Page 8 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
Chapter 4
THEN
I sat on the roof of my friend Lily’s college swigging champagne – well, incredibly cheap, soapy-tasting cava – from a bottle as I watched the sun set over Oxford’s dreaming spires. Earlier that day I’d got the call, the one I’d been working towards for the last five years. In a world where jobs were being slashed and entry-level roles were virtually non-existent, I’d managed to snag a rare grad job. All the long hours in the library, the endless ‘group’ assignments I’d done single-handedly, the countless interviews in my one suit, answering bizarre questions (‘How many cats are there in Canada?’), university holidays jammed with internships – they’d all paid off. I waited for a sense of satisfaction or pride or fulfilment to wash over me.
‘Are you... okay?’ A deep, concerned voice with an Australian accent spoke from somewhere behind me. I spun around and saw a very tall guy walking towards me, with almost exaggerated slowness, down the sloped roof.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’m... celebrating,’ I replied, holding up my bottle.
Visible relief washed over his face. ‘Great. I just thought, maybe, you were going to...’
‘Oh, no, sorry. The opposite,’ I said.
‘It’s just you looked so sad... and you’re on a roof. I’ve never seen anyone else up here before,’ he said. He exhaled and I realised I’d frightened him. ‘God, I thought I was about to see the opening of anInspector Morseepisode play out in real life.’
‘I’m happy. I told you, I’m celebrating,’ I said. Though actually I wondered if Ihadlooked a bit... morose. ‘Though if this was the opening of anInspector Morseepisode and I’d...you know... you would be the prime suspect.’
‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘But by the end of the episode they would have worked out that it wasn’t me. Your death would have been caused by some strange cult led by a professor who egged on some impressionable students.’
‘And the key to the mystery would be hidden in a crossword puzzle. In Greek,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘I don’t think I’ve met anyone else from our generation who’s watchedInspector Morse,’ he said.
‘My grandma Evelyn had a crush on him. We watched it together,’ I said. ‘You?’
‘My mum loved it,’ he replied. I noted his use of the past tense but didn’t say anything – I got the sense he’d already given away more than he normally would. ‘Also, I used to want to be a detective when I grew up.’
‘What changed?’ I asked.
‘I found a new mystery to solve,’ he replied with a nonchalant shrug he almost pulled off. ‘What did you want to be when you grew up?’
‘A ballerina,’ I lied.
‘So why are you sad on a roof?’ he asked. Two piercing blue eyes stared down at me.
‘I already said I’m not sad. Why areyouup here?’ I knew I sounded defensive, but I felt exposed. He was really looking at me. And I had the strangest feeling that he could... read me.
‘I like to eat breakfast up here,’ he replied, and I now noticed that he was holding a bowl and a spoon.
‘Breakfast?’ The sun had almost set – the sky was now a darkening swirl of deep pinks and purples over the college walls and towers.
‘I have a big deadline, and I often work through the night. I don’t like to be interrupted and life’s too short to sleep,’ he said. He sat down on the grey slate roof, not exactly next to me but close enough that we could easily talk.
‘What are you celebrating?’ he asked.
‘I got a job today,’ I said.
‘What job?’ he asked.
‘I’m going to be a management consultant,’ I said. I waited for him to be impressed.
‘Solving the world’s problems one spreadsheet at a time,’ he replied, judgement dripping from his voice.
‘I think the correct reply is “congratulations”,’ I said, surprised at myself for saying exactly what I meant. Maybe it was the cava? ‘What lofty, noble career are you working towards?’
‘I’m going to cure heart disease,’ he said. His tone was matter of fact, and there was no arrogance or pride in his voice.
I burst out laughing. ‘God, this university is so ridiculous. No one just wants a job, they want acalling. Everyone is going to change the world,’ I said, feeling uncharacteristically bold.
