Page 19 of One Night With You

‘Truly, I cannot,’ says Harry. ‘My little brother doesn’t even know the dates of the war. I remember spending ages on it at school, since it was so recent. But I suppose as more time passes and there are fewer survivors …’

‘There are fewer people to encourage us to remember?’

‘Something like that.’

‘So it could be cool to talk to him about what? The war? Life after the war? Everything he’s seen in almost a century?’

Harry shrugs. ‘It’s like Veronica said – who can be sure where the most interesting bit will be found unless you start digging.’

I’m so obsessed with this man! Five minutes ago, I was sat with a soggy egg and cress and my thoughts, and nowhere is a coursemate who thinks like I do and is saying all the right things and is giving me that excited anything-is-possible feeling that I love so much. He’s beaming at me, and my skin tingles. He’s cute. Not that I notice things like that in The Year of Me. Obviously. It’s a transitory thought that leaves as quickly as it arrives.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘So he seems interesting. How do we even go about connecting with him? Do we just ask for a chat and hope he tells us something juicy? That seems like just using people. If he’s actually very dull, do we just move on?’

‘Well, three things,’ intones Harry, cheerily. ‘One, I’m loving the “we” here.’

I bow my head, as if to saywell, but of course – it was your idea.

‘Two, maybe we could do a tit for tat? See what he has to say, and at the very least make our class aware of the fundraiser and get a donation together. And three, can we contact him through the charity website?’

‘So yeah?’ I ask. ‘You wanna investigate together?’

‘I’m game if you are,’ says Harry. ‘Two heads are better than one, surely. It’s not marriage, just a chat with a potential lead. We can decide what to do about it later.’

A man with a plan – that’s attractive. I always end up being the organiser of stuff, but here is a chap who knows what he wants and how to go about getting it. I’m impressed.

‘Okay, well … hold on,’ I command, pulling out my phone. I see that Candice has tried to FaceTime and followed up with a message that says, simply, ‘When’s good?’, but I swipe it from the screen with a mental note to reply later, so I can pull up my web browser. I google the charity and find the site, and it takes three more clicks to get a contact box up, where I type in a short message about being twoyoung film-makers who want to set up a call with JP if he’d be willing to speak more about his story and life. I include my email address and phone number.

‘Done,’ I say. ‘I’ve reached out.’

‘And now we wait.’ Harry nods.

Neither of us speaks. It occurs to me that all of this could be an excuse just to get chatting to me. Obviously I’m not Kendall Jenner or anything, but he did just come up to me out of the blue.

‘Are you wondering if I’m hitting on you via the pretext of coursework?’ he says, reading my mind.

‘No!’ I insist, too quickly, and it makes him chuckle.

‘I’m not,’ he says. ‘Just to shoot straight, I’m gay. I am one hundred per cent engaging with you because you’re the only other person on this grad scheme even close to my age, and I knew from the stuff you’ve said in class that you’re clever.’

‘An ulterior motive of a different kind, then …’ I tease.

‘It worked, didn’t it?’

‘It did.’ I smile. I look at my watch – it’s time for me to go. ‘I don’t suppose you want to wander down to the undergraduate open night to see what they’ve been making, do you?’ I offer. I’m happy going to things on my own, but I like Harry, even after ten minutes of banter. Plus, if we end up working together it would be nice to know him more. ‘I don’t think it’ll be very good, but …’

‘But Veronica said that even in consuming art that feels underdeveloped, our critique of it will inform our education,’ supplies Harry, citing the guest lecturer again.

‘Are we a couple of geeks?’ I say, pulling a face. ‘I feel like between us we could transcribe her whole lecture.’

Harry waves a hand. ‘I’m not here to waste a second,’ he says. ‘This course is my idea of heaven. I worked as a teller ina bank for three years to save up the money to be here. I’m not saying Ineedthis course to change my life but, if it does …’

‘You won’t be mad about it,’ I interject.

‘I wear the geek crown with pride.’ He grins.

‘My kinda man,’ I declare, as we walk to the recycling and get rid of our rubbish. ‘I feel exactly the same.’

‘Well then you’re my kind of woman,’ Harry says. ‘Let’s go and cause some trouble, baby.’

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