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Letters from Tara · February: Saying No Early

The draft she did not send

Danya,

It's February, which means everyone here has gone mad about houses. Not this year's. Next year's. Apparently if you don't find a house for your second year by about now, all the good ones go and you end up living somewhere with mushrooms growing out of the bathroom ceiling. Hollie says her brother had mushrooms. She says it like it's a ghost story.

Hollie has found a house. It's on a street near the park, with a big kitchen and a garden and six bedrooms. Six of us: Hollie, the twins, Priya from the corridor upstairs, a boy from Hollie's course called Fergus, and me. We're going to see it on Thursday. Hollie's already chosen her room off the photos. She's put me down for the one at the top, with the sloping ceiling, because she says I like reading.

I do like reading. And I like Hollie more than almost anyone here.

The thing is, I don't think I want to live with six people again. This year's kitchen is lovely, but it's loud, all the time, and I've been going to the library just to think. I'd really rather share with one or two. Somewhere smaller. Somewhere quiet enough to hear yourself.

But everyone's so excited. And Hollie's done all the work. And it would be awful to be the one who says no, when everyone else has said yes. So I nodded. I'm going to say yes for now, and see how I feel in May, when it's all a bit less

The draft stopped there, as all the drafts did.

Tara read it on Tuesday morning, before her nine o'clock, and she felt her stomach drop the way it did when she missed a step in the dark.

She knew how she would feel in May. She would feel exactly the same as she did now. She did not want to live with six people. She had known it when Hollie showed her the photos, and she had known it when she nodded. The only thing that would change by May was that six names would be on a contract, and a deposit would be paid, and everyone would have stopped looking for anywhere else.

She thought about what it would cost, in May. A deposit for the house was eighteen hundred pounds, Hollie had said, shared by six, which was three hundred each. If one of the six backed out after they had signed, the other five would have to find someone new in a hurry, at the end of the year, when everyone already had a house. Or they would have to share it between five, which was three hundred and sixty each, and the rent too. All because she had nodded in February.

She put the draft in the back of the notebook with the other five. There were six now.

She looked at the sticky note inside the front cover. The cheapest time to say the thing is before there is a plan for it to be against. Under it, from December: Ask on the second day, not the last. Under that, from January: First chance, not last.

The viewing was on Thursday. It was Tuesday. There was a plan already, but it was only two days old. It was still cheap.

Tuesday evening

She found Hollie in the kitchen at six, making a curry with too many chillies and singing to the extractor fan.

"Hollie," said Tara. "Can I say something? About the house?"

"Ooh, is it the room?" said Hollie. "You can have the one with the bay window if you'd rather. I don't mind. I only picked yours because of the sloping ceiling, I thought it looked like a reading room, but honestly..."

"It's not the room," said Tara.

Hollie stopped stirring.

"I'd love to live near you next year," said Tara. It came out more steadily than she had expected. She had practised it on the stairs. "Really near. On the same street, if I can. But I don't think I want to live in a house of six again. I find it too loud. I go to the library to think. I'd rather share with one or two." She took a breath. "And I'm saying it now, before Thursday, so you can find a sixth person while there's still time. Not in May."

There was a pause. The curry bubbled. Somewhere upstairs, someone dropped something heavy.

Tara waited for the awful bit.

What Hollie said

Hollie looked disappointed. She did not hide it. Her face went down at the corners, and she said "Oh," and she turned the heat off under the curry.

Then she looked at Tara properly for a moment.

"You go to the library to think?" she said.

"Most days," said Tara.

"I thought you just really liked the library."

"I do really like the library," said Tara. "I also really like quiet."

Hollie sat down at the kitchen table. Then, slowly, something else came into her face, something that looked a lot like relief.

"Can I tell you something awful?" she said. "My cousin's friend Mae has been asking me for two weeks if she can be in the house. She's lovely. She's on my course. She's got nowhere. And I kept saying there wasn't room, because I'd already got six, and I felt terrible every time." She laughed, a bit wobbly. "So you're not ruining anything. You might actually be fixing something."

"Really?" said Tara.

"Really," said Hollie. "And thank you for saying it now. My brother had a friend who pulled out in June, after they'd signed. It was a nightmare. Five of them paid for six all year. They still don't speak to him." She picked up her phone. "I'm going to text Mae before I lose my nerve."

"You don't lose your nerve," said Tara.

"I do about some things," said Hollie. "Not curry."

Through the wall

Later that night, Tara was reading in her room when there was a knock. It was Joss, with his headphones round his neck and a pencil behind his ear, as usual.

"Sorry," he said. "The walls are very thin. I heard about the house."

"Oh," said Tara. "Sorry."

"No," said Joss. "I was going to ask you something anyway, and then I didn't, because I thought you were going with Hollie." He leaned on the door frame. "I'm looking for a flat for two next year. Near the music building, so I can practise late without the whole street hating me. There's one on the canal. Two bedrooms, very small kitchen, very thick walls." He paused. "I'm going to look at it on Saturday. Do you want to come and see it?"

Tara thought about the thick walls.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'd like to look at it."

"It might be awful," said Joss.

"It might," said Tara. "I'll still come and look."

After he had gone, she sat on her bed for a long time with her book open on the same page.

She had thought, all through Monday and Tuesday, that saying no would be the most expensive thing she could do. She would lose Hollie, or hurt her, or be the awkward one. And it had cost one minute of Hollie's face going down at the corners, and then a text to someone called Mae, and then a knock on the door.

If she had waited for May, it would have cost a house.

The letter she sent

Danya,

You know how I always say yes and then think about it afterwards? This month I did the thinking first.

Hollie found a house for next year, for six of us, and I nodded, because everyone was excited and she'd done all the work. But I didn't want to live with six people again. I was going to say yes for now and see how I felt in May.

Then I worked out what May would cost. By May the contract would be signed and the deposit paid, and if I pulled out, the other five would have to find someone or pay more, three hundred and sixty each instead of three hundred. So I told Hollie on Tuesday, two days after she asked, before the viewing.

It was awful for about a minute. Then it turned out a girl called Mae had been begging to be in the house for two weeks and Hollie hadn't had room. So now Mae's in, and Hollie's relieved, and I'm going to see a flat by the canal on Saturday with Joss, which has very thick walls.

A no on the day costs a minute. A no in May costs a house.

Tara

P.S. Six drafts now. In this one I said yes to something I didn't want so that nobody would be disappointed. Somebody was disappointed anyway, for a minute. Then they weren't.

The question for your own table

Is there something you have said yes to that you already know you will want to say no to? What will that no cost now, and what will it cost later?

Something to do

Think of one plan you are in that you would rather not be. Write the plainest sentence you could say about it, with the reason and the offer of help. Say it this week, while the plan is still young.

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