Read By My Side for Free Online Page B

lift passengers. You know, health and safety and all that.’
    Panic racing through me now, I reverse my chair to allow a couple into the carriage, but they stop. ‘Can I help you?’ the man suggests. He is balding with spectacles and doesn’t look as if he could lift a fly. His wife or partner is wearing a colourful sundress with espadrilles.
    ‘It’s my first time on a train,’ I tell them. ‘Not a great start.’
    ‘You take the chair,’ the man says to his wife or partner, as he lifts me into his arms. He’s surprisingly strong. ‘Health and safety my foot,’ he mutters under his breath. ‘Tony Blair has a lot to answer for.’
    *
    ‘How was your day?’ Mum asks, the moment I arrive home late that night. I sense Dad signalling to her that all is not rosy. ‘How was the journey?’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘Someone helped you?’
    I nod. ‘I’m tired, Mum. I might go to bed.’ I wheel myself into the kitchen first to get a glass of water.
    ‘But you had a good day?’ She follows me. ‘You enjoyed seeing Dom and Guy? And how was Sarah? It must have been lovely catching up.’
    ‘Yep,’ I reply, fighting the urge to cry. I think of today, how in many ways returning to London and seeing Dom and Guy was positive; yet in so many other ways I was haunted by a city where I used to live and study, party, be wild and free, independent and happy, not think twice about hopping on the tube or running to catch a bus. A home where I’d been in love.
    In my bedroom I sit, frozen, with a scalpel that I stole from Dad’s office. When Sarah and I had greeted one another, immediately it felt odd, almost as if we were going on a first date. Sarah asked me where I would like to sit, and did I need a hand with my jacket? She scurried round the table, taking away a chair to make room for me.
    I grip the scalpel.
    When we were waiting for our drinks, there was a long awkward silence, so alien to our past friendship. Sarah and I used to be geeks by day. Over cups of black coffee we’d discuss molecules and genetics, science and weird body parts. By night we were party animals at Tutu’s, the famous nightclub named after Desmond Tutu, who had studied at King’s. We loved to dance. Being with her reminded me of staggering home at three in the morning, empty bottles of vodka in our hands, only to be at hospital by nine a.m. the following day, bleary-eyed and in need of another coffee shot from the machine.
    Today, we talked about my train journey to London and the menu, both of us deliberating for ages about what to eat. Sarah asked after my parents. When I asked her to tell me about her forthcoming summer placement in Gibraltar, all she said was that it was no big deal, as long as she managed to get her certificate of attendance by the end. ‘But apart from that, Cass, nothing much is going on,’ she said, avoiding eye contact. Sarah is the happiest, most enthusiastic person I know. Sean and I would say her bounciness was great most of the time, except first thing on a Monday morning, when we could hear her singing in the shower.
    Being with her today was difficult; I felt disconnected in every way and wanted to be back with Guy and Dom, in a safe place where the three of us could laugh and feel at home with each other and the new worlds we now inhabit.
    The evening went from bad to worse when Sarah said, ‘I don’t know how to tell you this.’ She was fidgeting with the strap of her handbag. ‘Oh, Cass.’ She took a large gulp of wine. ‘It’s Sean.’
    I felt sick.
    ‘He’s met … he’s met someone else.’ Sarah refilled my wine glass. I sat silent, shocked. Of course he was going to meet someone else but it felt too soon. ‘Cass, say something. This is me you’re talking to.’
    ‘Who is she?’ I asked, numb inside.
    ‘No one you know. She’s in the year below.’
    That was something.
    ‘Listen, he’s a dickhead, and I hate the way he’s treated you. I can’t even look at him, the way he carries on as