The Roommates

The girl’s name is Lauren. She tears apart her chocolate cookie. “Where did you get that stuff from? When the intranet came on last night, I read all the articles in the links Dr Wyatt gave us. Took me hours on Google Translate, but I don’t remember half of what you said. Are you German?”

The tiny flame that’s flickered inside Imo since the seminar glows brighter. “Do you really want to know?” She leans forward, the compliment having made her talkative. “I messaged all the German guys I’ve matched with on Tinder and asked their opinion. Then I learnt what they said by heart.”

Lauren chokes on her biscuit. “How many guys was that?”

“I changed my Tinder Bio to: ‘I’m looking for a guy who loves post-war German politics’. To be honest, not many knew what I was on about. Viktor and Markus were useful, though. They were strongly opinionated in different ways.” She coughs again. It wrecks her chest.

The drink warms her. She can do normal things after all. Coffee with another student. Like everyone else. Even draw on the flirty Imogen from before to help her out with coursework. Sometimes. It’s not like she’s trying to be that person again.

Lauren puts down her cup. “What have you tried on your skin? I’ve gone through the over-the-counter potions. I wanted to go hard core but I couldn’t while I was …” She pauses and goes red. Imo notices her hand has started to shake. “I mean … when my mum wouldn’t let me. She can’t stop me now I’m here. Have you tried it?”

Imo wonders what Lauren almost let slip. She shakes her head. So it’s got round to her acne. It’s all anyone sees when they look at her. She glances at Lauren’s face. Spots round her nose and chin. No big deal. Imo’s had months of inflamed pustules on her cheeks, a face she hates and getting worse.

Lauren stares at her, waiting for an answer. Imo has no wish to prolong the conversation. What’s the point? She’s not going to be friends with this girl. Too much effort. Amber’s the only person she’s met at Abbeythorpe with whom she feels remotely comfortable. Amber does all the talking and has even more neuroses than she does. She thinks of the bangle lying abandoned on the tarmac, of the look of terror in Amber’s eyes as she left the fair, and wants to check she’s okay. She decides to call in at the canteen in case she’s gone there.

“I said I’d meet a friend for lunch,” she says and finishes her coffee.

Lauren looks at her phone. “A bit late, isn’t it?”

Imo stands up and sends Amber a text.

“Enjoy your research,” Lauren calls out as Imo leaves. She must think she’s looking at Tinder.

***

Amber doesn’t reply to Imo’s text and she’s not in the canteen or her room. When Imo follows the sound of Radio 1 to the kitchen, she finds Phoenix and Tegan tucking into beans on toast.

“Have you seen Amber?”

Phoenix looks up. “She might’ve gone back to the Freshers’ Fair. It’s on all week.” She returns her attention to her plate. “Probably bending that drama rep’s ear.”

“But you haven’t actually seen her?”

Tegan waves her fork. “You know you’re not her mummy.”

Imo wants to ignore the insult but feels her face reddening. “I had this weird dream about her,” she blurts out.

Tegan opens her mouth but Phoenix knocks her wrist to silence her.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” she says kindly.

Tegan puts her finished plate in the sink. “Is it just me or are you finding Amber a bit odd?”

Phoenix joins her at the sink. “She’s all right most of the time, but I can’t keep up with everything that’s wrong with her.”

A Nicki Minaj song comes on the radio and Tegan turns it up high. She sways in time to the beat, watching Phoenix wash up.

Their new flatmate suddenly appears in the doorway and makes them all jump.

“Hi, Riku,” Imo says, when she’s caught her breath. “Have you seen Amber?”

Face dark and thunderous, he heads past her to the radio. A moment later the music volume drops. Tegan’s eyes carve daggers into his head, but he doesn’t notice. Returns to his room, without uttering a word.

“You only had to ask if you wanted it turned down,” she calls out.

Phoenix dries her hands on a tea towel. “Let it go, Tegan. It was a bit loud.”

“Maybe you should have offered him some food,” Imo says. “Make more of an effort to be friendly.”

“I tried offering him coffee,” Phoenix says, “but he didn’t answer the door.”

Imo heads into the hallway. “Maybe that’s what Amber’s doing: not answering. I need to knock louder.”

Phoenix follows and grabs her shoulders, steers her back into the kitchen. “Relax, Imo, I knocked on her door and listened at it for ages. She’s not there. Let me make the three of us a coffee.”

“Not there?” Imo feels a tickle of unease, a familiar feeling of loss. A sense that someone is missing. “But she has to be.”

Chapter 13 (#ulink_12b6c2dd-b25f-597b-b5e2-15b167b4f4fd)

Tegan

Tegan lays out her stock samples on the kitchen table. She knows they won’t survive a night’s clubbing – theft or beer spillage will get them – but she might get some advance sales before that happens. A cough seizes her throat and she covers her mouth. They’ve all got coughs. When Amber reappears, she’s bound to claim she’s dying of consumption.

She watches Phoenix dry the mugs on the draining board and put them in a cupboard. Tegan can’t work her out. The girl has the looks and briskness of a tomboy so where does the regimented domesticity come from? Not boarding school – she lacks the polish of any of Tegan’s school friends; it’s more like she grew up in the army.

They hear a knock somewhere down the hall and find Imo trying Amber’s door again.

“This can’t be right.” Imo’s words sound slurred, and it’s not just because of her cold; she’s already holding a WKD. “Where is she? Why hasn’t she answered my texts?” She knocks again and wobbles on her heels. After another minute, she totters back to her room.

Phoenix says she’ll get a fresh tea towel from hers. Alone in the kitchen, Tegan hears a sound behind her.

“Christ!” She jumps. Riku’s in the doorway. “You shouldn’t creep up on people. What do you want?” she snaps.

He stares, cocking his head.

“Well, say something,” she demands and immediately knows she’s conceded the high ground. If someone threatens by not speaking, you have to give them silent menace back. Shout and you’ve lost. Her dad’s dictum. She tries to recover her position with a face-off, her brown eyes into his.

Eyes still locked on hers, Riku backs out of the kitchen. For a moment Tegan’s insides quake. She curses herself for feeling rattled.

Imo comes back a few minutes later, holding out her mobile. “I’ve called Hamid. He’ll be here in a tick to take us into town.” Her mouth seems to struggle to work as she explains Hamid is the taxi driver Amber got to know when he took them to the all-night garage. “She got us a good rate.”

Tegan can’t believe Imo is doing the same Business course as she is. Hasn’t she heard of market forces? Students are calling taxis every five minutes. Hamid and his mates can charge what they like.

But it turns out Imo has another motive for booking Hamid. On the short journey into town she quizzes him about Amber.

“She’s got shortish hair – dyed blonde, wears unusual clothes.”

“Sounds like most students.”