Free A Hundred Pieces of Me by Lucy Dillon Page B

dumbo.’
    ‘And he really wants to see me.’ That’s the bit Gina can’t quite get her head around. That Kit wants to see her as much as she wants to see him, when he’s got the whole of Oxford University to pick from. ‘And I soooo want to see him.’
    ‘I know. It’s amazing. He’s a god. But can you please get on with it?’
    Gina’s fingers tremble as she jabs the buttons. It rings at the other end. She gives Naomi a thumbs-up, and they bounce in silent, hysterical glee.
    Then the ringing stops. ‘Hello?’
    Gina’s heart swoops and plunges around her chest at the sound of Kit’s soft, slightly posh voice. He’s right there in her head, his voice already familiar. The common room vanishes around her as her world shrinks into the darkness of her ear.
    ‘Hello,’ she croaks. ‘It’s Gina.’
    ‘Gina! Hello!’
    Next to her, Naomi rolls her eyes but still leans in.
    ‘Good news, I got four tickets,’ he says. ‘Are you still up for coming, then?’
    ‘Um, yeah. That’d be cool.’
    Naomi mouths, ‘Cool,’ and looks appalled, and Gina has to turn round to stop herself giggling.
    ‘Fantastic. My treat, by the way,’ he says, before she can ask how much the tickets were. ‘It’s going to cost you enough to get here.’
    ‘That’s not a problem.’ Gina’s dipping into her savings; she’s claiming it’s another college visit. She’d better get into Oxford after all this. Although Kit will be gone by then. Graduated, and straight into the adult world. He told her he’s already been offered finance-sector jobs, but he really wants to go travelling before he settles into a career. Already Gina hates the idea of him so far away, out of her reach.
    ‘How long can you stay?’ he asks casually. ‘I remember you said the other night that you’d never had a proper curry. I’d love to take you to this great Nepalese place we go to a lot – if you’ve got time . . .’
    Naomi taps her watch, and points to her copy of Romeo and Juliet , their A-level set text, then at the clock.
    11.35 a.m. Suddenly the time seems meaningless.
    ‘That’d be amazing,’ says Gina. ‘I’m not very good with spices, though. My mum thinks garlic’s a gateway to all sorts of trouble.’
    He laughs, a charming, inviting sound, right in her ear. The corners of her soul curl up, tingling with anticipation.
    ‘We. Are. Going. To. Be. Late,’ Naomi hisses. ‘It’s Psycho Marshall.’
    Gina sighs and reaches forward with a finger to tap Naomi’s set text. Romeo and Juliet. Then she points at herself and swoons.
    ‘I’ll say you’re having lady troubles,’ Naomi whispers, and leaves her to it.
     
     
     
    Gina’s project-management company, Stone Green, was based in a converted warehouse overlooking the Longhampton canal. She had the smallest office, just one large room full of her mood boards and two old maps of the area on the bare brick wall, but it had the best windows, stretching around two sides of the room.
    On a good day she could sit and watch the tawny ducks with their strings of ducklings weave along the bank, battling stoically against the wind. On a less than good day she could gaze down at the iron-grey water and wonder how many shopping trolleys had passed under the bridge since the last barge had cruised through in 1934.
    Whatever the weather, Gina liked staring out of the long window at the leisurely ripples of the water. When she had awkward phone calls to make to the planning department about her clients’ projects, and five different tradesmen’s diaries to mesh together, and frazzled homeowners to calm down, the canal put things in perspective: winter came and went, the ducks always returned. Something about the shapes picked out in the brickwork on the opposite bank made her feel better, too: there was no need for the ornamental work there, not on an industrial canal, but some Victorian architect had clearly thought it worth doing. When the flat grey water mirrored the pale diamonds,