Junk - Melvin Burgess [30]
I love her but sometimes I suspect her of being a closet Communist.
You may think I’m being a bit of a prat. I am. But I do actually think that it’s just possible that one day enough people will start to think, Why am I having such a bad time so often, and why is it so important for me to give other people a bad time in order to make sure that I can carry on having a bad time myself?
If I can get just a couple of bank clerks to start thinking they might as well stay in bed a bit more often, then I’ve done something to change the world. And if I can do it wearing enormous green boots with daisies painted on the toes, all the better.
I have to say it wasn’t the most successful stick-up I’ve ever done. There were too many distractions. Vonny was livid by the time we got home and Tar looked as though he’d been gimleted with a blunt skewer. I must have a word with him.
Gemma could barely stand up. Lovely life, isn’t it, sometimes?
‘How do you think her parents feel?’ asked Vonny. ‘They were just keeping her in. It’s not like Tar, is it?’
Well. The thing was, Vonny had a point.
Chapter Eight
Gemma
We were having a WILD TIME. Gluing the banks. Sharing the washing-up. Eating baked potatoes and beans for dinner every day. Wow.
Nah… it was all right, really. I was thinking too much. You know – where’s the wild parties, where’s the street life, where’s the CITY?
But then, Tar was having such a great time, that’s what made it all right. Honestly, I think he was in heaven. He liked everyone. He adored Richard. He even liked Vonny though she was obviously an enemy.
And, of course, he had me.
We could stay up as late as we liked and get up when we wanted. We could be together all day and all night. And I have to admit, it was pretty good. If Tar hadn’t been there I wouldn’t have lasted the day. But he was. So.
Since he had no money and they were feeding him, Tar had been doing the house up. Richard got his hands on several gallons of cream paint and Tar was getting up at nine every morning and slapping it on, room after room in a disgusting pale glub colour. Of course I was a dependant too. I hadn’t let on about my hundred pounds, no way – so I had to help him. I soon put a stop to the nine o’clock in the morning bit, though. We got up about midday. We spent the morning splashing about in bed and the afternoon splashing around in paint.
Since we’d started sleeping together I fancied him like mad and we kept having to stop to have a cuddle and a grope. Whenever I undressed I had painty fingermarks ALL OVER!
Tar’s great company. He must have thought about everything at some point or other, because he’s always got something to say. But he always listens. He stands there frowning with the effort of trying to work out what he’s missed, as if it’s all his fault and not just me saying something stupid, which it usually is. And he’s funny. I mean, he likes my jokes. We were falling around laughing half the time. We just got on together so well.
On the other hand he always had some annoying habits. I thought he was overdoing the being helpful bit. As far as I was concerned, all right, they were feeding us but we were working for our keep. It wasn’t just our own room we were doing. But Tar was so pathetically grateful and guilty, he spent half his time rushing about doing jobs for them, cooking, cleaning up, you name it. But the other thing – the thing that really got up my nose – was the endless discussions about Gemma.
It was Vonny who was behind it, of course. She was so bothered about deciding what was the right thing and then making sure someone else did it. She was the same with everyone, actually. She was always on at Jerry to do something – open more squats with Richard or clean the kitchen or make their bed or do the laundry. She didn’t have much luck there; all he wanted to do was sit around and get stoned. She had better luck with Tar. That got up my