Chapter 1
By the time I reached the accommodation office, one wheel had come off my suitcase and I had been given a brother.
I knew about the wheel. The brother was news.
“Hale, June.” The woman behind the desk ran a finger down her list. “East House. Room five.”
“There’s been a mistake. My email says West Court.”
“Third floor?”
“Yes.”
“A pipe burst yesterday. That floor’s closed.”
She said it with the exhaustion of someone who had spent the morning being personally blamed for the plumbing. Behind me, the queue stretched through the open door. A girl sat on her suitcase outside, eating crisps and crying into her phone.
The woman slid a form towards me.
My name was right. So was my student number. Beneath them, someone had typed:
TEMPORARY FAMILY PLACEMENT
SIBLING OF JULIAN HALE
“I’m not his sister.”
Her finger stopped.
“Sorry?”
“Julian Hale. I don’t know him.”
She took the form back and turned to her computer. I waited while she clicked through several screens.
“Your relocation request has been attached to his household record.”
“Because we have the same surname?”
“Possibly.” She clicked again, harder this time. “It shouldn’t have been.”
That was reassuring. I preferred my administrative disasters to be officially recognised.
“Can you change it?”
“I can flag the error. East House is a restricted residence, though. The room was released under a family allocation, so changing the category requires approval from the accommodation manager.”
“All right. Can I speak to them?”
“She’s in West Court with the contractors.”
The boy behind me shifted his cello case to his other shoulder. I moved my broken suitcase closer to the desk.
“What am I supposed to do until she comes back?”
“You can take the room provisionally, if the residents are happy with that. I’ll send the correction through. Or I can put you in the temporary accommodation in the sports hall.”
“How temporary?”
“We’re waiting for an assessment.”
“So, you don’t know.”
“No,” she said, looking at me properly for the first time. “I don’t.”
I glanced through the window. Beyond the lawn stood Harrowgate’s chapel, all pale stone and stained glass. At nineteen, I had chosen the college for its history degree and pictured myself studying in one of those old buildings. The prospectus had said considerably less about sleeping in a sports hall.
“Does the room in East House lock?”
“Yes. Here’s the key. You’re not committing to stay for the term, Miss Hale. This is somewhere to put your bags while we sort it out.”
She wrote “relationship disputed—review requested” on her copy of the form and initialled it. When I asked her to write the same thing on mine, she did.
I took the key.
Outside, I photographed the form before putting it in my bag. Then I sent Bea a message.
Arrived. Accommodation’s a mess. Will call later.
Her reply came before I had hauled the suitcase off the path.
How much of a mess?
I looked at the words sibling of Julian Hale.
Still finding out.
***
East House stood behind the chapel, far enough from the main accommodation blocks to have its own gravel path and a small, untidy garden. Someone had left a bicycle against the wall beneath a sign asking residents not to leave bicycles against the wall.
I knocked.
The boy who opened the door had neatly combed dark hair and a tea towel over one shoulder. He glanced at my case.
“June?”
“Yes.”
“Come in. I’m Noah.”
He stepped aside, then bent to take the suitcase.
“One wheel’s broken,” I warned him.
“I noticed.”
He carried it over the threshold without dragging it, which immediately put him ahead of everyone who had offered to help me since the station.
The hall smelled of coffee and toast. Coats hung from hooks beside a chalkboard, and five names had been written beneath the heading RESIDENTS.
Julian Hale. Noah Whitlock. Caspian Voss. Rook Evander.
And, at the bottom, in fresh white chalk:
June Hale—room 5—Julian’s sister.
I stared at it.
Noah followed my gaze.
“They sent someone over this morning to make up the bed. She added you.”
“I’m not his sister.”
“Oh.”
He looked from me to the board, clearly hoping one of us would explain.
“I did tell the office.”
“Right. Well.” He put the suitcase down. “Would you like some tea while we work out whose sister you are?”
“Nobody’s.”
“Even easier.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
A voice came from upstairs.
“Has she arrived?”
A boy appeared on the landing with his phone in his hand. I recognised him before he reached the bottom step. He had been in the prospectus: beside a lectern, shaking someone’s hand, standing by the river in a rowing jacket.
Julian Hale looked slightly less pleased with life in person.
“You’re June?”
I held out the form.
“Apparently, we’re related.”
He read it. Then he read the handwritten note underneath.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
It was the first encouraging thing anyone had said to me all day.
“You knew there was someone coming?” I asked.
“They emailed to say a Hale family placement had been approved. I thought my father had arranged something without telling me.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Enough that I didn’t ask immediately.”
Noah took the tea towel off his shoulder.
“So she’s not—”
“No,” Julian and I said together.
A third boy appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a jar of peanut butter.
“That’s disappointing. I was looking forward to childhood stories.”
He was barefoot, with his shirt hanging open over a T-shirt and dark hair still damp from a shower. He looked at me with open curiosity.
“Caspian Voss.”
“June. No childhood stories.”
“We’ll manage.”
Julian handed back my form.
“The room’s empty. You can use it tonight.”
“What about the family allocation?”
“My father pays to keep the spare room available for visiting family. Nobody ever uses it.” He glanced at the note again. “Housing can argue about the category tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to unpack and then be told to leave in an hour.”
“You won’t be.”
“You can promise that?”
“For tonight, yes.”
He said it without the vague reassurance people usually offered when they wanted me to stop asking questions.
I nodded.
Noah picked up my suitcase again.
“First floor?”
“I can take it.”
“I’ve already got it.”
I followed him up the stairs, holding the useless wheel I had forgotten was still in my hand.
***
Room five had clearly been a study until very recently. The desk was too big, the bed was too narrow, and a pale rectangle on the wall showed where someone had removed a picture.
Still, there was a wardrobe, a window and a door with a working lock.
After the morning I’d had, I was prepared to be grateful.
Noah set the suitcase beside the bed.
“Clean sheets. I checked.”
“Should I be worried that you needed to?”
“Caspian was asked to do it.”
From downstairs came an offended shout.
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to.”
Noah turned back to me.
“We usually eat around seven. Nothing formal. Come down if you want.”
“Thanks.”
He waited a moment, perhaps expecting a firmer answer, then nodded and left.
I shut the door and tested the lock.
Only then did I sit.
My hands were trembling a little. I pressed them between my knees and waited for it to stop. I had spent the train journey imagining arriving, finding my room, putting my books on a shelf. Small, manageable things. None of those plans had included explaining to four strangers that I hadn’t invented a brother to get into their house.
My phone vibrated.
Mum.
Are you settled? Send a picture when you can.
I took one of the window and the corner of the desk. The room looked quite nice if I kept the suitcase out of it.
Got a room. Unpacking now.
She sent a heart. I put the phone down before she could ask anything else.
There was a glass on the windowsill with dust gathered in the bottom. I moved it to the desk and began unpacking my books. The paperbacks had bent in my bag. I smoothed the covers, stacked them beside the lamp and felt a little less like I might have to leave again.
A knock interrupted me.
Before I could answer, a boy spoke through the door.
“Are you using the bathroom?”
I opened it.
He stood a step back from the threshold, holding a book with one finger between the pages. His dark hair was untidy, and the sleeves of his jumper were pushed to his elbows. There was a thin, pale scar near the base of his thumb.
“No.”
“Good. Noah said you’d arrived.”
“He was right.”
His eyes flicked to the suitcase behind me.
“You’re in five, then.”
“That seems to be the arrangement.”
“I’m Rook.”
“June.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do.”
He glanced at the key in my hand, then down the corridor.
“Bathroom’s two doors along. The lock sticks. Pull the handle up before you turn it, or it looks locked when it isn’t.”
That was useful enough to make me regret my tone. Slightly.
“Thanks.”
“I’m usually in there before eight.”
“For how long?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“You said before eight. That could mean ten minutes. It could mean an hour.”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Then I’ll try to survive without it for twenty minutes.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“Or knock.”
“I’ll bear it in mind.”
He started to turn away, then stopped.
“The mug on the end hook downstairs is cracked. Don’t use it.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
He went into the bathroom and shut the door.
I stood there for another second, annoyed without being entirely sure why. He hadn’t been particularly rude. He had, in fact, told me two things I needed to know.
It was probably the way he had looked at the room before looking at me, as though he was still deciding whether he minded that someone had moved into it.
I closed my door and went back to the books.
***
At half past six, Julian knocked.
I had changed my shirt and eaten a bread roll from my bag. It had been flattened somewhere between the train and the accommodation office, but I wasn’t ready to go downstairs and ask strangers where they kept the butter.
“Have you got a minute?” he asked.
I let him in. He stayed near the door.
“I spoke to Housing.”
“And?”
“The manager won’t look at the reassignment until tomorrow. They’ve got thirty-two students to move.”
“So, I’m thirty-three.”
“No. You’re the one they think they’ve already dealt with.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“That sounds about right.”
He looked at the desk, where I had left the form.
“I confirmed that we’re willing to have you here temporarily. They asked whether the family allocation could stay open until they review it. I said yes.”
“Even though we’re not family.”
“They have your correction. I haven’t told them otherwise.”
I watched him.
“There’s a ‘but’ coming.”
“Yes.” He put his phone in his pocket. “The email went to my father as well.”
“The one who pays for the room.”
“Richard. Yes.”
“Then tell him what happened.”
“I will. Once I know whether Housing can approve you staying without his allocation.”
“Why wait?”
“Because if he asks them to withdraw it first, they’ll do that before they find you somewhere else.”
There was no humour in his voice now.
“He’d rather have an empty room?”
“He’d rather be asked.”
I looked around at the bed, the wardrobe, my books already on the desk.
“So, I’m here until your father notices.”
“You’re here tonight. Tomorrow I’ll speak to the manager properly.”
I didn’t like how relieved I was to hear it. I also didn’t like that he could make a phone call and get an answer when I had been standing at a desk with a broken suitcase.
“What do you want from me?”
Julian looked faintly surprised.
“Nothing.”
“People usually say that just before they explain what they want.”
He glanced towards the corridor.
“Fine. I’d rather this didn’t become a story all over campus before we’ve sorted it.”
“The story where you’ve acquired a sister?”
“Yes.”
“Your chalkboard isn’t helping.”
“I know. I’ll rub it off.”
“And when someone asks?”
“You can tell them it’s an accommodation mix-up.”
I waited.
He sighed.
“Or you can say you’re staying at East House and leave it there. It’s up to you.”
I picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. I could already imagine explaining it: my surname, his surname, the flooded rooms, the reserved bed. Then explaining it again to someone who had only heard the entertaining part.
“How long?”
“Give me until Friday to get a proper answer. If you want to move sooner, tell me.”
“Friday,” I repeated.
He nodded.
“And I’m not pretending to have grown up with you.”
“I wouldn’t know what to tell people either.”
“You could say I was your favourite.”
“That might be pushing it.”
I looked up. He was smiling slightly.
For the first time, I could see why people might like him for reasons that had nothing to do with the prospectus.
“All right,” I said. “I won’t go around correcting people who haven’t asked. But if someone asks me directly, I’m telling them.”
“Fair enough.”
He moved towards the door.
“Noah’s made pasta.”
“I’ve eaten.”
His eyes went to the paper bag beside me. A few crumbs had fallen onto the duvet.
“There’s plenty if you change your mind.”
He left without commenting on the roll.
That helped more than it should have.
***
I went downstairs because I was still hungry.
There was no more dignified explanation, although I tried to think of one on the way.
In the hall, someone had rubbed Julian’s sister off the board. The chalk had left a white smear beside my name.
Noah was carrying plates to the table when I reached the kitchen.
“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure whether to save you some.”
“I can get my own.”
“It’s already here.”
He put a plate at the empty place. I sat before I could turn accepting dinner into another argument.
Caspian leaned back in his chair.
“Settled in?”
“Mostly.”
“Found anything dreadful in the drawers?”
“I haven’t opened all of them.”
“Something to look forward to.”
“Stop trying to frighten her,” Noah said.
“I’m making conversation.”
Julian sat opposite me. Rook was at the far end of the table with his book beside his plate. He moved a notebook off the chair next to him so I could put my bag down.
I thanked him. He nodded and went back to eating.
For a few minutes, nobody asked me anything. Noah wanted to know who had used the last of the cheese. Caspian denied it while looking directly at the empty packet beside his elbow. Julian’s phone kept vibrating until he turned it face down.
I ate more quickly than I meant to.
“More?” Noah asked.
“I’m fine.”
He looked at my plate.
I sighed.
“Yes, please.”
He passed the bowl without making anything of it.
“What are you studying?” Julian asked.
“History.”
“Then you’ve got Marr tomorrow.”
“History of Institutions. Nine o’clock.”
Rook looked up.
“Old lecture theatre. The timetable has the wrong building.”
I took my phone out.
“Are you sure?”
“She emailed this afternoon.”
I checked. There it was, between the accommodation messages and a reminder to collect my student card.
“Thanks. I’d have gone to the other one.”
“You and half the class.”
“Rook will be there early,” Caspian said. “He likes to look disappointed when everyone comes in.”
“I don’t need to get there early for that.”
Noah laughed. I looked down at my plate to hide a smile, but when I glanced up, Rook had noticed.
He didn’t smile back.
Caspian turned to Julian.
“By the way, Cressida asked about your sister.”
My fork stopped.
“What did you tell her?” Julian asked.
“That she’d arrived.”
“Caspian.”
“What? She has.”
“I’m sitting here,” I said.
All three of them looked at me. Rook kept eating.
“If anyone wants to know about me, they can ask me.”
Caspian studied me for a moment, then raised his glass.
“Understood.”
Julian waited until Noah and Caspian had started arguing about washing up before leaning towards me.
“I’ll speak to her tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to manage everyone.”
“You haven’t met Cressida.”
“Neither had I met any of you an hour ago.”
“Fair point.”
Across the table, Rook shut his book.
“If you want people to stop calling her your sister, stop answering questions for her.”
Julian’s expression tightened.
“I’m trying to keep it simple.”
“Then let her answer.”
I glanced at Rook. He was putting his plate in the dishwasher, apparently finished with the conversation.
It irritated me that he had said what I meant more clearly than I had.
It irritated me more that I was grateful.
***
I helped Noah clear the table, partly because he had cooked and partly because I didn’t know how to leave without making a formal announcement.
By the time I went upstairs, Caspian had put music on and Julian was in the hall, speaking quietly into his phone.
“No, she’s arrived,” he said.
I stopped on the second step.
A pause.
“Yes. There’s been a mistake with the—”
He listened, his free hand pressed against the back of his neck.
“No. I said I’d deal with it.”
He looked up and saw me.
I continued upstairs.
In my room, I closed the door and stood with my hand on the key. My case was still open. I could put the books back in it in five minutes if I had to.
Instead, I took out my pyjamas.
Bea had sent another message.
Do you have a bed, or do I need to come and shout at someone?
I sat down to reply.
I have a bed. And four male housemates.
The phone rang immediately.
“No,” I said when I answered. “Whatever you’re about to say, no.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“I can hear you thinking.”
“Are they attractive?”
“I’ve had a difficult day.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
I leaned back against the wall and, for the first time since arriving, laughed.
After we hung up, I put the accommodation form in the desk drawer. I kept the photograph of it on my phone.
Friday. Julian had promised an answer by Friday.
I could manage a few days here. Attend my lectures, stay out of their way, find somewhere else if I needed to. It didn’t have to become complicated.
Someone knocked.
I opened the door to find Rook holding a small key.
“Bathroom,” he said. “Spare for the lock. In case it jams.”
I took it.
“Do all new residents get this much information about the bathroom?”
“Only the ones nobody bothered to show round.”
“Oh.”
He glanced past me at the books on the desk.
“Marr starts on time.”
“I know how lectures work.”
“I was going to say the back entrance is quieter if you’re late.”
I felt my face warm.
“Right. Thanks.”
He nodded and turned away.
“Rook?”
He stopped.
“Does everyone here think I’m Julian’s sister?”
“Everyone who’s seen the list.”
“Wonderful.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the key in my hand.
“You don’t have to let him decide what you tell people.”
“He’s helping me.”
“He can do both.”
Rook went back to his room before I could answer.
I closed the door, put the bathroom key beside my own and looked at them for a while.
Then I set my alarm for seven.
