He's After Me

Chapter TWENTY-TWO



The next day at college I can hardly contain my excitement. I’m going to meet Jem after work and, if we feel like it, we’re going out tagging. Then it’s back to Dad’s.

I’m elated, but scared.

In my free period I go down to the library to try to get some work done. I’m so behind it’s difficult to know where to start. I need to revise for a test in Sociology but I’m missing half the notes. I bow my head and read over what I’ve got, trying to fight down a rising feeling of panic. I’m never going to pass.

‘Hi.’

I look up. Zoe’s standing in front of me.

‘Hi.’

There’s an awkward silence. We’ve hardly spoken since the incident in the common-room. she’s a bright girl, Zoe. I was afraid she’d found us out but she’d never mentioned it.

‘What you up to?’

‘Revising. We’ve got a test next lesson, haven’t we?’

She nods, eyeing my thin file dubiously. I close it with a thump. ‘There’s no point, I’ve missed too much.’

‘Borrow mine,’ she says and she hands me her file. ‘I’m up to date.’

‘Thanks.’ I smile at her gratefully. ‘You’re a life-saver.’ She smiles back.

‘Look,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you come round to mine tonight after college?’

I hesitate.

‘Sorry. Silly me. You’re busy,’ she says, her voice clipped, and turns away. I don’t want her to go.

‘No, wait!’ I’m trying to work it all out in my head. Jem’s going to work straight through today, he won’t be waiting for me at home. I could do it. I could go home with Zoe then nip back to mine to change and pick up my stuff and meet him as planned after work. I come to a decision.

‘That would be great, Zo, I’d love to.’

Her face lights up in surprise. ‘Brilliant! We can go out if you want? Or get takeaway? Whatever you want.’

‘Fine. I just need to phone to say what I’m doing.’

‘Jem?’ Her smile turns into a scowl. ‘He’ll talk you out of it.’

‘No he won’t! Anyway, it’s my mum I have to ring, not him.

She has the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Sorry. It’ll be great to catch up. It’s been ages.’

Damn right it has. Too late I remember I’ve been deliberately keeping my distance from Zoe since the newspaper incident. But it looks as if she’s forgotten all about it.

‘Better get on with my work,’ I say, indicating the file. ‘Thanks for the notes.’

I start working my way through them but it’s like wading through treacle. I’ve missed too much. I’ll never catch up.

My tutor thinks so too. At the end of the test he flicks through the meagre pages I hand in, his lips pursed.

‘Maybe you should consider dropping Sociology, Anna, and concentrate on your other subjects,’ he says, in front of everyone. My cheeks flame as the others exchange startled glances. Hypocrite! His voice is full of oily concern but all he cares about is his exam results.

The day goes from bad to worse. In English, where I thought I’d been more or less keeping up, Mrs Hopkins, my favourite teacher and my personal tutor, tells me my latest essay is not up to its usual standard. In French I get into trouble for not handing in my work. When I walk into the Art room, my Art teacher pretends to do a double-take. ‘How nice to see you, Miss Williams! We’d thought you’d left the country. Blah, blah, blah-de-blah …’ I walk straight back out again. I can’t take much more of this.

I’d have gone home, only I’d promised Zoe I’d wait for her, so I hang around in reception. Wrong move. Mrs Hopkins comes past and stops when she sees me.

‘Everything all right, Anna?’

‘Fine.’

‘Good. Only, I’ve just had a word with Mr Hall. He tells me he’s advised you to drop Sociology.’

Blimey, he didn’t waste much time! ‘Yes. It’s probably a good idea.’

‘Is anything wrong, dear? The thing is, Madame Cassian says that you’re struggling with French too.’

‘No. I’ve just fallen behind a bit, that’s all.’

Her kind, round face is full of concern. ‘You’re such a talented girl, but A levels are hard work. I have to admit even in English, I’ve noticed that your heart isn’t in it any more.’

She looks so sad, I deny it fiercely. ‘I love English! It’s just that I’ve got a lot on at the moment …’

‘Would you like to talk about it? I’m sure we could find some way to help you organize your time better …’

I wish. My phone rings. It’s Jem. ‘Not now. I can’t …’

She pats me lightly on the arm. ‘Come and see me tomorrow, morning break. We’ll have a chat. See if I can help.’

I nod blindly, her kindness making me want to cry, and watch her back view waddling away down the corridor.

‘How you doing?’ says Jem’s voice.

‘Terrible,’ I say flatly. ‘I’m in trouble with everyone. English, French, Sociology, Art. The lot. I might as well give up now.’

There’s silence on the other end. Then he says, ‘Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.’

‘What?’ I wasn’t expecting that. I was hoping for a bit of encouragement.

‘Pack it in. Who needs a degree anyway? All you’ll get is a headache, a massive debt and no job at the end of it.’

‘But I thought you wanted me to come to London with you?’ I say in surprise.

‘I do. Of course I do. But you don’t have to go to uni to do that. Get a job. Live off the state. University isn’t the only option.’

I swallow. It was for me. It was my dream.

Was.

I watch my dream mutate and disappear.

English degree in Newcastle.

English degree in London college.

Art degree in London college

Any sort of degree in any sort of college …

A vision of me telling my father I’d changed my mind again about my future passes before my eyes. ‘It’s OK, Dad, I’ve seen the light. I’m not going to that obscure college of higher education to study Art after all. I’m going to sell The Big Issue on Oxford Street instead.’ My father had very strong views indeed about what he referred to as ‘The Benefit Society’. He would probably have a heart attack.

‘Look, we’ll talk about it later. Don’t worry about it.’ His voice, calm and even, riles me. He has no idea. ‘Are you on your way home now?’

‘No, I’m going to Zoe’s.’

There’s silence at the end of the phone. ‘I thought we were meeting up?’ His voice is altered now, accusatory.

‘We are! But not till you finish work.’

‘Well make sure you’re not late then.’

My temper flares. ‘Don’t talk to me like that! I’ve had a shit day, Jem. I don’t need this!’

Silence.

And then the phone goes dead.





Spoilt bitch. Always wanting her own way.

He was too nice, that was his trouble. Too nice for his own good.

Maybe it was time to teach her a lesson.