Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

Adam Thorpe

before she realises. It is the girl’s in front. But Suzie’s hip-hop ringtone is ironic. She doesn’t even like straight hiphop. In fact, the phone is a Christmas present from her mum, who chose the ringtone herself – the first few bars of that big hit ‘So What’ by Field Mob and just-so- stunning Ciara from way back. Jasper’s phone rings like an old-fashioned dial telephone, something out of a 1950s black-and- white film. He’s so fucking hipster and it’s not ironic. Her best mate in the world looks up from his battered BlackBerry with its deliberately starred screen, as if a bullet’s hit it, blinking and staring around him. No, he must have dozed off. They went to bed about four, Friday night, after the party. Her mum didn’t wait up for

cold. ‘Spell that.’

‘Sake,’ she scoffed. ‘Stop pissing me over. And what are you? Fire?’ ‘I’m exactly what I am,’ he sighed, showing her the drawing. Which was brilliant, very soft and flowing it was, her hair like ripples of red weed, as if she’d drowned and he was remembering her alreadydead. Intertidal silt. A patch of red moss for her pubes. Mr Buckland for geography, the class watching for shrike with notepads in a freezing wind off the Wash. That one time they saw the bittern. Two of the girls shrieking and scaring it off. Suzie is startled out of her thoughts by her mobile’s hip-hop ringtone – she even reaches into her bag,

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