don’t. You’re contracted to turn up to work five days a week.’
‘Yeah, but I’d rather do that and have plenty of money than sit around all day doing nothing, worrying about how to pay for stuff.’
‘I thought your parents paid for everything?’
‘They weren’t paying for my drinks. At least they thought they weren’t. I’ve honestly never been more bored in my entire life than I was at uni. Nothing happened. Ever. I know it was a bit different for you because you had the football team and all your other mates but I didn’t have any of that. I think they make the drinks cheap in uni bars because alcohol’s the only thing stopping most students from topping themselves.’
‘That kid in halls in the first year did, didn’t he?’
‘He’d probably run out of money to get drunk and couldn’t see the point any more. I don’t blame him.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Mark says, shrugging. ‘I think people that miss being students are either lazy or scared of the real world, or a mixture of the two.’
‘Yeah, but I’m not lazy or scared of the real world; I just don’t like my job.’
‘That’s three reasons then. Anyone who spends their lives on a university campus is just trying to avoid life, and that’s impossible.’
‘But you can try different things and meet interesting people. You don’t have a boss breathing down your neck the whole time.’
‘Do you know how many interesting people I met at uni? None.’
‘I’m sorry I’m not more interesting,’ Craig says half-offended.
‘I don’t mean you, obviously. I mean other people. Everyone goes on about university this or university that, but I don’t understand it. If my only ambition was to do nothing apart from drink and sit watching DVDs all day then I’d probably miss it loads, but since we left I’ve never once thought “Oh I’d love to be a student again”. The only time I think about it is when I have a day off sick and I sit around the house on my own watching TV, and all that reminds me of is how fucking dull it was.’
‘You didn’t seem to dislike it that much at the time.’
‘True, but I never knew what it was like to have a good job.’
‘I still don’t.’ Craig looks up at the sky. ‘But at least we had some freedom, and the feeling we could do literally anything or go anywhere.’
‘Yes, but we never had enough money to do anything good. It’s not like we could have just hopped on a plane to Rio. You can have as much freedom as you like but without money it’s meaningless. You might as well be locked up. Anyway mate, enough of this depressing chat, have I told you I’m going on a date with a model this week?’
CHAPTER SIX
C raig sits in his car with Kiss FM on and the windows shut. The dashboard display says that it’s 11.42 a.m. and 19°c. He is parked on the forecourt of a dilapidated Edwardian house next to a C-registration Vauxhall Cavalier which has both front wheels missing. Steps up from the pavement lead to a numberless front door. The building’s paintwork is peeling badly and iron bars cover the windows on all floors. There is a blue plaque on the wall marking the spot where a policeman was shot dead in 1981. The houses either side are both in the process of being demolished.
Craig reclines his seat and shuts his eyes. Seconds later there is a knock on the window. He panics and activates the central locking. On the other side of the glass is a skinny girl with spiky blonde hair. She has neon yellow sunglasses perched on her nose and is wearing a long vest with a silver skull printed down one side and short denim shorts.
‘Hello, are you Holly?’ Craig says, relaxing as he gets out of the car.
‘No, I’m Crystal,’ the girl says, ‘that’s Holly.’ She points at a tall girl with bright red hair, sucking on an orange lolly. She is dressed in skinny stonewashed jeans and a black and white striped t-shirt with red dots over it.
Craig waves. ‘I’m
‘Yeah, but I’d rather do that and have plenty of money than sit around all day doing nothing, worrying about how to pay for stuff.’
‘I thought your parents paid for everything?’
‘They weren’t paying for my drinks. At least they thought they weren’t. I’ve honestly never been more bored in my entire life than I was at uni. Nothing happened. Ever. I know it was a bit different for you because you had the football team and all your other mates but I didn’t have any of that. I think they make the drinks cheap in uni bars because alcohol’s the only thing stopping most students from topping themselves.’
‘That kid in halls in the first year did, didn’t he?’
‘He’d probably run out of money to get drunk and couldn’t see the point any more. I don’t blame him.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Mark says, shrugging. ‘I think people that miss being students are either lazy or scared of the real world, or a mixture of the two.’
‘Yeah, but I’m not lazy or scared of the real world; I just don’t like my job.’
‘That’s three reasons then. Anyone who spends their lives on a university campus is just trying to avoid life, and that’s impossible.’
‘But you can try different things and meet interesting people. You don’t have a boss breathing down your neck the whole time.’
‘Do you know how many interesting people I met at uni? None.’
‘I’m sorry I’m not more interesting,’ Craig says half-offended.
‘I don’t mean you, obviously. I mean other people. Everyone goes on about university this or university that, but I don’t understand it. If my only ambition was to do nothing apart from drink and sit watching DVDs all day then I’d probably miss it loads, but since we left I’ve never once thought “Oh I’d love to be a student again”. The only time I think about it is when I have a day off sick and I sit around the house on my own watching TV, and all that reminds me of is how fucking dull it was.’
‘You didn’t seem to dislike it that much at the time.’
‘True, but I never knew what it was like to have a good job.’
‘I still don’t.’ Craig looks up at the sky. ‘But at least we had some freedom, and the feeling we could do literally anything or go anywhere.’
‘Yes, but we never had enough money to do anything good. It’s not like we could have just hopped on a plane to Rio. You can have as much freedom as you like but without money it’s meaningless. You might as well be locked up. Anyway mate, enough of this depressing chat, have I told you I’m going on a date with a model this week?’
CHAPTER SIX
C raig sits in his car with Kiss FM on and the windows shut. The dashboard display says that it’s 11.42 a.m. and 19°c. He is parked on the forecourt of a dilapidated Edwardian house next to a C-registration Vauxhall Cavalier which has both front wheels missing. Steps up from the pavement lead to a numberless front door. The building’s paintwork is peeling badly and iron bars cover the windows on all floors. There is a blue plaque on the wall marking the spot where a policeman was shot dead in 1981. The houses either side are both in the process of being demolished.
Craig reclines his seat and shuts his eyes. Seconds later there is a knock on the window. He panics and activates the central locking. On the other side of the glass is a skinny girl with spiky blonde hair. She has neon yellow sunglasses perched on her nose and is wearing a long vest with a silver skull printed down one side and short denim shorts.
‘Hello, are you Holly?’ Craig says, relaxing as he gets out of the car.
‘No, I’m Crystal,’ the girl says, ‘that’s Holly.’ She points at a tall girl with bright red hair, sucking on an orange lolly. She is dressed in skinny stonewashed jeans and a black and white striped t-shirt with red dots over it.
Craig waves. ‘I’m
Similar Books
