In the hall, he met a hoodie-wearing bloke who smelled like fried chicken. And what council estate did you come from? he thought.
“Oliver.”
“Hollis.”
They shook hands.
“Party tonight?” Oliver asked.
“Yeah, cool. Carling?”
“Sure.”
With a nod, Hollis continued downstairs, lighting a cigarette on the way. Council Estate could be all right then, Oliver decided. From the house phone in the hall, he rang home. No response. He hung up and tried one more time. Nothing.
“Whatever.”
He had better things to worry about, he decided, trotting out of the house. He didn’t need a fucking bed.
As day dragged into dusk, two bedrooms remained empty. Oliver’s party, however, prevented anyone from sparing a thought for their absent housemates. By the time the next to last arrived, no one even remembered that they were expecting anyone else. But reaching the house was all Maeve had in mind.
“Here. Here! No, turn here!”
“Which way is here?”
“The way I’m pointing!”
They circled the roundabout twice, Maeve gripping the instructions so tightly she thought they might rip. In the back seat, her little brother moaned, threatening to be sick.
“There. Caldwell Street. There!” She pointed. Her mother jerked the car to the left. “Careful!”
“This street’s not very well lit, is it?” Mum said.
“If we would’ve left on time, it wouldn’t matter.”
“I told you to finish packing last night, not wait till this morning.”
“I was standing by the car waiting to go. You were the one tottering about inside.”
“Is this it? Doesn’t look very safe.” They could hear the bass thumping through the house’s windows.
“This is it. I’ll get my things and you can go.” Maeve unbuckled her seat belt.
“Well, I have to come inside.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Maeve.”
Her brother gripped the seat-back. “I need to pee.”
“Your brother needs to pee. We’re coming in.”
“There’s a petrol station back there!”
“Hurry up, Max.”
“Seriously?” Maeve slammed the door and grabbed her things from the back. Carrying one bag and a box, she hurried to the front door ahead of her mum and brother. She knocked. No one answered. She knocked again. A stunning white girl with long blonde hair opened the door.
“Hi! Are you here for the party?”
“Uhm, sort of. I’m supposed to live here?”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I live here, too!” The girl threw her arms around Maeve, then pulled her inside. “I’m Eleanor but you can call me Ellie. Oliver—he lives with us, too—he thought we should have a house-warming.” Ellie dragged her to a crowded front room. Maeve could barely hear anything over the music but saw the smoky haze generated by the hookah on the floor.
“Everyone! This is Maeve! She lives here!”
A few hands rose in greeting. Someone was passed out on a crappy pastel pink sofa. Empty beer cans were stacked in front of a disconnected gas fireplace.
“Are you going to leave us out here?” Mum entered the hall, carrying more things.
“Mum, wait.”
“I need to pee!”
“Your brother needs the toilet. Where . . . oh. Hello.”
The same hands rose again, greeting her mum.
“Hi! I’m Ellie!”
“I. Need. To. Pee!” Max stomped his foot.
“Hi there, poppet.” Ellie smiled. “The working toilet’s right upstairs.”
Max took off. Her mother looked away from the cluster of drunken students.
“Maeve, I’ll start carrying up your things.”
“There’s an empty bedroom on the top floor across from mine,” said Ellie.
“Thanks.” Maeve hurried after her mum.
“Well, that girl seems nice.”
“It’s just a party, Mum.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I can see it in your eyes.”
They trudged up the second set of stairs.
“First thing tomorrow you go and get your keys from the agent.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Need to be able to get in and out of your own home.”
“I know, Mum.”
“Do they really need that music so loud? When I was in . . .”
Max chased after them, almost tripping Maeve.
“Watch it!”
“A girl by the toilet hissed at me,” he said.
“You probably deserved it.”
“Be nice to your brother. Now where is this room?”
Room 4, located on the third floor, was massive. Maeve couldn’t believe her luck. It was twice the size of her room at home and over-looked the street. She could see Mum’s car below, the boot and passenger door open. Mum clucked her tongue.
“I hope no one steals anything.”
“Who’s going to steal something? There’s no one out there.”
“It’s too dark to tell, really. Let’s get the rest of your things.”
The car was empty in ten minutes, but it took her family another twenty to leave. Her mum couldn’t stop organizing things, rearranging the minimal furniture, complaining about the noise. Despite Maeve’s insistence that it was all fine, her mother wasn’t content to leave until Maeve promised to come home next weekend.
Once she and Max were gone, Maeve stood in her room, listening to the music thumping downstairs. The room was comfortable, private, and all hers. It told her to relax, that she was free and independent now, and a bright year lay ahead, but Maeve wouldn’t listen. She decided to change clothes before going back downstairs but couldn’t find an outfit she liked. This dress was too formal. This, too casual. This she hadn’t worn in three years. Why had she even packed it? After settling on the jeans she was wearing and a top that didn’t smell of McDonald’s, she decided to freshen her makeup but couldn’t find the bag she’d packed it in, so she reapplied the toffee lip gloss she found stuffed in the bottom of her purse and examined herself in her little compact mirror.
“You can do this. You’ll be fine. They’re just like you.” She gave herself a thumbs-up.
Downstairs, Ellie patted the seat next to her.
“Maeve! Come sit over here.”
The cushions on the sofa gave as she sat, and she sank toward the floor like she was being swallowed whole. She blushed, thinking she had broken it, but then relaxed when she saw that the thin blonde had sunk to the same level. Ellie pointed to the boy on Maeve’s other side.
“Maeve, this is Oliver.”
Maeve sat up and shook his hand. Floppy hair. Deep brown eyes. He looked like Thomas Kinsey and she was over Thomas Kinsey because he was an asshole who never gave her the time of day and she swore never to be such an idiot again. She was a strong, independent young woman who didn’t need the attention of boys, so she spoke to Oliver with casual reserve, answering his questions politely with no hint of flirtation. Then she said something silly. Only a little thing about her family, but it made Oliver laugh, and it was too late. Maeve was in love.