‘I’m not complaining. I love sausage rolls.’
He opened the door, revealing a narrow corridor leading to a stairway and a sign: Big’s Digs: Restaurant and Bar.
‘We’ve rented out Big’s for the evening,’ said Sunil cheerfully, leading me up the stairs and into the restaurant. ‘The club nights are fine, obviously, but I insisted we have formals as well this year. Not everyone is into clubbing.’
It wasn’t a huge space, but it was a beautiful one. It was one of Durham’s old buildings, so the ceiling was low, adorned with wooden beams and soft, warm lighting. All the tables had been arranged in neat squares, laden with white tablecloths, candles, shiny cutlery and colourful centrepieces that featured all sorts of different pride flags – some I recognised, some I didn’t. A few multicoloured balloons hung from the corners of the room and streamers bordered the windows. Right at the back, overlooking the whole room, was a big rainbow flag.
‘Could have gone harder with the pride flags,’ Sunil said, narrowing his eyes. I couldn’t tell whether he was joking.
We weren’t alone in the room – there was a small gathering of people putting a few final touches on the decorations. I quickly spotted the other third year I met on the stall, Jess, although her braids were styled into an updo. She was wearing a dress with tiny dogs on it. She waved, skipped over to Sunil, and swung her arm round him.
‘Oh my God, finally,’ she said.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Good, actually. We’re just arguing about whether to do place cards or not.’
‘Hm. People will want to sit with their friends, though.’
‘That’s what I think. But Alex thinks that’ll cause chaos.’
They discussed place cards while I stood slightly behind Sunil, like a toddler behind their parent’s leg at a family gathering. The students setting up all appeared to be third years. Some were dressed in bright, quirky outfits – sequins, patterned suits and big heels – while others wore more ordinary dresses and tuxes. I felt entirely out of place in my overalls, no matter what Sunil had said.
‘Oh, and I’ve brought Georgia along to help set up,’ said Sunil, interrupting my thoughts. He gave me a squeeze round my shoulders.
Jess smiled at me. I felt a little panicked – was she going to ask why I was here? What was my sexuality? Why hadn’t I come to any of their other events?
‘Can you blow up balloons?’ she asked.
‘Um, yeah.’
‘Thank God, because I literally can’t, and Laura is moaning about doing it because she’s apparently got a cough.’ And then she handed me a packet of balloons.
Sunil had to go off to assist with the evening’s preparations, and I quickly started to feel like I’d made a terrible mistake by coming and that I was going to be forced into talking to a load of people I really didn’t know. But Jess seemed happy for me to tag along, working my way through the balloons, as she caught up with her friends and acquaintances, and I even got to know her a little, asking her about the orchestra and playing the viola and her friendship with Sunil.
‘I honestly did not have a real friend here until I met him,’ she said, after we’d finished tying up the last cluster of balloons. ‘We got sat next to each other at orchestra and we just immediately started gushing about what each other was wearing. And we’ve been glued at the hip ever since.’ She smiled, watching Sunil chatting to some timid-looking freshers. ‘Everyone loves Sunil.’
‘Well, he’s really nice, so that makes sense,’ I said.
‘Not just that, but he’s actually a really good president. He won the Pride Soc election by a landslide. Everyone was really fed up with the president last year – he didn’t want to use anyone else’s ideas except his own. Oh, speaking of.’ Jess hopped over to Sunil and quietly said, ‘Lloyd’s here. Just a heads-up.’ She pointed towards the entrance.
Sunil glanced towards the door where a skinny blond guy wearing a velvet tux was standing. An expression I hadn’t seen on Sunil before flashed across his features – annoyance.
Lloyd looked over to him, unsmiling, then walked away towards a table on the other side of the room.
‘Lloyd hates Sunil,’ said Jess, as Sunil rejoined his conversation with the group of freshers. ‘So, that’s a bit of a thing there.’
‘Drama?’ I asked.
Jess nodded. ‘Drama.’
For some reason – pity, or genuine kindness, I wasn’t sure – I ended up sitting next to Sunil at his table throughout the dinner. By eight o’clock, the room was packed and lively, and waiters were serving drinks and starters.