‘Us? Or you? You could go without me,’ I suggest. ‘Just in case I get another last-minute job and can’t make it again?’
‘I don’t want to go without you,’ he replies.
‘I don’t know what to say. I can’t turn jobs down, if I want to earn good money. If I keep saying no because I’ve got tutorials, they’ll drop me.’
‘You hardly ever say no. You’re always away. You’re missing loads of your course.’
‘I’m not always away. I’m always here. I’m really careful about which jobs I take, so they don’t affect my degree, but this one is in Thailand. It’s exciting. It’s for a womenswear retailer – I’m lucky to have been picked and it’s great money.It’s only four days, and two of them are weekend days, so don’t worry,’ I try to soothe him. ‘I’m not bothered about the two days I’m missing of my course. I’m only sorry I’m not coming with you to your parents’.’
That’s a total lie and I feel bad for saying it, but it’s nicer than the truth, which is that David and Chrissie have become two of my least favourite people. They clearly dislike me. Chrissie’s face does that sucking-a-lemon thing whenever I say something she doesn’t agree with. And then she tries to convince me otherwise, making me feel stupid, as if my point isn’t valid and I’ve got no brain cells. She’s ramped this up since she found out that I model in my spare time. It annoys me that Ben doesn’t tell her to pipe down, but he has no sway, no power over his own parents, and I have no idea how he’s put up with it for so long.
‘I need a drink,’ he says, as if on cue. ‘Want one?’
‘No. I can’t,’ I say. ‘It’s a swimwear shoot, so I’ve got to watch the calories. And I thought you were cutting back on the drinking.’
‘I have cut back,’ Ben insists. ‘Just one big glass of wine, rather than two, while I cook you dinner. I’m feeling very grown-up about it. Don’t moan – or no dinner.’
‘Hmm, fair enough.’
He has made more of an effort with his drinking. Since we had the impromptu chat at Ben’s local pub the Christmas before last, he’s been keeping a close eye on his alcohol intake. Or, rather,we’vebeen keeping a close eye. He still drinks every day – a fact I still can’t comprehend – but he’s cut it back to one glass of wine now.
I check my emails while Ben cooks dinner. Liv and Ollie are out with people from their courses. I wish I’d made better friends with people from my course. They all seemed to know what they were doing from the get-go and formed cliques that I didn’t seem to be able to penetrate. Looking back now, I’m so relieved the four of us got placed together in halls. I’d have been so lonely, if not. I speak to a few people about coursework here and there and we have coffee in between lectures, but it was a particularly low moment to find out that six of them from my group, who – like me – intend to focus on Jane Austen for their dissertations, went on a cheap weekend away to a cottage in Hampshire and then to the Jane Austen museum together. I saw their photos on social media and it looked so much fun. I thought the social side of uni would be easy. I didn’t expect all of this to be quite so hard.
I close my eyes, play that scene over that Liv conjured for me months ago: me, successful, acing my modelling career, not being at university.
‘You OK?’ Ben asks as he grabs some dried noodles and soy sauce from the cupboards.
‘Yeah,’ I say slowly. ‘I think so. Ben, if I tell you something, will you promise not to try and talk me out of it?’
He narrows his eyes. ‘I’m not sure. Try me.’
‘I think I’m going to drop out of uni.’
He puts the noodles and sauce down and lets out a long ‘Ooooof’ noise. ‘Are you being serious?’
‘Yeah. No. I’m not sure. Tell me it’s a terrible decision and I should stick it out.’
‘Is that what you want me to say?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘I want you to tell me to go for it. I want you to tell me I should focus on modelling and earn us tons of money.’
‘Us?’ he looks confused.
‘Why not?’ I reply. ‘I love you. You love me. What are we doing this for, if it’s not long-term?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Sorry, there’s a lot to digest here.’
‘Is there?’ I don’t usually like to play it cool, but across the nearly two years of being with Ben, if you’d asked which of us shows the most affection in our relationship, the answer would have been Ben. But now I’m the one wearing my heart on my sleeve.
‘Ben, what are we doing this for?’ I ask again. ‘This is for a while, right: you and me?’
‘Yes,’ he replies without hesitation. ‘I love you. I really do. But I’m uncertain if you dropping out and being a model is the right thing to do. It doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.’
‘Why not?’ I ask, taking him seriously.
‘It just doesn’t. I can’t put my finger on exactly why. It feels like—’
The front door opens and we both fall silent.
