“Hard to answer, isn’t it? What do you do?” Corey asked.
“Architect.”
“Ah. A proper job.”
“Being a waiter is a proper job.”
“Thank you. It is. I worked really hard. It just wasn’t what I saw myself doing.”
“What was that?”
“In my perfect world, rather than the one I actually live in? I’d write music, play the guitar and sing. The ultimately fruitless dream of thousands of wannabes. But I’m wise enough to know I’m never going to be able to make a living doing that so… waiter, cleaner, carer, shop work. I’ve been thinking about training for…something, but I’d have to study in my spare time. Not to be an architect though. Doesn’t it take ages to qualify?”
“Five years at university, two years practical experience. A minimum of seven years. In most cases, longer than that.”
“Like doctors. I suppose if you’re designing buildings people are going to live or work in, or bridges people and vehicles cross, you have to be sure they’re safe. No use something looking beautiful if it’s not practical and sturdy. What made you choose that for a job?”
“I can’t remember wanting to be anything else. I used to like drawing buildings when I was a child. Not trees or flowers or people.” He’d been obsessive about it, covering page after page with all sorts of structures. His father had burned all his drawings one night when Tal had refused to eat his dinner. Peas had been touching the chickenandthe asparagus. Tal had to have all food items separate on his plate. He knew how much it irritated his parents but he couldn’t help it. Now, he coped better. Though when eating on his own, he didn’t let different foods touch.
“Did you make the buildings too?”
“Models? Yes, I did. To scale.”
“I liked making dens using cushions off the couch, sheets I wasn’t supposed to touch and my mum’s clothes airer. There was always a problem with the roof sagging when I tried to make the shelter bigger. My ambition outstripped the materials.”
“Architects need to push boundaries at times. Though I’m not a fan of what happened in the mid-twentieth century, when the desire to transform cities and campuses outstripped available infrastructure.”
“Brutalism.”
Tal was impressed Corey knew what he was talking about.
“Concrete monstrosities,” Corey said. “There was a really ugly library in the town where I grew up.”
“Is it still there?”
“No, they put something almost as ugly in its place.”
“Were you an only child?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
“Does your family live in Cowdley?”
“No. I’m heading for an Airbnb.”
“Christmas with friends?”
“Yes.” If he counted books, TV and a rather nice bottle of wine he’d packed in his case. Pity it wasn’t a flask of coffee. He’d planned a supermarket shop for tomorrow but with no car, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, whether he’d still go through with his plans or get the AA, the Automobile Association, to take him home. The insurance company would provide a replacement vehicle but they needed somewhere to deliver it.
“Will they be wondering where you are?”
Who?Oh, the friends. That was the problem with lies. It required more lies and a confident delivery. “Probably.”
Corey had his phone out. “Still no signal.”
“Could be the weather.” Tal moved his case to the other hand so he could give his cold fingers a turn in his pocket.
