The House Mate Page 5

  ‘Yes, it is – good luck. Hope you find your way around the campus okay,’ Sophia said with an empathetic smile.

  There were no first-day-of-university jitters. It was simply something I had to do.

  As I stood my phone began to ring. Its sound penetrated the whole room.

  ‘Jeez, Regi!’ Karen squeaked and covered her ears. ‘Are you going deaf?’

  ‘Sorry, sorry.’ I went to grab the phone and in my haste I knocked it on the floor. The ringtone rang out loud and trill. ‘Sorry.’ I fell to my knees, picking it up from under the coffee table. By the time the phone was in my hand, the ringing had stopped. I looked at the missed call that had no name to it, but the number that I would never forget. I felt my gut lurch, the same way it had when it rang just yesterday.

  ‘Sorry, I… I guess don’t use the phone that often.’ And I didn’t. I had bought a new phone when I moved to London. I had not given this number to anyone from my past. But, of course, there were some people who, no matter how hard I tried to hide, would always be able to find me. I knew it would only have been a matter of time. I only wished I could have had a little longer to enjoy starting over and building a new life for myself.

  ‘Are you going to ring them back?’ Mini said. ‘It sounded urgent at that volume.’ She laughed and looked around the room for encouragement.

  ‘I’ll check the settings.’ I held the phone up like the alien object it was. ‘It’s newish – I need to just find the volume.’

  ‘Here.’ Karen stood up and brashly removed the phone from my hand, then she expertly navigated her way into the settings and found the volume control. She dragged it down with her finger.

  ‘See, just like this. That’s at a more acceptable level. Especially when you’re on the train tomorrow.’ Karen sounded slightly irked, a tone that had crept into some of her interactions with me, and I had yet to work out why.

  ‘Okay,’ I said, feeling the heat of the embarrassment creep up my neck. For the first time since I had been living here, I felt as though I were the older one trying to fit in with the young, cool kids. ‘I’ll be off to bed then.’

  ‘Night,’ they all called in unison, and I headed for the door. On the other side, I heard their voices drop to a whisper followed by the shrill sound of Mini laughing.

  I felt the edginess creeping around my body, but comforted myself with the notion that soon I would be in bed with clean sheets, looking at what Mrs Clean had posted in the last couple of hours.

  I walked into the small utility room off the hallway. I bent down and retrieved the clean sheets from the dryer. I took a moment to close my eyes and inhale the sweet, floral scent.

  As I pulled the sheets away from my nose, I opened my eyes and stumbled backwards in horror as I saw the undisputed silhouette of a face close to the small window opposite me. I pulled the sheets back to my nose, shut my eyes and started breathing in the sweetness to calm myself. It’s only my imagination, I repeated to myself. But I could still see the face in my mind’s eye; the perpetual sardonic look, his lip curled at the corner, the laughter in his eyes that in the beginning I loved but by the end was as though he was laughing at me. I felt a tightening around my wrists, and I was wrestling with the blankets that had seemed to have become tangled around my arms and neck. It was no use, I couldn’t stop the panic rising. I tried to focus on the scent on the sheets. Just breathe it in, Regi. You’re okay.

  Suddenly hands were on me, tight around my wrists and then tugging at the sheets as I pulled harder.

  ‘Regi,’ came Sophia’s voice. The sheets were pulled down from my face and Sophia began unravelling them from around my arms.

  I looked to the window. The face had gone, but I could still feel a fuzzy sensation on my wrists. Sophia was looking at me. She put her hand on my shaking arm. I instinctively jerked it away.

  ‘What happened, Regi?’ she said softly.

  I dropped the sheets in the empty laundry basket and put my hand over my mouth, my other hand on my hip. I breathed through my hand and blew out a long breath. Then I removed my hand and placed it on my cheek. ‘Do you know, it was the weirdest thing. The condensation on the window, it caught me off-guard. I thought it was a face.’

  ‘Whose face, like Jesus’s? You should have taken a photo and sent it into a magazine – they pay money for that.’ Mini was trying to squeeze through the door and into the small space that was already overcrowded with two bodies.

  ‘I don’t think she meant that,’ Sophia said sombrely. ‘Did you?’ There was a sense of pleading in her voice. I didn’t want to drag these girls into everything so soon after moving in. They knew I was damaged goods. Did they need to know the rest?

  I choked out a laugh. ‘To be honest, it was more like Pope Gregory VII.’

  ‘Our brains are hardwired to see faces in everything. It was just a hallucination.’ Mini moved a little closer, and I pressed myself against the wall. ‘In fact, everything we see is a hallucination – you’ll never actually see reality because your brain—’

  ‘Thanks, Mini, for the psychology lesson, which we really appreciate.’ Sophia side-eyed me. ‘I think Regi is perhaps a little overtired and jittery about starting a new course tomorrow.’

  Mini threw her hands up in the air. ‘Anytime, there’s more where that came from.’ And she retreated from the room.

  Sophia offered me a strained smile. ‘But you’re okay though?’

  ‘I think you’re right, and I am just nervous about tomorrow,’ I lied.

  Sophia’s face loosened. ‘Well, that’s normal. You have been through so much and tomorrow is a big deal. Starting a course later in life can be daunting.’

  I thought about the importance of the next day as my first day at uni. But it was a more important day in another way; one I didn’t wish to remember or draw attention to.

  ‘Thanks, Sophia. I’m not that old.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, I just meant that, you know, the majority of the class will be teenagers and in their early twenties, so that’s all I meant. I’d be nervous.’

  I picked up the duvet cover and began to fold it. ‘It’s okay, and I know it will be fine.’ I could feel my heart rate returning to normal.

  ‘Okay, well, text me if you freak out in the day. I can always dash over from my campus to meet you for a coffee if you feel you need me to.’

  I looked at Sophia. ‘Thank you,’ I said. I thought about how in another world, in another time, Sophia and I could have been proper friends, the kind who told each other everything and didn’t hover on the border of the truth. Except I imagined it would be the other way around and I would be the mentor, the stronger of the two, and she would be taking advice from me.

  The next morning, I arrived at uni, made my way to the main entrance and navigated to my first class without a hitch. At the door, I squeezed my way past a small crowd of three or four people, who were talking as if they had only just met one another but were going to hang on to one another no matter what. Another intruder at this stage would upset their dynamics, so I skirted past them into the chilly room and found myself a safe space at the back where I noted there was also a fire exit. The notion that I could throw myself through it at any given point was a small comfort, but what I wanted to do right then was open and close it several times before I was able to settle. I had brought along a fiddle toy cube that had six sides with things to touch and move, something to distract myself from the doors and windows. I pulled it out of my bag and began subtly clicking the three sliders back and forth. It didn’t give me the same satisfaction, but it would get me through the first lesson.

  A small, round woman of about sixty came into the room and stood at the front.

  ‘Okay,’ she called loudly. ‘This is your first theory lesson of the week for your introductory textiles course. I’m Denise, this is Room D-12, let’s get started.’

  After an hour and a half with only ten minutes’ break, I burst out of the room. I had made it through, but it had been the
struggle I knew it would be. I thought about the seminar I had at 2 p.m. – a whole two and half hours away. I navigated my way through seas of ambling bodies, students of all ethnic groups, some huddled together laughing, others were laid about on the grass, just living in the moment. I felt a pang of envy for their simple lives.

  I had to remind myself that it was a short course, an easy, introductory level of just a few months to take me through to the summer when I would be free until September when the real work began. But it was still a shock to the system to find myself in alien surroundings amongst hundreds of people, trying to find my way to rooms – I felt as though I was eleven years old again, and it was the first day at secondary school.

  I was starting to feel deflated, as though all of this were for what? Who was I doing this for? I had suffered, I was suffering, did I need to prove to myself or anyone else that I could carry on? Was life really worth living when it was only you that you were living it for?

  I found my way into the main campus building, rounded a corner and collided with another body. Male and heavy.

  ‘I’m sorry, are you okay?’ He rested both his hands on my shoulders and attentively checked me over. It was too much for me, the physical contact as he held me at arm’s-length and looked me up and down. I shook myself out of his soft grip, then looked up and was relieved to see one of the nicest faces with the kindest eyes that I had seen in a long time. A face that was shrouded in a messy, short beard and set on a lean frame. At first glance I would have pinned him as mid- to late-thirties. He was wearing a thick denim jacket with a grey hood poking out of the top. He reminded me of an American lumberjack.

  ‘God, I’m so sorry.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay, well, so sorry again. I’m racing around like a doofus. My mum always told me off about that as a kid. I’m Will.’ He offered me his hand.

  ‘Oh.’ I wasn’t prepared for an introduction. ‘Regi.’ I gave his hand a quick shake and tried not to wince at the intimacy.

  ‘Oh, wow, is that short for Regina?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘So your parents saw you as a queen, did they?’

  ‘You know your name meanings,’ I said swiftly, looking around at the bustle of the corridor.

  ‘I dabbled in some onomastics prior to anthropology, sociology, and now I teach philosophy.’

  ‘Oh wow, that’s some resumé.’ My interest had suddenly piqued.

  Will acknowledged the compliment with a smile and tilt of his head. ‘So, what do you teach?’

  ‘Teach? Oh no, I’m here as a student. Textiles. I’m an artist of sorts.’ I looked down at my feet.

  ‘Wow, well done, that’s great, a mature student – I mean, you don’t look mature mature. I just thought as the average age here is twenty-one that you were a teacher, but student, that’s cool. Really cool.’

  I smiled at how he tripped over his words and half shrugged his shoulders, self-conscious of his words.

  I smiled and shuffled my feet awkwardly and considered what was happening here: a male and female roughly the same age bumping into one another in a college corridor. Was this a meet-cute? Whatever it was, I could not and would not allow myself to think anything of it.

  ‘Anyway… Will, it was good to bump into you, but I’ve got some serious getting lost to do in this huge place, so if you would excuse me.’

  ‘Of course, of course. Although if you do get lost and you can’t find your way back to the main campus, you can usually find me in Room 4, just off the main hall. I could help you on your way again, or at least offer you some refreshments.’

  ‘Room 4, main hall. Great.’ I gave a small salute. As I walked away, I laid my hand on my chest to steady my quivering heart.

  I found the library first, a great ornate section of the uni that looked as though it had been there for decades. I instantly felt calmer as I swept past the large oval reception and began to walk between the aisles of books; I felt safe amongst the words and paper.

  At the end of an aisle there was a small chair, which I needed no encouragement to sit in. From here I could see people gliding past as they perused the shelves of books. I felt the weight of the day catch up on me as jittery bubbles leapt through my stomach. I had stepped into the toilet on the way to the library; once inside the cubicle I opened and locked the toilet door six times. The girl in the next cubicle asked whether I was stuck.

  Now sat in the comfy chair in the library, I pulled out my notepad and pencil, hoping inspiration would flood through me after my first lesson and I could get some sketches down, but all I could feel was heaviness in my head as my eyes fluttered shut.

  I jolted and sucked in a breath as my eyes opened and my heart raced. I didn’t remember closing them and if I did, I had only meant to rest them, not fall asleep. I hadn’t slept well last night, but I had presumed it had been because of the face in the utility window, but in hindsight perhaps I had been anxious about my first day. I sat there panting, trying to get to grips with my surroundings. I looked at my phone to see what time it was. I had been asleep for a matter of minutes. I looked back up, and my eyes caught sight of a black baseball cap at the end of the aisle. My mouth went dry and I grabbed my bag and coat and shot up out of the chair. I hurried to the end of the aisle where I saw the tall male in the baseball cap walking with intent towards the reception and then exit. I sped up and found I was inches away from the back of him but not knowing what I would say or do if he turned. I did not have the confidence to initiate a move. Was it him or was I doing what Mini had suggested and hallucinating? Suddenly, he stopped and bent down to pick something up. He spoke but I could barely hear his voice, but I could tell his words were aimed at a woman who had just walked past me and also past him. She stopped and turned, took two steps back and thanked him for whatever it was she had dropped. He turned towards me slightly and I could see some more of him. He had the same build and that trademark baseball cap, but immediately I could see that I was mistaken. I edged away, I didn’t know this man. I skirted around them both to get to the door and headed out of the library into the fresh air, where I inhaled big gulps of oxygen.

  Instagram post: 29th April 2019

  Hello, my lovely cleaners. How are you all? I’ve been a bit busy getting into the spring-fever spirit. Does anyone else get spring fever? As soon as that cold spell ends, and I feel a waft of warmer air, I’m all over it. I start with the windows because as soon as I see that sun coming through, it shows up every smear. I have always used a very old-fashioned method for washing my windows – it was passed down my family generations that way. My method is one part distilled vinegar to ten parts warm water in a spray bottle. Always give the windows a wipe down with a microfibre cloth or paper towel first to get rid of any dust. Then you’re good to go. I’ve done before-and-after shots so you can see just how good the technique is.

  Happy spring cleaning!

  Mrs C x

  #springclean #lovinglife #mrsclean #cleaningwindows

  164,458 likes

  staffiemumjenni Could this woman’s house get any better? Great window-cleaning tip.

  caraway98 This woman is amazing. I love her style.

  the_sunday_feeling Why can’t I see her face?

  @wisewoman45 Cos she wants to be anonymous. So people like you don’t start slating her.

  the_sunday_feeling Hey! I was only asking @wisewoman45. I would never slate someone on here.

  escapetothebookshelf She’s like the Banksy of Instagram.

  underthe_sheets I think it’s inspiring. I wish more people would focus on the art rather than the person.

  lucybest65 I think it’s weird.

  7

  Now

  I arrived home after my afternoon lecture and immediately raced to my room. I found all the pound coins I could and stacked them up in fours, then nudged them into a perfect line. I opened and closed the window, pulling the lock across, then unlocking it again, only to relock it a further six
times. I ripped the sheets from the bed and found the dry ones that I had brought up that morning from the tumble dryer. I performed the meticulous task of making sure the flat sheet had perfect hospital corners.

  I felt hot after the exertion and walked to the window, daring myself to unlock it and open it an inch. A cool breeze trickled through and I took a moment to allow the spring-afternoon air to cool my face. I even closed my eyes for a second.

  Then I heard it. The undeniable sound of ‘Mama’. I stumbled backwards. Was someone playing a trick on me?

  I stood on the chair and peered through my window that looked out over the first four back gardens on the street, and I could just about make out a tiny frame under the arm of a woman with the flash of blonde hair. I was sure it was the same woman I had seen dragging the child inside the other day. Here she was again, heading back into the house with the child tucked under her arm like a rugby ball. The child, who I still couldn’t make out if they were a boy or a girl because of their wild hair, was beating the back of the woman. I heard their back door slam and the tiny echoing protests of the child.

  My heart was wrenching as I climbed down from the chair and stumbled away from the window, falling into another chair in the corner of the room. It was just a test. I could get through this. There were always going to be times when I was reminded too vividly of my past, but I wasn’t prepared. I thought about the locks of hair that were so familiar, the pained cries that pelted through my body and filled me with the guilt I would never be rid of.

  Moving to this house had been the best decision yet. For the first time in a long time, I felt as though I had come up for air, but, now, I was being plunged back into the icy depths of water again.

  There was a knock at my door. I jumped from the chair and stumbled forwards. I opened and closed the lock five times before opening it on the sixth, no longer caring that I probably appeared to be a crazy person to everyone in this house. I had the urge, the compulsion; the monster had reared itself and I had to feed it. Thankfully, it was Sophia on the other side.