Fully English

CHAPTER 27

I've booked an appointment with PC Yates for tomorrow morning. Even though it had been months since we last spoke, she immediately recognised the crime reference number case when her colleague relayed it to her. Apparently assault crimes on campus were few and far between so the incident with Damon was memorable.

I am in the kitchen with my flatmates, still reaping the special treatment they were ordaining me with since the last episode with Damon. None of us mention his name.

"I've made flapjacks," Prudence sings in her brittle voice. "Do you want any?"

I decline with a swish of my hand. "No I'm good."

"Oh bother, more for me then!" Prudence celebrates

She worms past me, flicks on the radio and immediately turns the dial to the gospel station as she stuffs her face. The volume dial is already on maximum so as soon as she turns it on a shrieking acapella rockets from the speakers and Wilson and I wince with shock.

"Christ," he yells.

"Don't say the Lord's name in vain!" She screams over the music, her mouth still full of caramelised oats.

I lock eyes with Hamid. "Wanna go to the café?"

Hamid's eyes shine for a few moments as he studies me teasingly. "Muslim... remember?"

I forgot he was fasting.

"My bad," I forget myself.

Hamid places both hands over his ears emphatically as Prudence belts the lyrics to Fred Hammond's No Weapon in equal ignorance of his observation of Ramadan and we walk to the corridor together. I grab my keys from the hook and we leave the premises. Once out in the open we get relief from the blare of Prudence's voice and the hymns that back it.

"We can still go to the café if you want," he offers.

"Okay."

He chuckles. "You said to Prudence you said you weren't hungry."

"I'm not, I'm thirsty." I laugh. "I want a barista's brew."

"Crikey, didn't know you were an elitist."

We laugh as we make our way to the cafe. The rain from yesterday has cleared and the sky is surprisingly bright and sunny, completely au contraire to the bleakness of my mood. I should be happy. We reach the other side of campus, trudging back onto the pavement to wonder through the network of shops that are dotted about me. Since the semester is coming to an end, you would think there'd be more people trying to get that last-minute revision in but I guess not.

Hamid walks chivalrously behind me as we draw to the door of the café entrance. I walk gratefully into the brown, wooden interior of the building feeling him lurk behind my lead until we reach the line which leads to the counter.

"What do you want?" His warm breath bruises the skin of my neck and I shrug to adjust my scarf to recover the exposed skin.

"You're paying for me?"

"Of course, think of it as a treat."

I bite my lip and go for the cheapest order. "Uh... an Espresso would be fine."

He parrots my order in addition to my known favourite – a sugary hot chocolate – and we watch the barista get to work. I jingle the coins in my pocket, mentally calculating how much I have by their sound and weight. The barista punches the cash machine and confirms the payment but Hamid is faster than me in paying for it. He slots his card into the machine and punches in his pin number.

"I said I'd pay," he reminds me petulantly.

We watch the barista rip him his receipt before hastily preparing to pour both drinks and placing a cap over both rims. I take them both before he can and skulk over to the row of stools facing the garden area at the other side of the room. He is wearing his glasses today but beyond the lenses his eyes grow inquisitive, curious but refusing to be softened, I remain hostile to his chivalry.