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very keen on Manu. They
preferred this to knowing their daughter was doing some
moronic job or, worse, sleeping on the streets.
    All through the summer I worked in a restaurant just
downstairs from our apartment so that I could at least
pay for food. The little money I had left over constituted
pocket money.
    That's our deal: he pays the rent and the bills, and I
take care of the rest, given my financial situation. In fact,
although he hasn't told me, I know perfectly well that
he's not actually paying the rent. His mother gives him
enough to pay for everything, plus a handsome chunk of
spending money, every month. I never bring the subject
up; I love him too much and, as I'm living in his
apartment, I think it's quite right that I should contribute
to expenses as much as I can. Anyway, I make do.
Sometimes when I go home I load up with whatever's in
the fridge or with things my mother gives me. Through
the summer it all worked perfectly: we were happy like
that, cobbling together little meals for the two of us and
occasionally going out for a drink with friends. Most of
the time we stayed in watching TV, me nestling in his
arms, him always with a joint in his mouth. I was taking
my first real bite at life, with my boyfriend by my side,
and everything seemed so much easier.
    This evening I've come home from work exhausted
having done two extra hours which I know I won't be
paid for. I'm being completely exploited in this job but
so far it's the only solution I've managed to find to
guarantee my financial contribution. I also know that, if
I do this job all through the year, I'll be tired the whole
time but, for now, I don't really have an option. I'll find
something else when I've got my actual timetable, and I
know exactly when my lectures are.
    Manu's here, in front of the TV. I say a happy, bouncy
'hello' as I sit down next to him and give him a big kiss
on the mouth. Something strange happens: he doesn't
return my enthusiasm.
    'What's going on? Is everything OK?'
    'Yes, I'm fine,' he says evasively.
    'Are you sure? You don't seem . . .'
    Manu turns off the TV and looks at me at last. He
hesitates for a moment, then suddenly makes up his mind
to speak. 'Laura, we're going to live together this year,
and I want you to contribute to the rent.'
    I pause for a moment, still looking him in the eye.
'Yes, I understand. But I don't make much money at the
restaurant. How much do you want from me?'
    'Half the rent, 300 euros. You see, I'm not going to be
able to do it on my own . . .'
    On his own! Liar! He knows perfectly well that I get
only just that much from my waitressing and, if I gave it
to him, I wouldn't have anything left. Trying to keep my
courage up, I tell myself it's high time to give up
waitressing and find another job.
    'OK,' I say, 'but I think I'll have to find a different job.'
    'Yes, I think you're right. And, for the shopping, we'll
take it in turns every other week, is that all right?'
    Now he's asking me to do the shopping too? I can't
believe it.
    A lack of money always puts people in such an
awkward situation that they don't dare reply. I have to
agree, though: 'OK,' I say, 'whatever you say.'
    I sit back down on the sofa and turn on the TV so I
don't have to talk. It's the only thing I can think of to
end the embarrassed silence between us. At the end of the
evening I go to sleep in his arms to persuade myself this
whole question of money is fine and needn't come
between us.
    Two days later I sign up with a telesales company for
a part-time job.

Chapter 3
Term Time
    17 September 2006
    T IMETABLE IN HAND , I have to run so I don't miss my
first lecture. I've only just left the secretaries' offices
where I've signed up for my course. There I was, thinking
all the admin was over and done with after that endless
waiting the other day – how wrong I was!
    After the administrative enrolment I had to go to the
modern languages building and sign up for my course. I
have only twenty hours of lectures and tutorials