job as a trainee computer technician with ETN. Systems. It would pay the rent on his little flat until he found out what he really wanted to do. He wanted to start his own business or maybe write a screenplay that would transform the British film industry. Now, five years later, he was still working for ETN, but he had been promoted and was earning okay money. The job was boring sometimes, but hey, things could be a lot worse.
He was twenty-nine years old and he felt like, at last, he was entering the adult world. He was a property owner. There was rumour of a further promotion at work. He and Kirsty had talked about getting married and starting a family, and he could see that happening in the not-too-distant future, when the time was right. The thought of it made him feel light-headed, but it was a welcome sensation. Kirsty wanted the same. She loved children – why else would she work in the children’s ward of a hospital? Some days she would come home in fits of giggles over something one of the children had done or said; sometimes there would be tears. Jamie would hold her while she recounted whatever story she had to tell. Some of the tales were so terribly sad. Jamie, who had never met the children involved or their families, would get upset too. Sometimes, now, Jamie would find himself looking at Kirsty and thinking to himself: she’ll make a great mum. She thought that when he looked at her all he thought about was sex. But half the time he was actually thinking about getting her pregnant.
Now, he put his arm out of the open window of Paul’s van and tapped along to the music on the radio. His hangover had gone, blown away by the fresh breeze that blew in through the window. The sky was Bondi-blue. The people they passed wore T-shirts and shorts or little summer dresses. There was something about England in the summer – the way its inhabitants seemed to wake up, cast off their frowns and complaints. He couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. And when he thought about Kirsty, he couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Paul asked. ‘You’ve got the stupidest grin on your face.’
‘Oh, I was just thinking about…stuff.’
Paul smiled and shook his head. ‘Soppy bloody git.’
After picking up the furniture from Jamie’s they drove back across the city and parked outside the new flat.
Paul, who had been Jamie’s best mate since he’d moved to London, opened up the back of the van and began stacking boxes on the pavement while Jamie jogged up to the front door and unlocked it. He wedged a piece of cardboard beneath it to hold it open.
‘God, look at all this junk!’ Paul held a battered tennis racquet with broken strings in one hand and a moth-munched giant stuffed rabbit in the other. ‘Why don’t you chuck all this stuff out?’
Jamie took the rabbit from his friend. ‘This is Kirsty’s.’
‘Then what’s it doing in your stuff?’
He shrugged.
Paul reached out and tweaked the rabbit’s ear. ‘I bet it’s not really Kirsty’s. I bet you’ve had it since you were four and it’s called something like Mr Bun-Bun, and apart from Kirsty it’s the love of your life.’
‘No Paul – you’re the other love of my life.’
Paul lifted a red plastic crate out of the van. It was full of seven-inch singles. He took out a handful and studied them. ‘Fuck, how old are these? Madness, The Specials. Did you inherit these off your grandad?’
‘Those are classics.’
Paul rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a hoarder, mate. You’ll probably end up like one of those old blokes who can’t bear to throw anything away, living in a flat surrounded by yellow newspapers and empty baked bean tins. Kirsty will have got fed up with you and run off with a bloke who’s into Japanese minimalism. ‘
‘Has today suddenly turned into Slag Off Jamie day?’
‘I’m only teasing. Come on, we’d better get the rest of this stuff into the flat.’
Paul went to pick up the box containing the tennis racquet and some folders full of training notes from when Jamie joined ETN, but Jamie stopped him.
‘Leave it.’
‘Eh?’
‘I saw a skip on the way here. When we’ve unloaded the rest of the gear we’ll take this junk there and dump it.’
Paul raised his eyebrows.
‘And before you ask, yes I am sure.’
They picked up a crate of