At first, I thought people were just being kind.

“For the tenth time,” said Cath as we sat, sipping our coffees in library foyer, “you did not climb up the fountain, rip off your top and declare your undying love for Geeky Steve.”

“But I remember doing it,” I replied.

“It must have been a dream.”

“But it seemed so real.”

Cath sniggered. “That’s alcohol for you.”

Her theory made sense, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that what I thought had happened had actually happened, and during my first lecture, I began to wonder if I were going mad.

“That’s better,” I said, sliding into the seat next to Ryan.

“What’s better?” he asked.

“My trousers.”

“What about your trousers?”

“They were inside-out.”

“They were?”

“Yeah. You told me they were.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I think you’ve got me confused with somebody else.”

At lunchtime, I ditched the madness theory and decided upon conspiracy instead.

“Where were you?” asked Layla as she flopped down onto the grass next to me, baguette in hand.

“What d’you mean?”

“You were supposed to meet me in the launderette at break.”

“I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. I was there before you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Yes. I was. Don’t you remember? I tripped over that bag of wet washing and landed in a puddle of water? I had to go back to my room to change.”

Layla only laughed.

“Oh, I’m getting fed up with this,” I said and stomped back to the dorm. It was clear something was going on, but I didn’t have a clue what. Not until after I’d run into to Ian. Literally.

“Sorry!” I said, blushing as I grasped his hand and hauled him to his feet.

“What for?”

“For knocking you over.”

“Eh? You didn’t.”

I was about to say, “Yes, I did,” when a thought struck me, and, on impulse, I grabbed him by the collar, pulled him toward me and gave him a huge, wet, lip-smacking kiss. My cheeks blazing, I let him go, spun around, dashed down the corridor and waited breathlessly outside my room.

Moments later, Ian appeared around the corner. “Hello,” he said and walked right by me as if nothing had happened.

So that was it … I rocked up to my last lecture wearing my Christmas pyjamas. At dinner, I stood on a refectory table and sang, “My humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps,” and afterward, I went skinny dipping in the campus lake. And no one batted an eyelid. Not once. Later, when I asked them about what they’d seen, none of them, and I mean none of them, could recall my actions. They weren’t being kind; I wasn’t going mad; and there wasn’t any conspiracy. Somehow, I’d developed the ability to make people forget my most embarrassing moments. It was like a gift from God. Until the moment it disappeared.