Impossible to Forget(7)

‘I think it’s this way,’ offered Leon, and they set off towards the fire doors that punctuated the long corridor.

‘So, what are you here to read?’ he asked. Maggie noticed his use of the old-fashioned expression and appreciated it. She prided herself on the use of correct terminology. Every time anyone asked her what she was going to ‘do’ at York she shuddered inside.

‘Law,’ she said proudly. Would that ever fade, she wondered, the frisson that she felt when she uttered that word?

Leon raised an eyebrow, like most people did when she told them, as if studying law was something that merited particular deference.

‘And you?’ she asked. It would be something dull like maths, she thought, or economics.

‘Chemical engineering,’ he said, and now it was her turn to be impressed. She wasn’t entirely sure what that even entailed – she had focused on the arts at school – but now wasn’t the time to confess to her ignorance.

‘Blimey,’ she said, because what else was there to say?

They left the hall of residence and followed the signs to the refectory. The campus was dominated by a huge man-made lake at its heart which shimmered and sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine. Students sprawled on the grassy banks chatting and laughing. It was all so perfect.

‘Do you know anyone else here?’ Maggie asked Leon, prompted by the little groups of freshers.

‘There’s a mate of a mate in the second year but he’s in a different college, and a couple of girls from school are here too, but I doubt they’d acknowledge me if they saw me.’ He gave her a wry little smile. ‘Our ideas of what constitutes cool don’t really tally.’

Maggie could understand that. She had never been particularly ‘cool’ herself, not that it bothered her. She had more important things to focus on.

‘I don’t know anyone either,’ she said. ‘Most of the people from my school have gone to places in London.’

‘I thought you sounded a bit southern,’ Leon said. He made it sound like an insult, but he was grinning, so Maggie decided he didn’t mean anything by it.

‘Worcester,’ she replied. ‘You?’

‘Leeds.’ He rolled his eyes as he added, ‘I know, just down the road. But my mum worries about me and the course is just what I wanted.’

‘I don’t think it matters,’ said Maggie. ‘The main thing is that we’re here.’

‘True enough,’ replied Leon.

Following the increasing hubbub and the slightly sickening smell of canteen cooking, they arrived at the refectory. There was already a queue snaking out of the doors and into the corridor.

‘Looks like they’ve all had the same idea,’ said Leon.

Maggie nodded. The food smelt unappetizing, overcooked and stodgy.

‘I think I’m just going to get a salad,’ she said. ‘It’s so hot in those rooms, isn’t it? Shall we sit together at a table over there, or would you rather split up and take pot luck somewhere else? I won’t be offended.’

For a second Leon looked horrified at the idea of having to find another person to talk to. ‘No, I’m happy to sit with you. Unless you’d rather . . .’

‘That’s fine by me,’ said Maggie. He was a nice enough guy and the expedient option. It was to be hoped, however, that she didn’t come to regret her current friendliness and spend the rest of the year trying to shake him off. She had once read that observation in a novel but now she couldn’t remember for the life of her which one.

Soon the two of them were sitting side by side looking out at the collected mass of new students. They seemed to fall into two camps: those who had found a gang to cling to and moved about in unison so tightly that you could barely slide a piece of paper between them, and those who were resolutely alone. Maggie had thought that she wouldn’t care who she met in the early days, but now that she was here and saw just how alone the singletons looked, she felt very grateful for having stumbled across Leon. And he seemed like a reasonable bloke, once you got past the Marks and Spencer jeans and the accountant haircut. He was even quite witty, in an understated kind of way.

The salad was passable. Leon had opted for a pasta dish that looked flabby and as if it had sat under hot lamps for too long, but it didn’t seem to put him off and he worked his way through the plateful as they plucked conversational starters out of the air. He lived in Leeds, as he’d said, with his parents and a younger brother who liked football and wanted to play for Leeds United. It was clear from the way he told the story that this wasn’t an ambition that Leon shared but he seemed proud of him, nonetheless.

Then there was some commotion by the servery that caught Maggie’s attention. It was that girl again, the one who had barged into her room demanding toilet paper. She was standing with her hands on her hips and shouting at the blue-rinsed woman who was serving at the counter.

‘No, “love”,’ she said with measured sarcasm. ‘Fish is not vegetarian. Fish is fish. Vegetarian means it’s made of veg-e-ta-bles. Oh, never mind. I’ll have the tomato soup. Or has that got some chicken hiding in it?’

Leon raised an eyebrow.

‘How to win friends and influence people,’ he said with a grin.

‘Did she knock on your door looking for loo roll?’ Maggie asked. ‘Earlier, I mean.’