1: An Empty Home

Saturday 4th January 2014

An eerie silence greeted me as I opened my front door. It was cold and inside, the air stale, having been empty over Christmas and New Year. I flicked the switch in the wall just inside, flooding the entrance with light, then walked through the hallway and the kitchen and into the utility room, where the heating controls were. I’d left the house to stay with Vicky for Christmas, on the same day that Hannah had left Westmouth with her father. Before locking up, I’d turned the heating off entirely. Partly to try and save some money—not that I really needed to save money—but more to do my bit to help save the planet.

After all, there’s no point heating an empty house.

I ended up staying with my sister and sister-in-law for almost two full weeks, and it was a welcome change from my usual routine at university—a break from the worries and responsibilities of study. It also kept me from dwelling on the end of my relationship with Hannah. I lent a hand in her restaurant—waiting tables like I used to do up at Micester Hall back when I was in sixth form. I worked from the twenty-third until the twenty-seventh—yes, that included Christmas Day itself and Boxing Day because Vicky was able to charge nearly triple her usual prices for meals on those days. She then closed the business for four days and we had a belated Christmas celebration at her home.

Her home. Hers and Jessica’s. Not mine. I was just a guest.

Vicky reopened the restaurant for a New Year’s Eve celebration, again charging far more than she usually would have been able to for a set menu. Guests—including Emily, Lisa, and their families at my expense—began arriving just before eight and stayed until well after one. It was a lively, laughter-filled evening with friends.

It really was a great couple of weeks.

But now I was back in Westmouth, in a cold, empty house, all alone.

Well, all alone for a little while, at least.

My phone beeped and vibrated in my pocket. I took it out, unlocked it and read the message from Imogen.

Hi, Paul. We’ve just got off the M25. Mark says we’re about an hour away.

It was late afternoon—or early evening if you prefer. Imogen had sent me a message just after lunch to say she and Mark were leaving Manchester, and she kept me updated for the entire trip.

After spending Christmas Day and Boxing Day with their respective families, Mark had gone down to South Wales to meet Imogen’s parents on the twenty-seventh. He stayed for a few days before he drove them both back to stay with his parents for the New Year celebrations.

They were then coming back to Westmouth together. It was about a five-hour journey, although Mark insisted he could do it in under four hours if the traffic was kind.

But the traffic was never kind on the motorways he’d be using. He’d have to come down the M6, and then either the M40 or the M1, and then around the M25—and all of those roads were notorious for heavy traffic.

I knew they were in love, but I wondered if they still would be by the time they got back. That kind of journey can be hell on relationships.

My plan had been to arrive early so that I could get the house warmed up after two weeks with the heating off and make sure there was plenty of hot water because I was sure they’d both want a shower—or want a shower together—and then order some pizza for delivery once they’d settled in.

I smiled to myself at the thought of seeing them again. I know it had only been two weeks, but I’d missed them. And I wanted to make sure they felt welcome. In many ways, they were as much a part of my family as Vicky and Jess—maybe even more so after the last year and a half. And this was as much their home as it was mine—at least, I hoped that’s how they thought of it.

Vanessa was due back the next day—I was picking her up from the train station again. We hadn’t been as close in the last semester as we had been back in the spring, but I still missed her too—she was as much a part of the rich tapestry of our household as anyone else—always laughing and smiling and with a kind word for everyone.

Term didn’t actually start for another week, but our household had returned to Westmouth early because Chloë had invited us to the World Première of her latest blockbuster movie in London’s glamorous Leicester Square.

I can’t say I was looking forward to the start of term. We had a ‘Reading Week’ for the first week, during which optional revision sessions replaced lectures. Two weeks of exams followed to round off the first semester. I sighed as I thought about the exams.

I hated exams.

I was confident that I knew the material because I’d studied hard, but I always worried that I’d mess up somehow on the day. I never had, up to now, not in my GCSE, A Levels or at university—but it was an ever-present niggle in the back of my mind.

Still, worrying about exams rather than anything else showed how far I’d come in a such a short space of time.

These exams represented the half-way point of my degree course—the end of the third of six semesters. I found that hard to believe. The first year and a half had flown by so quickly and so much had happened in that time. Eighteen months ago, I’d just returned from my trip around the USA and wasn’t in any better frame of mind than when I’d started the trip nine months prior.

If anything, I was in a worse mental state.

But things improved with the help of old friends, like Emily and Lisa, who already cared about me, and new friends like Mark, Imogen, Vanessa and, latterly, Hannah, and I was in a far, far better place now. Immeasurably better.

The exams took us to the end of January, and the new semester started at the beginning of February—that meant a whole new set of modules with a new timetable of lectures, seminars and tutorials, including the elective module I was taking on Economics. I figured that was appropriate given my circumstances.

Chloë’s Première was on Wednesday evening, starting at seven, and our plan was to travel to London by train as a group on Tuesday—Emily and Lisa had been invited too—and stay in a hotel. We were going to get there early, do some shopping and sightseeing during the day on Tuesday and again on Wednesday morning before attending not just the Première but also the ‘after-party’ in the evening until late. We’d then stay one more night in the hotel before getting the train home on Thursday morning. Emily would then head back to her Student Village house on Friday, and Lisa would head back to Cambridge on the same day.

Well, that was the plan. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans.

---

“Paul! We’re back!” The call came from the hallway. “Paul?”

“In the living room,” I called back. “Thought I’d watch the big telly while I have the chance.”

“Oy!” Mark said, knowing full well my comment was meant for him—he spent more time in front of the fifty-five-inch TV in the living room than I did.

The two of them came into the living room, Imogen first and Mark behind. I was in “Mark’s” armchair, and he gave me a dirty look before sitting on the sofa next to his girlfriend.

“Good journey?” I asked.

“Horrendous,” Mark replied. “That section of the M6 around Birmingham is a fucking nightmare. And don’t even get me started on the M25. And the road works! Fucking everywhere!”

Imogen put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “It wasn’t that bad,” she said. “Not really.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Yeah, I suppose. At least I had you there to talk to.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is this what you two were like last term when I wasn’t around?”

“Fuck you,” Mark said with a smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Don’t be mean,” Imogen said, also grinning.

Mark shrugged. “I’m going to make a brew, anyone want one?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Imogen said. “I’m going to take my bags upstairs and have a shower.”

Mark nodded, then looked at me. I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks. But I was going to order a pizza, you both okay with that?”

Both nodded, and while Mark went into the kitchen, Imogen went upstairs, and I went to get my laptop so I could order the pizza, smiling to myself as I did. It was good to have them back.

---

Just under an hour later, we sat around the kitchen table finishing the last of the pizza and washing it down with a beer. Well, Mark and I were washing it down with a beer—Imogen had opened a bottle of white wine and poured herself a large glass. It was about half-past nine.

“I’ve been wondering…” Imogen said. “Well, we’ve been wondering…” Her tone was that of someone with a question to ask, but hesitant to ask it. “Would you mind if I… Well, if we… replaced the bed in my room with a double?”

I shrugged. “It’s up to you. It’s your room. And your bed. As long as you think it will fit.”

Imogen visibly relaxed. “Thanks. I was just… You know, I didn’t know if you’d… you know?”

“Look, Gen, if you’re going to spend your nights with this big lump, then you’re obviously going to need a bigger bed. It’s not a problem.”

“You sure?”

“I told you, I’m happy for you. For both of you.” I paused. “Plus, if he’s moving into your room, then maybe I can rent out the box room.”

“Oh, I’m not moving out completely,” Mark said. “I’ll still need somewhere to study.”

“Study? You? Ha! That’ll be the day.”

“Hey, shut it, you,” Mark said, his tone light in contrast to the words. “I get enough of that from her.” He nodded his head towards Imogen. “Just because I’m not writing five-thousand-word essays every other week doesn’t mean I don’t study. Four hours in the lab, twice a week—I’d like to see you do that.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Thought so.” He grinned. It looked like he and Imogen had the same banter about their choice of degree subjects that I’d had with Hannah.

“Aww, poor baby,” Imogen said, grinning and rubbing his arm. “Eight hours a week in a horrible lab full of sweaty, nerdy boys.”

He gave her a dirty look, then said, “Twelve hours a week next semester when we start our level two group project. Six hours a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Yeah, it must be tough,” I said, “six hours of pissing about with lasers and Bunsen burners.”

“It’s a physics lab,” he said, with a grin, “We don’t have Bunsen burners. We do have lasers, though. Really powerful ones. It’s so fucking cool.”

Imogen rolled her eyes, then drained the last few drops of wine from her glass.

“I think I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.” She looked at Mark. “Join me?”

He nodded. “Go get ready. I’ll be up in a bit. I want to ask Paul something.”

Imogen nodded, then got up and left the two of us alone. I looked at Mark and raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t often he straight up said he had something to ask.

“I’ll get to it,” he said. “I will. But you know me, right? It’s not easy, this stuff.”

I nodded.

“I wanted to say thanks first.”

“For what?”

“For this week. Sorting it all out. And for paying for it. You know me, mate. You know I like to pay my way and shit, but there’s no way I’d have been able to afford this—two nights in a posh hotel in London.”

“It’s not that posh.”

“It is to me, mate. I’m a northerner, remember?” He grinned. His being from ‘up north’ was a standing joke between us. “Seriously, though, you’re paying what…? Hundred quid a night per room? There’s no way I could have stretched to that—even going halves with Immy. I’d have been looking for some cheap place that would have been grotty as fuck—if we’d have stayed overnight at all. Probably would have just gone up on the train on the day and left early to get the last train back.”

“You know I’m happy to do it.”

“I know, mate. But still… Hundred quid a night. Two nights. And what…? Six rooms? That’s well over a grand. And that’s before any meals and drinks and stuff, which we all know you’ll try and pay for too.”

I shrugged. “It’s more like two hundred a night, but it’s only four rooms. I’ve got a twin with Jem. Lisa’s sharing with Vanessa, then there’s you and Gen, and Ems and Phil. I’m surprised that Ness isn’t bringing… er… What-his-name?”

“Mickey.”

“Yeah, Mickey. When did those two hook up, by the way? Have I really been so caught up in my own world that I didn’t notice?”

“Pretty much. Although, in fairness, your world since Halloween pretty much revolved around Hannah and you were happy, so no one could really blame you for not keeping up with what the rest of us were doing.”

“So, how long?”

“Not long after you got together with Hannah, I don’t think. Couple of weeks or so, maybe. You’ll have to ask Immy.”

“And you and Gen?”

He smirked. “Since the summer, mate.”

“But you kept denying it.”

“Course we did. We was being all discreet and shit, weren’t we?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look, though, mate, seriously… Thanks. Not just from me, but from Immy and the rest too. I mean, apart from the hotel and stuff, the only reason we’ve even been invited to this shindig is because you made friends with Chloë.”

I shrugged again. “I think the girls and their little group chat has more to do with it than me.”

“Maybe. But you’re the reason for the group chat in the first place, don’t forget. Have you even seen it, by the way? It’s mad.”

I shook my head. “No, although I did stupidly invite some of them to a separate chat to ask for some advice.”

He laughed. “Bet you thought that was a mistake after about ten minutes.”

“After five, actually.”

He laughed again. “Not surprised.”

“So you’ve seen this group of theirs?”

He nodded. “Immy wanted to add me, but I said no. She shows me on her phone though sometimes. I swear, I thought us guys took the piss out of each other in our chats, but theirs is worse. And some of the shit they put in there. Real personal shit. Boggles the fucking mind.”

I shook my head and took a sip from my nearly empty beer.

“You said you had something to ask me.”

He shuffled in his seat. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” He drained his beer and then cleared his throat. “Look, the thing is… It’s like… You know my Gran died last year. Last March.”

I nodded. I vaguely remembered it, but… well… You know. I had my own shit to deal with.

“Well, they’ve sorted everything out now. You know, like sold her house and cashed in all her insurances and bank accounts and shit. And she left me some money. I mean, not like… Money. Like what you’ve got. It’s only about thirty-five grand, a bit more. Mam’s really pissed about it, because Gran left more to us grandkids than she did her kids. Like our parents, you know? I mean Mam still got something. She got more than me actually, because even though Gran left like one-third to her kids and two-thirds to us grandkids, our parents’ share was only split three ways, between Mam and her brother and sister, but our bit, like, the grandkids, well, there’s eight of us, ain’t there? Does that make sense?

“Anyway, Mam was expecting more than she got, I think. I think she wanted to pay off the mortgage or something, but it’s not enough.

“Why am I telling you all that? Fucked if I know. Look, the point is, I’ve suddenly got a bit of money and, like, I don’t know what to do with it. And, like, you’re the only person I know with money, you know? And even though I’ve not got nearly as much as you, I just thought…” He shrugged.

I nodded. “I get it. I think.” I paused. “Where’s the money now?”

“Just in my account. It’s mad. I’ve never seen so many digits.”

“Well, the first thing I’d say is to move it. Open a savings account at the same bank and put it in there, so at least it’s getting some interest.”

He looked thoughtful. “I never thought of that.”

“There’s a load of different types of savings accounts. And they all have different interest rates, but you have to be careful ‘cause they have different terms and conditions. So, like, most of my money is in an account with a really good interest rate, but I have to give them six months’ notice if I want to take it out, or I lose some interest as a penalty. I mean, that’s fine, because I never wanted to take it out, you know?” I shrugged. I knew Mark understood. “But you don’t want to do that. Well, not six months anyway. Maybe a month’s notice if the interest is worth it. But, honestly, for now, just go for something simple like an instant access account. The interest won’t be much, but it’s better than nothing. Then I’ll put you in contact with Bobby—” I grinned, knowing how the next three words would sound. “—my financial advisor.”

Mark laughed. “Yeah. Right. Me with a financial advisor. It’s mad. But yeah, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I was wondering though… This company you’ve set up. Is it, like… I mean, can anyone buy shares in it? I mean, I know thirty-five grand isn’t much to you, but could I use it to…” He shrugged.

“I don’t know. I mean, in theory, I could sell shares to anyone. But… I don’t know. Maybe let’s wait and see if the company is worthwhile before I start selling bits off to my friends.”

“Yeah. I see what you mean. But… just… you know. Keep me in mind if you’re looking for… what do they call it? Outside investment?”