You know when you just know? I just knew. Easy to say so now, knowing what happened later, but I really did know. I felt it in my bones. This happens to me sometimes – I’m quite perceptive. Maybe it was because she said it was for two people, and there was no one with her, or maybe it was that she kept repeating the number two (two weeks two people two weeks two people two weeks two people). And so I said, in a professional tone, that yes, there were some rooms still available in Rome, although not many, not many at all, better book sooner rather than later as they were going fast, and guess what, she was very lucky (I winked at her) to have yours truly as a travel guide.

Which I didn’t know for sure. I hadn’t been assigned a location yet. But when I saw her chipmunk face light up I sure as hell knew I’d square up to Mrs Hewlett if she tried to stop me from going. I’d fucking kill her to go. And: all roads lead to Rome. And: veni vidi vici. That made me laugh. I was so witty.

‘Who are you sharing your room with, a friend or your partner?’ I asked, which wasn’t strictly necessary and actually quite inappropriate, but the girl didn’t know that. I asked because I was allowed to: I could do anything then, I was in charge. It was my fucking office!

‘A friend,’ she said, and I knew, I just knew, I was sure of it.

And I was right because the next Monday my girl is sat at my desk filling in the relevant forms as her friend Alanna chews my fucking ear off about how her friend Tammy or Franny, whatever, had been to Rome before and took a photo with the centurions in front of the Colosseum and my heart is stuck right in my throat because all I want to do is to look at her, finally, watch my girl, up close, all the little things about her finally in perfect focus – her hands and her eyelashes and the pores on her nose – but instead I focus on projecting my best reliable smile because I didn’t want to spoil it and I watch as my girl is quiet and her hands shake slightly as she writes out her name on the dotted line all in capital letters:

R-U-T-H-B-E-A-D-L-E

I sign my name on the line right below.

DEO

Fourteen Years Earlier

says:

beadle?

says:

who’s beadle?

says:

ruth beadle

says:

which ruth is this?

says:

there’s like 3 ruths in our year

says:

do u kno who she is trace?

says:

the skinny one with the eyes

says:

the eyes?

says:

i don’t really know her

says:

ya

says:

u know who i mean alanna?

says:

fck I dont think I do

says:

yea man her eyes are fucking creepy