Part 13 (1/2)

'The usual. Same as last year's, same as next year's. You?'

'Oh, you know. The same.' Tone is back with the three special lagers. 'So . . . what's new?' I ask.

'What's ”newnr says Spencer.

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'At work, I mean . . .'

'What work?' he asks, with a wink. As far as I know, Spencer's still signing on and doing cash-in-hand nights.h.i.+fts.

'At the petrol station . . . ?'

'Well, we've got a very interesting free-setof-wine-gla.s.ses promotion on at the moment, that's causing quite a stir, and the price of four-star went up the other day, that was pretty thrilling, too. So all in all, I haven't been this excited since I had that all-chocolate Kit-Kat. Oh, and last week a bunch of students drove off without paying . . .'

'I hope you chased after them,' slurs Tone.

'Well, no, Tony, I didn't, on account of them being in a car and me being on foot. Besides, I only get one pound eighty an hour. They'd have to pay me a lot more than that before I break into a run.'

'How do you know they were students?' I ask, taking the bait.

'Well, they were very badly dressed for one thing. Long scarves, little round gla.s.ses, bad haircuts . . .' He smiles conspiratorially at Tone, then back at me. 'How's your eyesight, Bri?' This is a running gag between Tone and Spencer, who believe that I lied to my optician just to get spectacles.

'Fine, thank you, Spence,' and I decide to go and get some crisps.

On the way to the bar, I think for a moment about heading for the door and walking out. I love Spence and Tone, Spencer especially, and I think it's mutual, though G.o.d knows we'd never actually use the L-word, not sober, anyway. But for my eighteenth birthday Spencer and Tone tied me naked to the end of Southend pier and force-fed me laxatives, so it's a love that expresses itself in unconventional ways.

When I come back they've started talking about Tone's s.e.x life, so I know I'm going to be in the clear for the next hour or so. Barmaids, hairdressers, teachers, school friends' sisters, or mothers even, no one seems immune to Tone's Nordic I.

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charms. The list is endless, and the detail is explicit, and after a while I start to feel I need a bath, but he's obviously got something going for him, Tone, something other than sensitivity or tenderness or consideration. It's far easier to imagine that, after making love, he rubs his knuckles very hard on his lover's head. I wonder, but don't ask, if Tone's practising safe s.e.x, but suspect that he thinks safe s.e.x is for wimps, in the same way that safety-belts and crash-helmets are for wimps. If Tone was thrown from a plane, he'd still think parachutes were for wimps.

'How about you then, Brian, any action?'

'Not really.' This sounds a bit feeble, so I add, nonchalantly, There is this girl, Alice, and she's invited me to stay with her tomorrow, at her cottage, so . . .'

'Her cottage? says Spencer. 'What is she? A milkmaid?'

'You know, a house, in the country, her parents' . . .'

'So you're s.h.a.gging her then?' asks Tone.

'It's platonic.'

'What's platonic mean then?' asks Spencer, even though he knows.

'It means she won't let him s.h.a.g her,' says Tone.

T'm not ”s.h.a.gging” her because I don't want to ”s.h.a.g” her, not yet anyway. If I wanted to, then I would.'

'Though recent evidence would suggest that not to be the case,' says Spencer.

Tone seems to find this incredibly funny, so I decide to retreat again, and go and get some more gin-and-lagers; I stumble slightly as I leave the booth, so I know they're beginning to do their work. Keenly aware of how pocket money doesn't stretch very far these days. The Black Prince is also incredibly cheap, and it's possible for three young men to get incoherent, aggressive, sentimental and violent, and still have change from a tenner.

When I sit back down, Spencer asks me, 'So what do you actually do all day then?'

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'Talk. Read. Go to lectures. Argue/ 'It's not proper work though, is it?'

'Not work. Experience.'

'Yeah, well, I'm very happy in the University of Life, thank you very much,' says Tone.

The applied for the University of Life. Didn't get the grades,' says Spencer.

'Not the first time you've said that, is it?' I say.

'Obviously not. So what about politics?' The question feels like being poked with a stick.

'What about it?'

'Been on any good demonstrations lately?'

'One or two.'

'What for?' asks Tone.

The sensible thing would be to change the subject, but I don't see why I should compromise my political views just for the sake of an easy life, so I tell them.

'Apartheid 'For or against?' asks Spencer.

'. . . the NHS, Gay Rights Tone perks up at this. 'What b.a.s.t.a.r.d's been trying to take away your rights?'

'Not my rights. There's a move by the Tory council to try and prevent schools from portraying h.o.m.os.e.xuality in a positive light; it's legislated h.o.m.ophobia . . .'

'Is that what they do, then?' asks Spencer.

'Who?'

'Schools. Because I don't remember anyone teaching it at our school.'

'Well, no, they didn't, but . . .'

'So why's it such a big deal, then?'

'Yeah, I mean you turned out gay without being taught it,' says Tone.

'Yeah, well, that's true, Tone, that's a very good point. . .'