation, shrugging off my attempt at a conciliatory hug, and promptly making an excuse to leave. Of course, i acquiesced but, for some reason, I had the feeling that he wanted me there so that everyone knew he had a girlfriend, rather than because he wanted to enjoy my company. As was becoming my habit with him, I rationalised the situation, telling myself it was a free meal and subsidised drinks and, as every student knows, these are not occasions to be turned down.
Rather than arrive together, he had just given me the address and, after I'd had a few anxious minutes trying to locate the venue in totally unfamiliar surroundings, I arrived at the warehouse where the party was being held, and looked around for him. I was looking forward to telling him, somewhat proudly, how I had negotiated my first solo night time tube journey, and filling him in on all the details of my week since we'd last met up. I had also spoken briefly to Karen on the phone, just to reassure her that I was settling in happily, and shed filled me in on the village gossip, some of which I was looking forward to sharing with Danny. Eventually I spotted him, leaning against a fashionably distressed and exposed post, holding forth to what appeared from my perspective to be a group of shapely, attentive blondes. Our eyes met and he acknowledged me with a brief smile before turning his intense gaze back to one of his companions in particular. Somewhat miffed, I sought out a glass of wine for myself before making my way towards him and his little coterie of admirers.
When I saw her, standing so closely next to him, her arm on his, I felt a twang of anxiety. It was our first real night out together in London and, already, there were so many girls, so much prettier than me; all so worldly and smart and, well, womanly. You can't imagine how intimidated and inferior I felt as the most captivated blonde tossed her luxuriant hair and it shimmered, and fell perfectly back into place. She was so animated, so tactile and, as she laughed, even from a distance I noticed how her disproportionately heavy chest bounced and shimmied beneath her shiny, tight blouse. I felt all of my self confidence ebb away, and my mind was immediately filled with thoughts of discomfort and self doubt. I didn't even have the poise to walk across to Danny and stake my claim on him as my boyfriend, I just hovered awkwardly, on the outside of their circle, watching them all interact, oblivious to my presence, as I felt more and more panicked, and fought my growing and desperate inclination to run, sobbing, into the night.
Still clearly basking in their admiration, Danny posed relaxedly, running his hand through his curly fringe and glancing from beneath it at his appreciative audience. One of the women gave a deep, throaty laugh, patting Danny encouragingly on his chest before she and her skinny friend, looking like a supermodels on the catwalk, strode away, arm in arm, still chuckling. As I watched them comfortably slot into another circle of cool and glamorous architecture students, flaunting their fashionable glasses, trendy haircuts and designer clothes, I felt horribly and conspicuously alone; I necked my wine and went in search of a refill, impulsively and somewhat desperately grabbing a beer for Danny, grasping at any excuse to take my place at his side. London suddenly seemed like a big, overwhelming, confusing place and I felt hollow and unconnected. The feeling of not belonging was unfamiliar to me and I honestly wasn't sure what to do. In my jeans, t-shirt and boots, I felt dowdy and distinctly unsophisticated and, yet again, it seemed my own lack of maturity was being thrown in my face. It suddenly dawned on me that my refusal to sleep with Danny was actually driving him into the arms these clearly willing other women, and the realisation hit me like a slap to the face with a cold, wet fish.
Unlike Danny's hopelessly gauche Port Wenn girlfriend, I realised with a stab of fear that the chesty blonde who currently twirled her hair beguilingly, and simpered at him, would have no hesitation dragging him to the bedroom and submitting happily to his clumsy demands; she probably would even have a few of her own, she just had that air about her, cosmopolitan and worldly-wise. I took a massively deep breath and made my way back to where they both stood; by now so close to each other that you could barely slide a bus ticket between them. As I approached, I felt a surge of what seemed to be some sort of visceral ancient female wisdom and, as clear as day, I knew what I had to do. It was time to put my foot down.
I was barely two feet away before Danny noticed me and dragged his attention away from the slightly suggestive pose of his entranced companion.
"Lou." He said unenthusiastically, and I noticed how he licked his lips nervously which seemed to me to indicate what had been on his mind before I interrupted him.
The blonde girl looked at me coldly and I responded with a small, brittle smile.
"Hello." I said attempting desperately to sound calm and friendly and unruffled. "I'm Louisa."
There was a pause and she stared at me, her eyes cold and narrow.
"Hello Louiserrrrrrr." She replied with a barely suppressed snigger before adding in a clipped Home Counties accent. "I'm Anya. Danny and I are going to be at Bartlett together. We've have been having a fabulously interesting chat about architectural trends. Or, as you'd refer to them, arrrrrchitecturrrrrrrral trrrrrends."
Her words rung in my ears and I honestly felt as if I had been stabbed in the heart. I stared at her wordlessly; wounded and betrayed. Then, as if to to compound my abject humiliation, and confirm his treacherous disloyalty, she and Danny dissolved into loud and patronising laughter. For a split second, I felt the prick of tears behind my eyes but I fought them off vigorously and reminded myself that I was the daughter of Eleanor Glasson, and I would not, could not, bow down to an upper class slapper trying to steal my boyfriend just to prove that she could. I set my jaw and feigned boredom as I waited for the mirth to abate.
"You're a mature student then Anya?" I asked innocently when I had their attention again. "Like a returning adult sort of thing?"
She looked at me with surprise and pulled a face before snapping back, tersely, "No, what on earth makes you think that?"
"Oh, sorry, no offence." I lied, smiling at her sweetly. "It's just that, well, you seem a bit, umm, old, I suppose, to be having your first crack at college."
Watching her face darken, and her nostrils flare at me, I slipped my arm through Danny's and we all stood awkwardly for a minute or so before the women made their excuses and slipped away. And by his side I remained for the rest of the evening, accepting his guilty and insincere attentions, and silently observing his shameless endeavours to ingratiate himself with his fellows. I knew that he would not stay with me much longer if our current situation continued and I had to decide whether I was prepared to lose him. A few days into what had promised to be such a wonderful adventure together, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't. As I listened for hours to what I would only describe now as pretentious twaddle, I began to psych myself into what I knew needed to be done.
We caught the tube back to Graham Terrace. All the way there, Danny was alternately buzzing with excitement, or pontificating on the merits of Bauhaus, but I was tired, still a bit upset and more than a little apprehensive. The flat was deserted; abandoned for the lure of cheap booze and a raucous night out and, without the cheerful, noisy presence of my flat mates, the place seemed gloomy, stuffy and slightly oppressive. The air was humid and slightly rank and, as I turned the lights on, the fluorescent tubes in the kitchen flickered ominously, as if they were exhausted and giving one final, desperate swan song before expiring forever. Danny followed me into my room, bouncing along animatedly as was his habit and, as illuminated as the tiny space was by the streetlight outside, I didn't even bother turning the light on. I kicked off my boots, sat down on the bed and, before I had the chance to ask him to join me, he gave an enthusiastic whoop of joy and threw himself on top of me.
Honestly, it was all over so quickly that I'm sad to admit that all I felt was perplexed. At that moment, I honestly couldn't understand was what all the fuss was about. It wasn't unpleasant, just sort of awkward, a bit uncomfortable and slightly confusing. None of the things I'd been concerned about had actually happened, it was just sort of mundane really and that was the most disappointing thing. Somehow I'd imagined that everything in the world was going to be different afterwards but going to bed with Danny had turned out to be about as life changing as buying new shoelaces.
To my dismay, he appeared to already be asleep. I lay there on the hard, narrow bed for a moment wondering what the etiquette was but, when I feared my ribs were about to be crushed, I was forced to say something. After grunting unintelligibly, he finally rolled off me and lay on his side with his back to me, snoring gently, while I stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling, sighing with disappointment and wondering sadly whether there was actually such a thing as romance. And, worse still, when the sound of my flatmates returning home woke me some time later, I realised that he had slunk off, without even saying goodbye.