Chapter 8

“You

okay, Curtis?”

“Of

course I am. Just had a bad night’s sleep, that’s all.” Sammy, another of his

flatmates, had been late back from a club and forgotten his front door key.

Curtis was the only decent bugger who’d get out of bed to let him in. Then the

couple next door had started one of their familiar and decibel-shattering

arguments about an hour later, and their bedroom abutted onto his. He usually

slept through it, but that night he lay awake on his bed for ages, even when

the row had ended. He listened to Sammy snoring downstairs on the sofa, never

having made it up to bed, and Jim mumbling Foo Fighter lyrics in his sleep

along the corridor. There were disadvantages to sharing with other blokes, but

Curtis would have never been able to afford to live in London otherwise. At

least Chandra was out of the house, on night shifts at the hospital, and Phiz

stayed overnight most days with his brainy boyfriend Bryan. Curtis liked the