14

Catrin

Moving into her room at New Hall had been a major drama. Mainly because, underneath it all, her parents were so devastated that their second child was leaving home, they were on edge the entire time. Tensions were running high and Catrin knew she’d have to handle the situation with kid gloves. Which wasn’t easy, considering she was nervous herself at this new world into which she’d been plunged. She hated herself for being embarrassed by her parents, but she knew they could be a liability. Her only hope was that none of her fellow hall of residence mates would witness any Kellyisms.

Between the three of them, they managed to carry Catrin’s boxes and cases into her room in one trip, which included a large tin, full of cake. ‘There’s two bara briths in there,’ Liz said, as usual turning to food to distract from emotion, ‘and your Nana Kelly made you a sultana sponge.’

‘Aw, I love sultana sponge. Thank you!’

‘Now, shall we start unpacking?’ said Liz, reaching for Catrin’s case.

‘No!’ said Catrin, reaching out to stop her mother a little too eagerly – inside that case was the now-framed photo of herself and Sol taken at the Samaria Gorge. She’d managed to keep it out of sight and away from her mother so far: the last thing she wanted was to invite unwanted questions.

It had probably been a mistake framing the photo – it only served to remind her of her heartbreak at failing to contact this most wonderful human being. Two days previously she’d written to him at Trinity College, Cambridge – a last-ditch attempt in her quest. She knew it was early days yet – term probably didn’t even start at Cambridge for at least another week, so she would just have to be patient. In the meantime, she had her parents to wrangle.

‘Tell you what I’d like to look at,’ said Huw gleefully. ‘The union!’

She couldn’t really say no, but she told them it’d have to be a flying visit. It was funny seeing this student hangout through the eyes of her parents. If she hadn’t been with them, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the grimy layer of spilt beer and ancient burger that seemed to coat every surface. All the tables and chairs had an indefinable stickiness about them, even though they were ostensibly clean. But Catrin was pleasantly surprised to see that her parents were actually in awe of the place, not disgusted by it.

‘You go find us a table and I’ll get the coffees,’ she said.

Her father immediately thrust a pound note into her hand. ‘I don’t want you paying for a thing today.’

Catrin smiled and took the money. There was no point in arguing.

Five minutes later, she was balancing three polystyrene cups on a tray. She picked up some plastic stirrers and sugar sachets and turned to head over to the table, when she noticed her father walking towards her.