Even though I want to scream at her to go and get her bloody coffee somewhere else and take her judgement with her, I plaster on my sweetest smile and say, in an exaggeratedly posh voice, ‘Of course. Is there anything else I can get you?’ The smile is painful, straining my face.
‘No, that’s all.’ She pushes back her coat sleeve – on her thick wrist is a shiny gold watch, which probably cost more than my car – and shakes her head when she notices the time. It’s all for show, to force me to hurry up, and because of this I take my time, pretending I’m having trouble with the coffee machine. I give her a shrug, as if to say I’m sorry, but inside I’m smirking.
Don’t get me wrong – I have nothing against wealthy people. Good for them. What I can’t take is people looking down on others, thinking they’re better than you.
When she finally leaves, I silently pray she disliked me enough to never come back in here, no matter how desperate she gets for caffeine, and then I clean the coffee machine again, just for something to do. This shift is the worst; it’s late and people are travelling home from work and probably not expecting us to be open, but Pierre insists on staying open until eight. He must know these last two hours are dead ones, but if he does, it doesn’t faze him. Perhaps he makes extra money doing something else. It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s always getting calls on his phone and never lets anyone hear what he’s saying. A bit dodgy, if you ask me. And believe me, I know how to spot it.
So I’ve got two more excruciating hours here, then an assignment waiting for me at home that I will probably fail, and each minute ticking by feels like a year. But then I turn around and a familiar face is smiling at me.
Zach Hamilton, one of my lecturers.
It takes me a moment to place him because he is so out of context here; I’ve never seen him outside of the university buildings.
‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Josie, isn’t it?’
How does he know my name? He must have a thousand students to teach and the academic year only started a couple of months ago. ‘Yeah, hi. Um, what can I get you?’
He orders an espresso to have sitting in and hands me a crisp new five-pound note. And as I turn away to prepare it, I feel his eyes on me.
‘Actually, I wanted to have a quick word with you after the lecture today, but you disappeared before I could catch you.’
This doesn’t sound good. I search my brain for something I could have done to warrant him needing to speak to me. ‘Yeah, I had to go home before I came to work.’ I hand him his drink. ‘What was it about?’ But I already know. He’s going to tell me my first assignment was rubbish, that I’ve got no chance of passing this module so I may as well give up now.
‘Nothing bad at all. Um, maybe we could have a chat now? Do you get a break?’
I’m not really given a break at this time, but I’m allowed to have a cigarette out the front if I get desperate. Thankfully, Pierre smokes so he’s happy to indulge me. I tell this to Zach.
He turns and glances through the window. ‘Okay, I can have this sitting out there. It might be minus five degrees but what the hell?’
The first thing I do when I get outside is light up because I’m nervous. There is so much riding on my degree and I can’t afford to fail a module. ‘So are you going to put me out of my misery?’ I ask, taking a deep pull on my cigarette and sitting opposite him. I don’t mean for the smoke to head straight in Zach’s direction, but it does and he tries to discreetly wave it away. ‘Sorry. You’re not a smoker, are you?’
‘No, not now, but I used to be in my youth.’
I laugh because he must only be in his thirties. ‘Yeah, I can see you’re heading for retirement.’ As soon as I say this I wonder where it’s come from. This man is one of my lecturers, not someone to have friendly banter with, but it’s too late to take it back now.
Thankfully he chuckles. ‘Not just yet. Anyway, I want to talk to you about your short story assignment. I’ve just finished marking them and, well, quite frankly, I was blown away by yours.’
I stare at him, wondering if somehow I’ve misheard. Or misunderstood. Does he mean he liked it? He can’t mean that. He must have got me mixed up with another student.
When I don’t answer, he carries on speaking. ‘Where did that come from? I mean, you’re so young to have such insight. I don’t mean to be patronising, but if I hadn’t known who’d written it I would swear they were much older.’
So he liked it. Relief pumps through my body, but I am still in shock. Nobody has ever praised me before. Not for something I’ve done, or created. The only compliments I’ve ever had have been from lecherous men, right before they’ve tried to sleep with me. ‘Um, thank you. I… I just wrote from the heart.’
He has no idea just how true this is. That I was able to bring my story to life because it was partly about her. I laid bare my soul with those words, but I guess it was worth it.
‘And I’m older than you think,’ I tell him. ‘It took me a while to get my A-levels, so I’m already twenty-one.’ The age of most third-year students.
Zach smiles. ‘Well, you’ve got a real talent, Josie. I really felt the character’s despair. What are you planning to do after university? I know you’ve only just started, but these years will fly by, you know. You really should think about what you want to do.’
But time isn’t passing quickly for me, it is stagnant, and the end of these student days can’t come soon enough. I need an accomplishment behind me, something to prove I really am nothing like her, that I’m not the selfish, heartless woman she is, because there are brief moments, tiny fragments of time, when I actually begin to wonder.
I don’t want to tell Zach I’m not sure, that it’s hard enough getting through each semester without the added pressure of deciding what to do with my qualification. But I’m not a fool – I know I need to decide quickly. The job market is tough and there is too much competition, too many people will be graduating with me. People who are much better than I am.
The answer comes to me without any thought. ‘Teacher training, I think. English, of course. Secondary school. The truth is, English is the only subject I’ve ever been interested in. The only one I was good at.’
A smile spreads across his face. ‘I’m sure that’s not true. But that’s great that you want to teach. It’s difficult, but definitely rewarding, I’d say. It means another year of studying, though, after your degree.’
But hopefully by then I should be better able to deal with it. Once I know I can achieve something. Yes, I have my A-levels, but I barely scraped by with the bare minimum I needed, and had to wait for clearing to get my place at the University of West London. I had my heart set on London, but I would have gone anywhere I could to get away from Brighton.
I take another pull on my cigarette, careful this time to turn right round when I exhale, and then look at Zach’s kind face. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’ He lifts his espresso and takes a sip.
‘Do you have any advice for… prioritising, I guess. I mean, things just keep getting in the way and I feel like I’m getting behind with it all. It’s weird – I want this so badly yet… I just keep procrastinating. Going out when I should be studying, then everything gets done at the last minute.’ I don’t tell him that it’s much deeper than this. That I need to be out of the flat and out of my mind – vodka or gin will usually do the trick – so I don’t have to think about anything. Then the next day I hate myself, and cram in as much studying as I can to make up for it. I will burn out soon enough – it has to all catch up with me eventually.
‘Hmm,’ Zach says. ‘That’s a tricky one. I probably shouldn’t say this but when I was in my first year at uni I didn’t take it too seriously. I think I was out most nights, just getting used to, and making the most of, student life. But I knuckled down eventually. And do you know what? You will be fine. If you can produce work like you’ve just done for me then you’ve got nothing to worry about.’