‘Oooh, you little monkey,’ I laughed.
He gave me a tender kiss before turning to give Ben an embrace, slapping him on the back in that brotherly way guys do to each other.
‘Look after her,’ I heard Robert say quietly.
‘Of course,’ promised Ben with a nod.
It was a sweet moment between the two of them, even if they were acting as though I wasn’t there and that I was some feeble girl who needed looking after. I had no doubt I would be fine – it was the boys I was worried about, after all, their mums did practically everything for them. I had no idea how they were going to cook and clean unaided. Not that I said as much.
After the three of us joined together for one final huddle, I got into my little red Ford Ka and manically waved goodbye. We beeped our horns the whole way to the motorway, excitedly starting the journeys to our futures.
I’d picked Bristol as my top choice for university mainly because of its beautiful location and scenic views – I’d been there years before with my family and had thought of it as a magical place ever since. Although, obviously, the photography course I’d be studying sounded great too. Ever since Mum and Dad had bought me that first camera, I’d never been able to shake off my love for the art. I knew Dad would have loved me to study something more solid, like business or English – something that offered more prospects once the degree was complete and would secure me a future, but he never tried to sway me from doing the course. At eighteen, I had no idea what I planned to do with a photography degree, but I figured something would pop up somewhere along the line. Taking pictures was what I loved doing. Plus, not to blow my own trumpet, I was good at it. Now I’m not saying that I thought I was about to become the new Mario Testino, or anything like that, but I was better at doing and creating rather than forcing my mind to think about mundane tasks and sums. A doer, not a thinker, perhaps.
Bristol was just as beautiful as I’d remembered it from my childhood. The area that had stuck in my mind most vividly was Totterdown, with its multi-coloured houses sitting all pretty in the hills. In my head I’d assumed I’d be living in one of them when I went to university there, so I was mildly disappointed to learn it wasn’t a possibility. It was student halls for me. Although that didn’t stop me over the years wandering down to Totterdown and pretending it was my neighbourhood – I liked living in that little fantasy whenever I could.
The rest of Bristol itself was far from ugly with its historic-looking buildings at the heart of it; with the rivers winding their way through everything – the campus, shops and houses – it felt like you were never far from the water. Plus, there were loads of beaches a cycle ride or a drive away (depending on how adventurous you felt), where we could sunbathe over ice cream, dinky doughnuts or a bag a chips. Perfect. I knew I’d be spending most of my time inland in the busy part of the city, but it was lovely knowing that those views were only minutes away and easily accessible.
On the day I arrived there, once the cars were unpacked, my room was set up, and we’d met a few other students who were staying in the same halls, I finally managed to persuade Mum and Dad that it was okay for them to leave me in this strange place called Bristol.
As soon as I waved them off and returned to my room (after a million goodbye hugs and kisses), I found myself disturbed by the silence. It was eerie. I lay on my single bed and looked around my new home. The bland white walls were hardly warm and inviting, but I knew I could spruce it up with some photos from home Blu-tacked to them. Along one side there was a white wardrobe and a chest of drawers, which were already brimming with clothes – I’d had no idea what to pack, so decided to bring the majority of my wardrobe. Next to those was a wooden desk, on which I’d already lined up my course books as well as my new computer and camera. I was also given the gift of an en-suite – something I was truly grateful for as it would spare me the awkwardness of half-naked encounters with strangers in the hallway after showers and, perhaps more importantly, the embarrassment of having to hide the smell of my number twos when going to the loo. Yes, I knew an en-suite would make my life there much more comfortable.
I took in the new space around me and let out a sigh, suddenly feeling a bit empty – or perhaps it was boredom seeping in after such a hectic and thrilling day. It was, after all, fairly anti-climactic. I’d been so excited to get to Bristol and for university life to start, but we still had a whole thirty-eight hours to go until we walked through those university doors and officially became its students.
I picked up my phone and called Ben. His accommodation wasn’t in the same block as mine, but was luckily only a couple of minutes’ walk away.