When she spins back round, she catches my eyes. I feel hot embarrassment rush through me, even though she smiles. I quickly return to my suitcase and zip it up just so I have something to do. I hope she doesn’t think I was staring at her. I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She’s so beautiful that she must get people looking at her all the time, but it’s not the same in a tiny shared room. I don’t want her to think I’m ogling her, for God’s sake. I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.
Seemingly oblivious to my internal panic, Dolly continues her stretches and says, ‘When I was a kid, people used to think it was a fake name, like I chose it, but nope, it’s my real name.’
I tuck the sleeves of my cardigan into my fist, and somehow that makes me feel more of a person again. ‘After Dolly Parton?’
‘No, but she is an icon. My mum was well into The Cranberries when she was pregnant with me, so I’m named after the lead singer Dolores, but she has literally never called me my government name in my life. Even when I was being a little shit.’
‘I thought it might have been the blonde,’ I say and then realise that’s a very silly thing to say to someone who has very obviously bleached hair.
‘Oh no, this is all the handiwork of Derek on Bold Street.’She flicks her icy edges, sharp like a knife. Something about it reminds me of protective animal camouflage, like big scary eyes on butterfly wings to ward off predators.
‘It suits you,’ I blurt.
‘Thanks. I agree.’
‘And thank you, about confirming your name and not being, you know… I just mean, I don’t want to make a faux pas on my first day.’
She holds up her hands, presumably to make me stop word-vomiting. ‘After today, I barely remember my own name.’
‘I’ve heard it’s Dolly.’
‘Ohyeah, that’s it.’ She jokingly hits herself on the forehead, and we both laugh.
There’s that calm again. I wish I could say I wasn’t always like this, oscillating wildly between awkward and messy and comfortable and nervous. It’s definitely more pronounced right now, because I want Dolly to like me. She’s my roommate, and maybe a friend? I never really know about the latter until someone tells me, if I’m honest.
It feels strange to still be at square one after the Situation, but we didn’t really get a chance to speak in that way. Maybe I should ask Dolly about herself now, so I panic a little less. If we’re missed, I’m sure Bridget will come get us.
I sit down on my bed cross-legged the way I like to but shouldn’t because my knees always get angry. ‘So, where are you from?’ I ask.
‘Liverpool, born and bred.’
This throws me a little because her accent does not say Scouser to me. Maybe she’s posh and went to private school? She sounds posh to my naive ears.
‘I’m just over the border. But not the holidaying part of North Wales. I’m from Wrexham.’
She narrows her eyes at me, but there’s a flicker of a smile onher red lips. ‘By the ‘holidaying part’ do you mean Anglesey, or the caravan parks along the Rhyl seafront?’
She’s got me there. Ididmean Anglesey. The posher holidaymakers don’t generally hit up the caravan parks and the rickety old fairgrounds (more fool them, I think). I know accent doesn’t always mean everything, but for English people it does tell you a lot. Someone with an accent like hers usually has one of those second homes they’re trying to triple-tax people into selling.
Did I read her that wrong? Dolly doesn’t seem upset by my misjudgement.
‘Auntie Carol took me and my cousin Jas to one of the caravan parks on the coast for a holiday when we were teenagers, but I think it was way further round than you. Shell Island it was called, and it was bizarrely not an island.’
‘Many shells?’
‘I mean, as many as you’d expect to find on a beach but not so much to name yourself after the fact.’
I snort-laugh again. Dolly seems able to summon them from me.
‘Anyway, Carol had this notion we’d do a load of “wild swimming”, but it was too cold to do more than stick a toe in.’
‘We just call that swimming.’
Dolly barks with a laugh, and I feel proud. I want to make her do that again.
The group cheers from the living room, and we both glance at the door. My stomach sinks, because really I’d love to just stay here and talk to Dolly more. Sharing a room doesn’t seem quite so scary anymore.
‘Time to face the music?’ I ask, and we both get up from our beds.
