Monday 29th Jan 2018
Layla wasn’t very surprised to hear from me. She probably had a pretty good handle on my situation, based on the desperate way I was scrolling through those ‘to-rent’ ads yesterday.
Note to self: Cultivate subtlety
I enquired as to whether I could view the room and she was happy to give me the address. Thankful to get out of my current hell, I went straight over.
When I arrived, everything looked just like it did in the photos (I don’t know what I was expecting). It was a normal student flat. Albeit a very clean one. Speaking of which, in the interests of starting my life with a clean slate, I decided to air out my skeletons and express the worry that had been niggling in my mind. I broached the topic with great eloquence:
“Layla, the room is great…”
She raised her eyebrows. “But?”
“But… maybe you assumed that I’m a student? I’m not. I mean, I was a student, but I’m not any more…” I ended this elegant speech by trailing off into an exquisitely awkward silence.
Her expression relaxed into a smile. “That’s ok, I’m not studying either. I’m self-employed. It won’t be an issue about the council tax if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh.” That was unexpected. “Cool.” It made sense to think of Layla as a working girl (mind out of the gutter, Dear Diary!). She has more poise and confidence than most of my contemporaries, which surely comes as a consequence of earning one’s way through the world. As opposed to slowly burying oneself under a pile of student debt.
Question: If my student record was deleted, has my student maintenance loan also disappeared?
Strategy 1: Call student loans company to ask, thus risking repayment demands,
Strategy 2: Assume that my debts have disappeared and go on blithely with life. In case of repayment demands, point to lack of student record.
Strategy 3: Dither and speculate without actually doing anything. (Preferred strategy)
“So do you want to take the room?” asked Layla. “And if so, when do you want to move in?”
I couldn’t see any reason to forego this opportunity for freedom and uninterrupted sleep. “Layla, I’d love to take the room. With regards to moving in… would today be too soon?” I really, really never wanted to have to sleep on Shane’s couch again.
“If you can pay the deposit first it’s no problem at all.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” I could use the last of my aforementioned student debt, thus erasing it from my life forever (possibly).
Layla’s face broke into a beautiful smile. “Awesome! Welcome to the flat. My other flatmate, Tessa, isn’t here at the moment but I’ll introduce you later. She’s a tiny bit obsessive about keeping things clean but otherwise she’s lovely.”
“That’s ok.” After a few days’ sojourn in Shane’s man-crib, obsessive cleanliness would be a welcome change. “As long as she doesn’t walk through my room in the middle of the night and wake me up, I’m sure we’ll get along great.”
Layla laughed at what she thought was a joke. “No, to be honest she doesn’t get out much. She’s very dedicated to her physics PhD. Now, do you need any help bringing your stuff here? Dylan - my boyfriend - is coming over later. We could pick you up in his car.”
“Oh my god, that would be wonderful!” I take back what I said about Destiny. Destiny is a fabulous diva who trips you up, only to catch you in her benevolent embrace further down the line.
Layla and I made arrangements to meet at the storage room on campus where my stuff was being held. I left the flat glorying in the thought of having all my possessions back in one place. After nipping to a cashpoint to draw out the deposit, I stopped at Shane’s to collect my stuff and inform him of my new residence. He seemed relieved to hear that I wouldn’t be gracing his couch any longer. Honestly, so was I. Sharing personal space would be enough to test any friendship, even without the added factor of him having found a new girlfriend on the very night I got kicked out. I wished him all the best for the future with Jade and his face acquired its customary bashful look. He then proceeded to talk about her for twenty minutes straight until I said I had to leave. I’m sure they’ll seem like an adorable couple as soon as I don’t have to experience it from such close quarters.
After that, I went to the students’ union to check whether the key I received from the admin office was the right one. Yes indeed! It opened the door to the storage cupboard and all my things seemed to be present and correct. A quick glance over reassured me that we’d be able to transport it all in a single car-load. There are advantages to having been an orphan. Fewer pesky belongings slowing you down and all that.
Then I had nothing much else to do except sit here among my gathered possessions and wait for Layla and Dylan to arrive. I’ve been planning where to put everything in my new room and resolutely ignoring the nagging voice telling me I should be thinking about finding a job. It’s true that I don’t have much left to live on and I certainly don’t want to get kicked out of yet another accommodation.
But still, Dear Diary, I think you’ve been with me long enough to understand how the mystery of my expulsion and missing student record bothers me. More than that, it gnaws at me. It’s an unbearable itch and I can’t see myself settling quietly down to work at Boots or Tesco’s until I’ve solved the puzzle. Or at least until I’ve followed all avenues of investigation. And right now there’s still a man with an infuriating smirk on the loose, who needs to be found and interrogated. A large part of me is looking forward to it.
A red Volvo pulled up outside and tooted its horn and I saw Layla waving from the passenger seat. Dylan turned out to be a silent, black-haired musician-type covered in tattoos. I was struck by their contrasting duet of light and dark, bubbly and brooding. He was the perfect earthly counterpoint to her unearthly evanescence.
It seemed a shame to subject this poetic couple to such a mundane task but still, there you go. All those boxes of shit weren’t going to move themselves. We filled the car and found that there was no space left over for passengers. So Dylan drove them to the apartment while Layla and I awaited his return. While he was gone, I took the opportunity to get to know my new flatmate better. Or rather, my new landlady I should say, for I learned that in addition to being beautiful and poised, Layla owns the flat we’re living in. I assumed she was merely the head tenant, but no. She had help from an inheritance but the rest she earned through her business as an event photographer. She explained how she specialises in “narrative documentation”. And if you’re wondering what that is, rest assured, Dear Diary, so did I. Apparently it means she can take her camera along to any boring workshop and take photographs that later portray it as the most exciting, drama-filled day ever. She showed me some of the images from a yoga course she’d covered. I could almost smell the tranquillity.
Dylan returned in due course and drove us back to the flat. Once we arrived, Layla showed me all the usual new-flat stuff such as the wifi router and the trick for starting the shower. Then she blew my mind by asking whether my boyfriend would be visiting soon. I responded to the effect that I had no such thing, which caused her to grin and ask then who the guy was she’d seen smiling at me as we walked through the union building. I hadn’t even noticed him but from her description it seems Smirk Guy had struck again!
Dammit, I was so close to my priority number one and I didn’t even know it! Not only did that infuriating creature turn up and gloat at me in a public place again, he also ruined a perfectly good unpacking session because now I can’t stop grinding my teeth in frustration. I can’t believe he was there and I didn’t see him.
Note to self: Develop Smirk radar
