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university, she had visited Glasgow University
with her school and had been in awe of the main building and surrounding area
of the campus in the west end of the city. She had understood then that
universities comprised of many buildings sometimes spanned out over large
areas, such as she had found in Glasgow but she had struggled to get her head
around Oxford. The University of Oxford, as far as Lizzie could tell, was
Oxford itself, like the city was a living, breathing institute of learning.
Countless colleges, which somehow existed in their own right, also made up the
university as a whole. To Lizzie it was like a dismembered body, each
unattached limb and organ still performing its function independently but
somehow held together and coordinated as part of a larger entity.
    Janice had
suggested a few different restaurants and fast food outlets but Lizzie had
asked if they could eat outside as, after all, it had been a lovely day. They bought
sandwiches, crisps and drinks and Janice had followed Lizzie as she searched
for a place to sit and eat. Lizzie had found a little bench within the grounds
of Jesus College. She had been unsure whether it was permitted for non-students
to make use of it, but it was wonderful to sit and watch the students come and
go. Some lazily walking in the sunshine other scurrying off to some lecture they
were late for. They had sat in silence indulging in Lizzie’s favourite pastime
– people watching. How people interacted with one another, and how they went
about their business, wrapped up in their own little worlds fascinated her and
from this bench she could watch, as if invisible, the students of Oxford
University live their strange, privileged, wonderful lives.
    Lizzie still had no
idea whether it was okay for her to sit on this, her bench as she considered
it, but by now she refused to feel uncomfortable even if it had turned out she
was somewhere she shouldn’t be. The magic of Oxford had not diminished for her.
Each time Lizzie came back to Jesus College to sit at her bench, listen to
music and thumb through a novel it took her back to that first time, to her
adventure with her aunt Janice, before it had all fallen apart.
    That first time
Janice had met her from the train she had been full of smiles and laughter. The
last time she had collected Lizzie from the platform however she had managed to
hold it together for all of five seconds before wrapping her arms around her
and sobbing her heart out. Lizzie’s own resolve collapsed even though she would
have sworn blind that she had completely cried herself out that she was, by
then, numb to it all.
    Lizzie’s mother’s
death had not been unexpected, she had been sick for some time, and really sick
for the last twelve months, however when the inevitable happened it had still
come as an earth shattering shock.
    The illness took her
mum from her but also, strangely, it had brought her back to Lizzie. She had
been twelve when her mother had met her stepfather. Lizzie had never met her
own father and knew very little of him other than that he had left before
Lizzie had been able to form any memory of him. It had been a prickly subject
and Lizzie had learned to leave it alone. Besides, she didn’t know enough of
him to miss him. When her stepfather had moved into the house she had resented
him from the start. He wasn’t cruel to her mother but nor did he seem to make
her happy or make her life, in any noticeable way, easier. Lizzie saw him as a
leech draining her mother’s attention and time. Her stepfather had held a few
jobs, briefly, but nothing of any note. He had attempted several times to act
like a father to Lizzie and each time it had resulted in a vicious argument
which had upset Lizzie’s mother most out of the three of them. Lizzie’s
relationship with her mum had deteriorated as a direct result of him, they
rarely conversed anymore, and when they did talk it was almost always with
raised voices. Lizzie had taken to spending