Page 4 of The Way We Are Now

‘Next week that, Frankie boy,’ Fliss retorted irritably, wiping rain from her face. ‘Right, I’m off.’ She slung her wooden placard over her right shoulder like one of the seven dwarves setting off to work. ‘Had enough of this protesting lark for today. Only came along because you should try everything at least once.’

‘What, even sex with Ken Barlow?’

‘Why not?’ Fliss grinned back. ‘If I was two or three ciders down and in the mood, I’d probably go for a threesome with him and Deirdre.’ Fliss was always up for anything and, while not a political animal, had declared, when I asked her to make up numbers, that she really ought to get involved in at least one student protest during her time at university so she would have something to boast about to any future idealistic children she might have. ‘Coming, Anna?’

I turned to look at Frank, defeat and disappointment clinging to every part of him like a cheap suit. ‘Sorry, Frank…’ I chucked my peeling cardboard placard into the nearest bin and wiped my damp hands on my duffle coat before shoving them deep into the pockets. I needed a new pair of gloves – I’d lost one or both of every pair I’d ever owned.

‘But you said we could get together and you’d let me read you my essay on the Theory of the State, Anna. I think it’s particularly deep and well informed. I also think you could learn a lot from it – help you with your own essay…’

‘Need to get to a chemist, Frank,’ I called over my shoulder. ‘Sorry… You know… time of the month…?’

‘Time?’ Frank looked studiously at his watch before the penny dropped. ‘Oh, right.’ His face flushed crimson. ‘Well, maybe later? Shall I call round this evening then? Or meet you in the library?’

‘You really shouldn’t encourage him, Anna,’ Fliss admonished as she took my arm and hurried me across the busy city centre towards Boar Lane. ‘He’s in love with you. You do know that. And he’s such a tosser.’

‘How do I encourage him?’ I asked, put out at being told off.

‘Well, all this bloody protesting and marching. You could have refused to play along with it. With him…’

‘Excuse me,’ I snapped crossly. ‘It was my idea to march today. He played along with me.’

‘Anna, he’d do anything for you. You know that. He’s been following you around like a lost soul ever since he first set eyes on you in the lecture theatre that first week of term last year.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want me to do.’

‘As I said, don’t encourage him.’ Fliss gave me a friendly nudge in the ribs. ‘Come on – food.’

‘I shouldn’t be wasting my money on burgers,’ I said, slightly mollified. ‘I’m broke. I can’t see my grant lasting until the end of term.’

Fliss gave me one of her looks. ‘I’d have thought with your dad only being a miner, you’d have been getting a fairly good grant.’

‘What d’you mean only a miner?’

‘Well, you know…’ Fliss trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

‘So, my dad spending ten hours underground like a bloody mole so your financier dad can have gas and electricity to heat and light his posh offices in London makes him inferior, less of a person, does it?’

‘I didn’t mean that at all. God, you’re uppity. No wonder you’re studying politics. All I’m saying is, that because my dad does earn more than most, I don’t get much of a grant. I’m dependent on him to give me what he thinks I need.’

‘And?’

‘And he doesn’t always cough up when he should. Spends his money on fast cars and mucky women.’

‘Mucky women?’ I laughed at that. ‘That’s a right Yorkshire phrase if ever I heard it.’

‘You know what I mean. Once he’s shelled out the school fees for my three brothers, given Mum her share of the divorce settlement – and she’s always demanding more – and paid an extortionate amount for the flat he now rents in Chelsea, there’s not a huge amount coming my way…’ Fliss stopped talking, halting suddenly in front of one of the university’s office windows. ‘Well, fortuitous or what?’

‘And coming out with words like that, I can see why you’re studying English.’ I laughed, moving over to where Fliss had come to a standstill and was scrabbling in her bag for pencil and paper.

‘There you go,’ she said. ‘We both need more of the old spondoolies if we’re going to survive the term and not end up frozen to death on the mean streets of Leeds like the Little Match Girl.’

‘She froze to death on the streets of Leeds?’ I was momentarily taken aback. ‘I always thought it was Copenhagen or somewhere round that neck of the woods.’

‘Are you listening?’ Fliss elbowed me, pointing a red woollen finger at a typewritten notice in the window. ‘Look.’

‘Cleaners wanted? Is that it?’

‘Yep.’