The rain hasn’t eased up, so by the time I’m at the bus stop, I’m soaked inside and out. Sometimes I wonder why I bother with a raincoat—I end up sweating so much, I think the rain might actually be preferable. Thank God I brought my deodorant. At least I won’t end up stinking like a dead whale later. See, it was a good idea after all. Beth Soames, ready for anything.
Except today. I am definitely not ready for today.
The bus turns up on time, which is good. Quite a few empty seats, good, which one to choose, a window one for preference, God, where did my headphones go, escaping down my top—
That’s when I spot him, looking at his watch with that slightly dramatic motion people who still wear watches use. I don’t know why I chose to look at the exact moment he moved. It’s a gift, I suppose, a sort of hyper-awareness that means nothing gets past me. It comes from a lifetime of barely-disguised disgusted glances, or the tuts that come when you can’t quite get out of someone’s way, despite trying your very hardest. Anyway, my spidey-senses must have picked up on something, because there’s no way this was simply a coincidence.
The man with the watch is the pervert. The one who groped me. Given everything that has happened to me recently, I’d almost managed to forget him. Almost, but not quite.
My heart thumps once and begins to race. The edges of reality go fuzzy. I stumble past him and duck into the nearest seat, staring, bug-eyed, straight ahead, my headphones forgotten. All I can hear is the roar of blood in my ears.
He gazes out the window, oblivious.
I chew on my lips. I should say something. Be brave. Be strong and stand up for all the other girls who go through this shit every day. Maybe someone will record it on their phone and it’ll go viral, brave girl stands up to her harasser, gives all other girls hope, shows them they can fight back . . .
The bus slows, and he stands up.
Two seconds later, and he’s wandering down the aisle without a care in the world.
And then he’s gone, off the bus, melting into the crowds of people trying to get to work, his paper held over his head to keep the worst of the rain off.
I think I see the flash of a wedding ring before he disappears.
***
Two stops later and it’s my turn to disembark. I try to stop my hand from shaking when I press the button for the bell.
I pull my hood up and cram my hands into my pockets, hunching my shoulders in a futile attempt at making myself smaller. It doesn’t work; I still bump into two people. Because they’re terribly British, they apologize, but I can see the seething annoyance in their eyes. Sometimes I wish we were more like the Americans and were freer with our emotions, but today I’m glad of our stiff upper lip. I think if one of them had shouted at me, I might actually have cried.
Outside Richmond building, crowds of students are milling, all with their hoods up, all faceless. A growing sense of panic builds within me again: Where’s Amy? I’m not up to this today. Maybe I should just go home. Maybe I should just—
“Hey, Beth!” My heart thuds. “I waved, but you didn’t see me. You okay?”
I’m not quite sure how I didn’t see her, as she’s wearing a bright pink mackintosh and matching Doc Martens. I smile faintly.
“Heya. It’s hard to see out from under this hood. You okay?”
“Yeah, I am—and I know, right? When will this shitty weather end, eh?” She’s grinning, but it’s strained, like she’s forcing herself to be normal, to talk about normal things.
“How’s Dizzy?” I say, cracking first. An unmistakable look of relief crosses Amy’s face.
“She’s okay. Last thing I heard, they were discharging her and she was going home. Back to her parents, not here,” she adds, as if that even needed to be clarified.
I nod, unsure of what else to say.
“You were great, you know,” Amy says. “You really helped. I dread to think what might have happened if you weren’t around. You’re such a rock.”
I swallow, my cheeks flaming. I try to mutter something along the lines of “No, I’m not,” but it comes out as a grunt. Amy’s giving me one of those aww, bless you smiles because she thinks I’m being bashful and self-deprecating, when in reality, the urge to yell “She only did it because of me!” is getting quite hard to resist.
Amy links arms with me. I tense, but I don’t think she notices.
“Come on, you lovely person. Door’s open. Let’s get out of the rain and plan tonight.”