Free An Autumn Affair by Alice Ross Page B

up and pass me those crisps.’
    Julia soon settled into life in York. She loved her course and made an effort to join in some of the social activities. But Max was never far from her mind and, without him there, she never felt whole. They saw one another once a fortnight, each taking turns to visit the other, with Julia crossing off the days in-between. She loved it when Max came to York; loved snuggling up in her room, watching TV, content just to be with him.
    Cambridge though, was a different matter altogether. Max seemed desperate for her to fit in with his crowd of new friends, but Julia couldn’t shake the feeling they looked down their noses at her.
    ‘They’re a bit snobby here, aren’t they?’ she remarked to Max the first time she visited.
    ‘They’re not that bad,’ he batted back. ‘They’re actually all right once you get to know them.’
    But Julia didn’t want to get to know them. And they made it perfectly clear they didn’t want to get to know her.
    Then, twice in the Easter term, when Max was supposed to visit her in York, he called off.
    ‘Snowed under with work, Ju. You don’t mind, do you?’
    ‘Of course not,’ she replied.
    But Julia did mind. Very much. The rot, she convinced herself, had set in.
    She made herself ill stewing on it. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, lost all interest in her course, and couldn’t be bothered socialising.
    ‘Are you okay?’ Max asked concernedly when they spoke on the phone.
    ‘Fine. Honestly,’ she lied. Because she didn’t want to have the conversation on the phone. She wanted – and needed – to speak to him face-to-face.
    So, when she could stand it no longer, on a weekend when they’d no plans to see each other, she impulsively jumped on a train to Cambridge. She knew Max had a rugby match that weekend, so she headed straight for the pub where the players usually ended up after a game. And there he was. A long streak of mud on his left cheek, his hair sticking up all over the place, looking completely adorable. Surrounded by his team-mates, the group interspersed with several coltish blonde girls, Julia observed them for a while as they laughed and joked and handed round drinks. Max looked so happy. So content. So completely at ease. This was where he belonged. With all these beautiful, clever people in Cambridge. Not cooped up watching TV with her. She’d bet he couldn’t wait to get back down here after a weekend in York. No wonder he’d cried off the last couple of times. She’d never felt good enough for him. Never quite believed, even after all this time, that she’d been the one he really wanted. Now, though, not only did she feel completely out of his league, but also that their relationship must be stifling him, holding him back.
    Julia slipped out of the pub unseen, and sought out a relatively quiet café. Cradling a cup of coffee, she sat in the corner deliberating over what to do. If this was the beginning of the end of their relationship, then she’d rather make a clean break of it. Get it over with in one fell swoop rather than dragging it out, wondering each time Max was due to visit if he would cry off again. Wondering if, all the time he was with her, he was wishing he was back in Cambridge. She sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, her gaze landing on a middle-aged, grey-haired couple at the other side of the room. They both had a pot of tea and a scone in front of them, and in-between drinking and nibbling, neither of them said a word. A depressing thought hit Julia with all the force of an atomic bomb. Would that be her and Max in a few years’ time? Or were they already like that – an old married couple well before their time? After all, in sixth form they’d pretty much always been on their own. Were they missing out on their youth? Would they look back in years to come and regret not making more of what should have been the best years of their lives? Had Max already realised that, which was why