Cold Comfort

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Cold Comfort Page 9

by Isobel Hart


  “Well, he can’t keep me. I’m not his to keep.”

  “He’ll find a way… he can be very persuasive. I don’t want that for you, honey. You have to leave… get away from this place. Get out of their sphere of influence. Follow your dream, Delilah. You wanted to study music, and you should do that… but not at Cambridge like you planned. You’d be too easy to find there. They know too many people, and they’d suck you back in. Go further away. I made a call to my sister in Brighton.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “Yes. She’s not too proud of what her little sister does for a living, so she doesn’t want anything to do with me, but she’ll put it to one side if I ask her to for you. Go there. I’ll write the address down. I’ve already spoken to Sussex University. They have a BA in Music, and with your grades they said they’d be happy to offer you a place. I know it’s not what you planned,” she said, her head in her hands, “but it’s all I can do. I can’t see you follow my path, and that’s what he’ll want you to do.” I didn’t know if she meant Hardy or the elder Mr Somerville. Either way, I felt sick.

  “Brighton?” I whispered. It sounded a long way away. All I knew was it was near the sea. “Won’t you come with me?”

  “I can’t,” she replied. “I still owe him for the debts I’d built up. He paid them off for me when we came here. I thought I’d be able to pay him back sooner, but life is expensive. Music lessons are expensive. I’ve got some money saved… your first year of tuition fees. I want you to have it. We’ll deal with the rest when the time comes. I’ll work to pay off my debts, and after that I’ll come to you… I promise.”

  “I’ll work hard. I’ll earn money and help you pay it off sooner.” I’d never been so determined to make something of my life.

  “I know you will, honey. You’re special, which is why we can’t let them have you. They’d destroy that. Now, come on. We need to pack.”

  Present day

  I peered at the large white regency building in front of me, guitar in one hand and suitcase in the other, my handbag slung across my chest. The building seemed to be divided into numerous flats, so it took me several attempts to locate the correct bell. After a couple of minutes a shrill ‘yes’ barked out of the intercom.

  “It’s Delilah,” I told the voice. There was an audible huff and then the sound of the buzzer unlocking the door. “Top floor,” was all the voice said before the line went dead.

  Chapter 9

  3 months later

  I pushed open the door to Student Services and groaned. Miserable Martha was sitting behind the desk. She was by far my least favourite assistant. I’d been calling into the office daily for the last three months trying to find some sort of accommodation that would mean I could finally move out of Aunt Sarah’s. The problem was I couldn’t afford anything more than a room in halls, and that was only because they were subsidised. Unfortunately they’d all been allocated before I’d emerged from my fog of misery sufficiently to realise I needed to sort my life out.

  When I’d arrived it was all I could do to get myself to college to register for my course. Otherwise I’d had a kind of meltdown. I’d veered between depression at leaving everything and everyone I knew, speaking only to Ma on our nightly calls, and paranoia that someone would come after me. Several times I could have sworn I was being followed or felt like someone was watching me. It was strange, I reflected, that I missed home when in reality I’d had no real friends there. Emily had been the closest thing to it, which said a lot. I guessed it was the familiarity I missed, rather than the place or the people. Then, of course, there’d been my feelings about Hardy to deal with. Or not. It hurt too much to think about his betrayal, so I didn’t. I just locked it away. For days he’d tried to call me, calling incessantly all day and all night and texting in between until I’d changed my phone. I’d read and listened to none of his messages, deciding it was better to make a clean break from the toxic world he inhabited.

  To add to my misery, Aunt Sarah’s was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Not least because she only had a sofa bed that was lumpy as hell. It was situated in her lounge, which meant I needed to be up and out the house before she left for work because she didn’t trust me to be left home alone, and unfortunately she worked long hours in an office in town. I tended to spend most of my days walking round campus or sitting in the library or canteen when I wasn’t in classes or the practice rooms.

  My course was my only saving grace. It was everything I’d hoped it might be. I’d immersed myself in the vast library of scores, CDs and DVDs on a daily basis, and I loved the historical and contextual musical component classes almost as much as I loved the composition. Mama said I sounded like a ‘pig in mud’ when I talked to her about it. College was the only time I felt anything near happy.

  I walked towards the desk while Martha carried on pecking away at her keyboard, studiously ignoring my presence until I was standing right beside her. “Morning, Martha,” I began. We were all on first-name terms by this stage. She didn’t even look up. I tried again, a little louder this time. “Morning, Martha. I wondered if any rooms had become available.”

  “Not since yesterday,” she said, still not looking up. I’d been told my only hope would be if someone found themselves a room in a shared house or left the university. I’d taken to praying homesickness would become too much for one of the other first-years and they would leave, giving me the chance of a room. Then I felt bad about wishing unhappiness on someone. Either way, so far I’d had no luck. All the other first-years seemed to be wholly embracing student life. I’d overheard excited chatter from some of the other girls about bars and club nights as they’d exchanged coy glances with guys in the canteen, while I’d sat on my own. A part but apart. Sure, some people had tried to talk to me, mostly guys, but I knew what they were after. The other girls just scowled at me. I’d hoped things might change now I was at university, but it seemed I was destined to remain on a path of lonely isolation. Plus the longer it went on, the less able I felt to break out of it.

  “You really need to think about finding a private rental, dear. I think it’s very unlikely something will become available now if it hasn’t already,” Martha said as the door to the office opened behind me. She finally looked up.

  “I can’t afford the private rental prices at the moment,” I explained. We had this conversation on a weekly basis.

  “Can’t you take out a loan?”

  “I already have. Even with that I’ll struggle to pay rent and eat.”

  “What about a job?”

  “I’m looking.”

  “Well, that’s good, dear. I’m sure you’ll find something soon.” I knew that was my cue to leave. We’d now exhausted our conversational capabilities, and she was back to pecking at her keyboard. I turned, trying not to let the tears that were burning my eyes spill over, and bumped into a guy who was standing behind me.

  “Sorry,” I said on reflex and moved past him, heading for the door.

  “Hold up,” he said, slipping the card he’d been holding into his pocket. I paused with my hand on the doorknob and looked at him properly. He was familiar… I’d seen him on my course, and frankly he was hard to miss. He had glasses with thick lenses, the kind that magnified the person’s eyes and made them look huge, and he was thin. Thinner than me, and tall with it. I paused, wondering what he wanted. “I heard you say you’re looking for a room,” he said, sounding nervous.

  “Yeah,” I said slowly.

  “Well, I have a room.”

  “Good for you,” I said, irritated now. I pulled the door open and walked out fast.

  “No,” he said, trying to run after me, despite his poor eyesight. “I mean, you don’t understand. What I wanted to say was I have a room you can rent,” he called after me.

  I paused midway down the corridor and looked back at him. “Thank you, but I can’t afford private rental prices.”

  “I only want £100 a week.” It was the same as the halls pr
ices – at the top of my budget – but if I was careful, and found a part-time job to fit round my studies, then I’d be able to afford it. I felt a glimmer of hope, and then slammed it back down as I prepared myself for some sort of catch. “Really, no catch,” he said, seeming to read my mind. “Look, why don’t we get a coffee and I can tell you about it. Then you can decide if you want to look at it or not.” I nodded. I needed to get away from Aunt Sarah and her disapproving stares. At this stage I’d consider anything. “I’m Eddy,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

  “Delilah,” I replied.

  We walked in silence towards one of the small cafes on site. He seemed to be almost as socially awkward as me, and I took some comfort in that. When he failed to see a step down and stumbled, I immediately put a hand out to stabilise him. “Thanks,” he said, looking embarrassed.

  “No problem,” I assured him. We found a table and ordered our coffee, then he started to explain.

  “I’ve got a two-bedroom flat in town. It’s nice, not far from the station, so easy enough to get in to College, but central enough to be able to enjoy Brighton.”

  “It sounds great,” I said. It did. Too good.

  “The room’s not huge, but big enough for a double bed and wardrobe. We’d have to share a bathroom.”

  “I don’t mind sharing.”

  “Where are you at the moment?”

  “With my aunt, on the seafront.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Locationally yes, but she’s not my biggest fan. She’s just putting up with me because we’re related and she feels obliged. I’m meant to have found somewhere else before now, but it’s not been that easy. I didn’t get myself organised in time to get a place in halls, and I can’t afford most of the private rent prices. Why’s yours so cheap?” I asked, suspicious now.

  He shifted, looking embarrassed. “It’s my flat. I own it outright.”

  “No mortgage?” I asked, amazed. He nodded. “Wow. How’d you manage that? Are your parents loaded or something?”

  “Something like that.” He shifted nervously again. “So anyway, I don’t need to have anyone rent the room out if I don’t want to.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Yeah, but a bit lonely.” I looked at him then and found a kindred spirit looking back at me. We were two socially dysfunctional souls. Both lonely and in need of a friend. Something told me I could trust him. I took a long drink from my latte.

  “We’re on the same course, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, that’s what made me stop you. I’ve seen you in lectures.”

  I paused and looked at him again, his big eyes blinking back at me, and made a decision. “I’d like to see it, if you’re still okay with the idea.” He smiled, and it transformed him.

  *

  The apartment was in an amazing location. Situated in the fashionable North Laines, it had easy access to the station but was also smack bang in the heart of the coolest shopping area, in a town already known for being cool. Plus the beach was only half a mile away. The apartment itself blew me away. Newly built and well appointed, it had a massive open-plan lounge and kitchen, furnished with all the latest mod cons. When he finally showed me what would be my room, and it was twice the size I’d imagined from his description, I knew something was seriously up.

  I turned to look at him. “How much were you planning to ask for this room?” He flushed. “The card I saw you pocket in Student Services. That was an advert for this place, wasn’t it?” Reluctantly he nodded. “Show me.”

  Slowly he pulled the card from where he had hidden it and handed it over. The description and location were accurate, but the price was nearly triple what he’d told me. “You lied about the price of the room,” I said. He blushed again. “Why?”

  “Because I knew you couldn’t afford it.”

  “So why even speak to me? I can’t pay this much. I can barely pay the £100 we discussed.”

  “I told you, I’m not doing it for the money.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  “Company.” My mind ran to images of what he might mean by ‘company’. Thoughts of the Somervilles filled my mind, and for a moment I thought I might vomit all over the beautiful carpet.

  “I’m not that kind of girl,” I whispered, backing away from him towards the door.

  “Jesus, no,” he said, “I didn’t mean company like that. I meant company as in friendship. I’m not interested in you like that. I’m gay, for god’s sake. Being gay and looking like this doesn’t make it easy to find friends,” he said, pointing at his face, and I saw pain flash through his eyes. My heart melted a little.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “Look, Delilah, you’re a beautiful girl. I can only imagine what sort of attention you get from guys on a daily basis. I’m not like them.”

  “I believe you,” I said, and he looked relieved.

  “Seriously, I just want a flatmate. Someone to hang out with. You seemed like you needed a friend too. I’ve never seen you hanging out with anyone. It was coincidence I saw you today, but I believe we were meant to find each other. You need a flat, I need a flatmate, and we could both do with a few more friends. What do you say?”

  I thought about it for a nanosecond, but really he was right. I’d be mad to turn this down, and from what I’d seen so far I liked him. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to rent the room.”

  He grinned. “This calls for a celebration I think,” he said, moving to his fridge to find a couple of beers. He levered both the caps off and handed me one of the bottles. I took a swig and grimaced. He laughed. “Not a beer drinker?”

  “Not any sort of drinker, really,” I admitted.

  “Okay, well, you’re a student now. I think we’ll have to work on your palate just a little if you want to fit in.” I grinned this time. “So how quickly can you get your stuff?” he asked.

  “How quickly can I move in? I’ve been living out a suitcase for the last four months. My aunt can’t wait to see the back of me, so I can move as soon as you’ll have me. Do you need me to sign a tenancy agreement? What deposit do you want?”

  “Let’s say a month up front. I’ll get a contract, but we’ll sort it out later. I’m happy for you to move in today. That way I can copy your latest assignment.” I laughed out loud this time.

  “You think I’m kidding?” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you acing every assignment we’ve had so far. I can’t wait to steal your best ideas.”

  “I’ve had nothing to do but study since I’ve been here. Are you telling me all this has been a deliberate ploy to copy my work?” He looked worried for a second, as if he really thought I might believe he’d done that, but then I laughed again and he relaxed. “My aunt will be back from work at half five. I can collect my stuff then, if that’s okay?”

  “Perfect,” he said with a smile. “In the meantime let’s go and get some stuff in so we can have a celebratory meal tonight.”

  I was the happiest I’d been in months as we weaved our way around the nearby supermarket, pointing out our favourite foods. When he tripped on a shopping basket someone had left on the ground beside the shelves and nearly landed on the floor, I felt his mood dip. His sight was worse than he let on. “I have what is referred to as progressive cone dystrophy. It basically means I can’t see very well,” he told me when I finally asked.

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I deadpanned. He elbowed me in the side. “When did you find out?” I asked more seriously.

  “When I was about ten. It’s no big deal. It could be worse, and at least I can still play. I just drive my teachers mad because I tend to play by ear rather than actually read the music. I have a great memory – once I’ve heard something the first time, I can pretty much play it back. It means that even if I do completely lose my sight one day I’ll still be able to play.”

  “That’s amazing.” I admired him for making the best of his situation.
“You play the violin, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and a bit of piano, but not as well as you from what I’ve heard.”

  “You don’t have any other help?”

  “No, my family have always helped me, especially my brother. Otherwise I’ve tried to manage. I do quite fancy a dog one day, though. I’ve always thought that would be kind of cool.”

  “Well, can I at least offer you my arm?” I asked. “That way I can shout if you’re about to walk in front of a car, and avoid you killing yourself.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” He looked surprised by my offer.

  “Why would I mind?” I asked, genuinely bemused. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “I’m hardly the sort of guy a woman like you would want to be seen with.” I stopped and looked at him, surprised myself this time. “I can see enough to know you’re stunning. I’m hardly going to do your street cred much good.”

  “You’ll have noticed I have exactly zero friends. That makes you a rarity in my life. Believe me, I’m being entirely selfish by not letting you kill yourself. I can’t let my only friend get hit by a bus.”

  “I suppose not,” he said with a grin. And when I offered him my elbow he grasped it gratefully.

  Chapter 10

  Eddy and I quickly settled into an oddly domesticated routine. The fact we had most of our classes together meant we were able to travel in and out of the university at the same time. We quickly became a fixture around the campus; I’d become accustomed to always offering him my arm whenever we were together, and nine times out of ten he’d take it. The odd time he didn’t was always because he’d caught sight of some guy he liked the look of; for someone who was partially sighted, he had one hell of a well-developed gaydar. I knew to everyone else we looked a bit of an odd couple, but I couldn’t have cared less. Eddy was a sweet, kind, considerate guy, and I thanked my lucky stars every day that I’d run into him that day in Student Services.

 

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