We Were On a Break

‘How are things going with work?’ he asked. He tore open his packet of crisps as I folded my empty bag into a neat square and wedged it underneath the condiment holder. ‘Not that busy?’

‘Busy enough,’ I replied. ‘But there’s only so much I can do on my own and I can’t afford to pay anyone else full-time. I’m doing the interior design and build for a new bar not that far from here, actually. We can have a look on the way back to the car if you want?’

‘Yeah, cool,’ Tom said. ‘You going to be down here working on it then?’

I nodded.

‘In a few weeks. I’m building everything in my workshop up at home but I’ll be coming down to install it, obviously. It’s going to be cool – the sign’s up already, Camp Bell on Norville Street? It’s a brother and sister who own it.’

‘I think I’ve seen it.’ He winced at a nasty tackle on the TV. ‘You should come and stay next time you’re down here. I’m really glad it’s working out for you, Ad. You’d have been miserable if you’d stuck with the law.’

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