Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

Adam Thorpe

a bucket, the art world. She’s just gonna be nice to everyone . Especially foreigners. She is clinging to his woolly jumper’s sleeve. Then his fox eyes switch to the window, past her own face. She follows the glance, heart still pounding in shock, smelling his sleeve under her fingers: honey and marker ink and dope over a sour mustiness like her gran’s attic or old cake or her mum’s stale cinnamon biscuits in a tin. How did it get dark? Like, is the day on a switch now? Progress! He isn’t looking outside, he is looking at himself, reflected, a bit skeletal in the glare. Surprise surprise. She reallymissesGran right at this moment, who’d always be hunched over her cigarette, coughing and cackling, glass of

a whisper. You can’t do a falsetto, whispering. ‘Jasper!’ She slaps him on the thigh as he laughs, the rest of the train frowning and muttering (or so she imagines again, she can’t see them: it is like a vintage film in her imagination, the random people all pretending to be Muggles with rolled-up umbrellas and hats and ugly coats. Except for one, knitting, with a little grin). ‘I don’t like your fantasy, hey.’ ‘Oh, c’mon, c’mon.’ ‘What, c’mon?’ ‘Chill the fuck out, Suze.’ A proper snarl. And he is glaring at her as if she’s his enemy. He likes making enemies because he says it makes life more amusing and if you are stressed you can instantly take it out on someone. Crabs in

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