Page 8 of Hot to Go

‘And how are we celebrating?’ he asks.

‘Come round? We can get a takeaway or something?’ I suggest.

‘Can do. We need to talk stag do too. I’ve got your costume,’ he tells me, far too excitedly.

I stand there looking at ice-cream van menus trying to summon up some excitement about this impending stag event. The fact is I’ve bought a plane ticket and I’ve even bought travel bottles of shower gel, but the thought still fills me with a tiny bit of dread. It’s a very laddish stag taking place on Mallorca with eight of his closest friends. I fear it will just be an orgy of all-day drinking and pranks and, unfortunately, I now know that costumes will be involved.

‘Are we really doing costumes?’

‘It will be fun.’

‘Is mine decent?’

‘It’s not the mankini.’

Well, that’s a plus. I think. Though this means someone will be wearing a mankini. I hope it’s not his plumber friend with the hairy back. ‘Come over at about seven when everyone else will be at home? Bring something…cold…’

‘Will do. Income tax, cash ISAs…’ he says in an elevated tone.

I smile as he hangs up and I return to my place in the queue.

‘I want that massive one with the bubblegum sauce and the sweets,’ a boy behind me says. ‘How much is that one?’

I turn to the side to see him and two other little boys count out their coins anxiously, doing quick maths in their heads. ‘We’re £1.50p short,’ one of them complains. With their matching football shirts, I’m going to hazard a guess that these three are thick as thieves and potentially brothers. Oh, to be little like that again, when this van was the greatest thing in theworld to have ever existed. I notice the eldest brother is in charge of the money, noting down choices and ensuring no one strays from the pavement. I relate to him instantly and smile, empathising with all that responsibility.

‘We could just get the small ones then?’ the middle brother says, hopping around as he chose not to wear shoes.

‘The baby ones?’ says the youngest.

I intervene cautiously. ‘So that one – does it have a bubblegum in it too?’

‘Yeah, at the bottom,’ one of the kids tells me, looking pleased that I’ve leant on his expertise in ice creams. ‘That one is the best but I like the Oreo one too. That one’s got chocolate sauce and Oreo crumbs but they all get stuck in your teeth. Depends if you have a date later on?’ he jokes with me.

‘I don’t actually,’ I reply. ‘I’m single. I got dumped.’

‘Oh. That sucks. Was she a moo-cow?’ asks the littlest brother.

I think that might be my favourite way that someone has ever described Krystal. ‘Yup. Kinda.’

‘Is that why you’re getting ice cream?’ the other brother asks me. ‘To make you happy again?’

All the brothers look up at me. We’re in this conversation now but I don’t really know how to answer. Also, the dumping happened about three months ago in the immediate aftermath of sock-cock-gate, over a pretty savage text where she called me a waste of time. Yeah, I don’t think they need to know about that. But pretty soon after the whole debacle, I realised Krystal was deeply self-obsessed, slightly toxic and not a very nice person, and maybe I should be aiming for more. For nice, at least.

‘No. Actually, I wanted to buy this for myself. I’m celebrating…’

‘On your own?’ one of the boys asks, looking around for whoI might be with. ‘That’s a bit sad.’ His brother nudges him in the ribs. ‘Is it your birthday?’

‘No. I’m celebrating because I got a new job today.’

This doesn’t elicit the happy response I thought it would. I guess when you’re little you don’t get the thrill of these things but today, I went for a job interview and a man I’d never met before told me I was quick-thinking, knowledgeable and personable – all the buzzwords – and he offered me a position there and then, on the spot. It’s a longer commute than my last school but it seems like a decent place, and I’m just glad to have a job to pay the bills.

‘What’s the job?’ one of the boys asks me. ‘Are you a businessman?’

‘No, have another guess.’

‘Accountant.’

‘Are you telling me I look boring?’ They don’t reply. ‘I’m a teacher.’

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