Ellie is in the bathroom. She went in there as soon as we got back, so she's been in there about ten minutes now. Maybe she's got herself a diaphragm or something. I grin to myself, remembering when we first started sleeping together and she told me she'd never use one. She refused to put anything up there that wasn't firmly attached to something outside, paranoid about losing it up there or something. Maybe she's had a change of heart, but I have a packet of condoms either way.

She's taken down all the photos of friends she had on the bedroom wall last semester. I've only just noticed.

To be honest, though, it was only when we got to the top of the stairs and she stopped me and kissed me that I decided not to hold this evening against her. It's been a night of continual irritations and she's to blame for the lot of them.

Irritation #1: she turns up late. She doesn't offer an explanation, and only a reluctant apology. I don't push it, and we depart.

Irritation #2: on the bus into town she says she feels like seeing a movie tonight. We never see movies, at least not together unless we're in a bigger group. She told me when I first asked her out that she never does movie dates. She said they're just an excuse not to talk to each other. So either she really did feel like a movie tonight, or she just wanted an excuse not to talk to me. I spent the entire movie (irritation #3: another dodgy Hugh Grant romantic comedy) wondering, so that was certainly a joyless experience.

Irritation #4: I wear the Yves Saint Laurent top she got me for Christmas but she doesn't notice until we're in the restaurant after the movie. Even then, she only notices because I spill tomato sauce down it (something I might or might not have done deliberately by that stage).

Irritation #5: we don't get into the club I've been wanting to take her to since before the holiday. We don't get into the club because she dressed like a frump tonight (irritation #6). Of course, I don't tell her that and neither does the guy on the door (irritation #7). We haven't had sex since before Christmas (irritation #8) and I knew that if I didn't bite my tongue that would still be the case tomorrow morning (half of me was glad we'd be getting back to her place before 3am anyway, so maybe subtract an irritation there).

Irritation #9: when we don't get into the club I offer to pay for cab back but she says she'd rather walk. That was all right for her, but I wasn't the one who had brought their stupid big duffel coat on the date with them. Consequently, I was too cold to talk (irritation #10), but what was her excuse (irritation #11)?

I can't hear her in the bathroom anymore. I look at my watch and she's been in there close to a quarter of an hour now. I give her another five minutes, mainly because I'm so comfy, but also because I don't want to have to get dressed just to walk across the hall in case one of her housemates is still up.

(Another part of me hopes at least one of them might be. Having half my mind on worrying whether someone might walk through the door at any moment helps me last longer when we're shagging. I keep wanting to admit this to Ellie when we're both drunk, but it's probably best I haven't).

After twenty minutes she's still not back, my erection's gone to mush and the radiator's turned itself off, so my feet are getting cold. I have to get up, find where I threw my boxers, pull on shirt and trousers and then go find and out what's keeping her. Irritation #12.

The hall lights are off so I can see the light coming under the bathroom door. I can hear someone in there and I haven't heard her come out, but tap gently with a knuckle and ask if it's her just to be sure.

"Richard?" she says, sounding distant.

"Yeah, it's me. What's the problem?"

She sniffs. It sounded wet. I think she's crying.

"Ellie? Are you okay?"

She doesn't reply. I hear her move.

"Why don't you open the door?" I ask her.

"Richard, can you just go away, please?" she cries.

"Go back to your bedroom?"

"No," she says. "Home."

"Why? Ellie, what is it?"

"Please don't hate me," she adds quietly.

"I think you should let me in."

"Richard, please."

"Are you ill or something?"

"No," she says.

"Do you want me to get Amy?"

"No," she says.

"Then what?"

"Just go?"

I don't say anything.

"Richard?" she says after a while.

"Yes?"

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

"I'm not going, Ellie."

"Please!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

I can tell I'm just making her more upset.

"I can't do this now," she says.

"Okay, we won't," I say quickly. "Just let me in."

"No," she says.

"Why not?"

"Richard, please."

"I don't understand, Ellie."

At this point, another bedroom door opens and Amy - she of the perpetual frown - appears and glares at me. Irritation #13. She has such a plain, featureless face when she hasn't got her slap on, and I think I might have just woken her up.

"What's going on?" she says sluggishly.

"I have no idea," I tell her.

"Ellie in there?" she asks.

"Yeah, for half an hour now."

"Ellie, you okay, girl?" she says to the door.

"No," Ellie replies from the other side.

"Unlock the door."

"I've tried that," I tell her.

"Yeah, but I haven't," she reminds me.

Of course, Ellie promptly does exactly what she's told. Amy opens the door a few inches, slides her bony anorexic figure through the gap and then pushes it back shut. She doesn't need to lock it again. She knows I won't go in whilst she's there.

I press my ear to the door, trying to hear what they're whispering about. I can hear Ellie crying. It sounds muffled, probably crying into Amy's shoulder or something. That should be me in there.

A couple of minutes later the door opens again and Amy slips out. I don't even see Ellie somewhere behind the door before Amy's shut it again. She herds me to the top of the stairs and down a couple of steps. It's at this point that I realise I won't be staying the night after all.

"Okay, so are you gonna tell me what happened tonight?" Amy demands.

"Why? What did she say?" I ask.

"Well, she seems to think you're gonna finish with her."

"What?! Where's this come from?"

"Are you gonna finish with her?"

"No, of course not! I don't know where she got that idea."

"Haven't been screwing around, have you?"

"Oh, don't even bother, Amy."

"What? What?" she says innocently.

"I don't know any more than you do."

The bathroom door opens a crack. Ellie's behind it.

"Amy?" she mutters.

Amy turns back to me. "I think you should go," she says.

"Yeah, well, I don't seem to have much choice."

"It's what she wants."

I go up a step. Amy doesn't move.

"My shoes?" I say indignantly.

So she only lets me past so I can get them and my socks from Ellie's bedroom. She stands in front of the bathroom door, guarding it in case I might want to go in and say goodbye to my girlfriend before I go. Then she sees me to the bottom of the stairs, where she waits until I open the door.

"Don't call her for a few days," she tells me.

"Fuck off, Amy," I say quietly.

It's raining now and I'm going to get soaked.

"See you... Dick," she snarls.

Then she closes the door.

NOTES:
This chapter went through the most rewrites, about four or five in total. I've always thought that you shouldn't give chapter perspectives to minor characters (Richard would only appear in the story four times) but here I felt it essential. Ellie went from a single paragraph character referred to indirectly in my original concept of the story to one of the novel's main characters. I like her for this reason, as she's the first character I've ever written that has effectively written herself into the plot and then taken it over. Her role in the story, as discovered at the end, was to have fooled around with Alex (he of the first chapter), which would have led her to find Lee's body.

Ellie was named after a German girl I went to junior school with (I'm surprised I haven't used her full name, Elvisa, for one of my many Nazis). Richard was named purely and simply so that I could slip in that dick/Dick joke at the end. I know, very bad. And with any luck, you won't be reading this, Steveo, because I named Amy after your little friend from the first year. My character Amy was going to be a whore bitch as well, but at least she wouldn't run off with people's money.

Incidentally, I don't go in for direct referencing most of the time (place names, products, etc) but I was reading "American Psycho" at the time of writing this, and had started to notice brand names more, to the extent where I managed to subconsciously count three people wearing the same YSL top on the London underground in one day.