them, you see. The way I was brought up, you worked to earn, even if it meant a pittance, and I wasn’t going to suck up anyone’s arse for free whilst scrounging off my hardworking family. So, even when I arrived early and stayed late, just to make contact with the editors, I was dismissed like an opened, redundant envelope. I was the mailroom fella. Why would they give me a shot? So I thought fuck it. And quit.
‘But, you’ve got a degree, son,’ my dad had said.
‘A lot of people have degrees, Dad.’
‘You got a First.’
‘It doesn’t mean I’m qualified for much, though.’
‘But surely it qualifies you for something?’
‘And I’ll find something soon, Dad. Promise.’
Oh, Dad. I’m sorry. Salty, hot tears well up, but I blink them away, swallowing hard.
Fireworks are beginning to explode across the city. From the comfort of my driver’s seat, I watch as mini rockets dart through the sky, whistling, fizzling. Even if I keep the car, this is still a new start for me, isn’t it? I mean, driving to work every day in this awesome beast would at least get the day off to a bloody great start.
I turn into Snowy’s road, crawl up beside his house, put the handbrake on. God. Even that feels good.
‘It’s yours?’ Snowy’s hands are plastered to his neat black hair. He loves new stuff. Trainers, tablets, the latest smart telly. Situated in a new-build development, his whole house is a show home minus the plastic fruit. He gets a new car on a lease every two years, but not one in this sort of league.
‘It’s mine.’
‘So, you’re saying you gave two birds in town your phone number and now suddenly you’re the owner of this fucking beauty?’
‘You couldn’t write it, mate.’
‘You fluky bastard.’
Circling my prize, Snowy’s jaw is so far dropped that his usual smiley, squinting face is unrecognisable. He runs his index finger across the bonnet.
‘She’s exquisite,’ he says.
‘Quite. I just can’t believe I’ve got me own wheels,’ I say. ‘For years, I’ve sat stationary, watching everyone else driving, going through the tunnel, wondering where they’re going … and now, I’m going somewhere.’
Snowy laughs. ‘You’re a deep fucker, mate,’ he says.
‘And you, Brian Walsh, are blessed with the intellectual capacity of a jellyfish.’
‘What you got against jellyfish, eh?’
‘Oh, I didn’t say they don’t play a sophisticated role in the ecosystem.’
‘Okay, you’ve lost me now. As per usual. And I need a drink. Got some tins on ice in our new freezer.’
‘Can’t drink, lad.’ I jangle my keys, dangling them like a carrot. ‘I’m driving.’
We snigger, before pushing each other back and forth, the odd mock punch thrown in, until we both hug unashamedly. Neither of us has a brother, but that’s okay, we’ve got each other.
‘It couldn’t have happened to a better fella, mate,’ Snowy says, his grip still tight.
‘Cheers.’
‘I mean it, Jimbo. If anyone else pulled up outside me house having won a dream car for doing absolutely fuck all, I’d be fuming, mate. I’d wanna rip their smug head off and feed it to the dog. But, you. You, Jimbo. I’m over the moon for you. I am. Truly. What did your ma say?’
‘Haven’t told her yet.’
‘This is boss. Just so … boss. Fucking hell, mate, you’re making me cry here.’
I don’t admit that I nearly cried earlier. It’s different for Snowy, who blubbers often and always quite comfortably has, and who’s now blowing his nose on a fresh, clean handkerchief from his shirt pocket.
‘You soppy get,’ I say.
‘Fuck you. Anyway, why don’t you leave the car here tonight? Get smashed.’
‘Nah, I’m off work tomorrow. Doing the Sunday shift instead. Double time.’
‘All the more reason to get smashed, then. What’s wrong with you? You pregnant?’
‘Look, I don’t wanna waste me day in bed hungover.’
‘Ah, yeah. It really sucks to be you,’ Snowy chuckles, pulling a stupid face. ‘I mean, you’re a boss drunk. A riot. But you’re a fucking bastard with a hangover.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Ah, you’re the worst, mate. The worst! You act like someone’s done a massive shit in your head and you’re all like, “oh, woe is me,” and then the next minute you’re like the monster coming over the hill, a scary motherfucker.’
‘We’re getting old. Can’t handle it anymore.’
‘Speak for yourself, I’m always fine the next day.’
‘You’re a one in a million, lad.’
‘I know I am. Now, come on, Jimbo. Let’s get inside. The burgers should be done.’