Chapter 2

‘Sorry I’m late mate’, Matt said approaching Marco who had been waiting nervously outside Old street station since eight O’clock, looking up hopefully whenever someone emerged from the underground.
‘The tube bloody stopped. The bastards didn't say anything and left us sitting there like a bunch of pricks. I hope you haven't been waiting too long.’

‘Don't worry, I just arrived’ Marco said lying. It was 8:30 and he had been getting increasingly worried that he had been stood up. He had been ready, sitting in his room since about 6 and had arrived a little early just in case anything went wrong

‘Good one. Look I've organized to meet the guys at a pub just up the road. Let’s get going eh?’

Great Eastern Road. Marco gazed around him at all the concrete. Not a sign of green. It was worse than where he lived. Dirtier, endless brutal buildings thoughtlessly waved through sleepy council meetings in a time when aestheticism had been replaced by functionality. It was pitch black and drizzling slightly. The annoying level where it's not quite raining but not quite not raining. Where you’re forced into an endless cycle of raising and lowering your umbrella until you have reached your destination, still not entirely clear as to the state of the weather.

Turning abruptly into Charlotte Street everything seemed to change. London had a habit of doing that, Marco thought as he raced along trying to keep up with Matt. Seemingly shitty roads in seeming shitty areas would suddenly and for no apparent reason gentrify. Minicab companies replaced by boutiques. Estates replaced with million pound town houses with gleaming black iron railings. Charlotte Street was one of these streets. Once tumbling down brick buildings had been converted into expensive bars, fashion houses and design studios.

The Dragon hadn’t quite followed this trend. It was still shitty looking, still dilapidated. It squatted miserably on a corner of Charlotte Street, its red paint chipped walls and frosted windows seemingly untouched since the day the pub was born.

‘Here we are Mate’ Matt said pushing through the door. ‘Jaysus I’m dying for a piss!’

Following Matt inside Marco couldn’t help wondering why of all the bars in London, Matt had taken him to this dreary looking old man’s pub. One of a million generic and charmless London pubs. Fortunately things were a little better inside. On one of the bright pastel coloured walls a retired bike hung vertically down from the ceiling, a cyclist painted into position by an amateur artist with far too much time on their hands, fairy lights weaved between the spokes. Another wall was completely covered with black and white photography by some local artist who hoped some drunken reveller might supplement their order of a pint and a packet of crisps with a blurred nude.

The DJ, slightly obscured in a corner of the bar and seemingly oblivious to all around him was playing music which Marco couldn’t quite place.

‘Hello guys, nice of you to save us a seat’ Matt said approaching a group sitting on a set of retro couches in a corner next to the duke box. When he had first arrived in London, Marco had wandered up Portobello Road like a good tourist and had been amazed at how much this kind of furniture cost. Ancient coffee tables; chairs; lights for hundreds of quid. People paid a fortune for the kind of things which would be thrown out where he came from.

Trailing along behind Matt, Marco tried to look confident. He didn't feel it. Although he was lonely he had gotten used to not meeting new people. He knew who he knew and that was that. Nice and safe. These were the first new people he had met in months and he could feel himself tensing up.

‘Derry, Si, Abi, this is Marco a mate of mine from work; Marco- Derry, Si and Abi. You guys right for pints, Marco grab a seat mate, I’ll go for a piss and then I'll get us a drink.’
Marco picked up an empty chair from a neighbouring table and placed it in a gap next to Abi who seemed to be actively smiling in his direction. Shit, Marco thought holding his breath, wondering what these guys would think of him gate crashing whoever’s birthday it was. He knew Matt was doing him a favour inviting him out. They were friends at work, but with most people that was usually it. Come Friday night people generally ended up going their own way, meeting up with their own groups of friends. One night, maybe two or three weeks after starting at The Bistro, he had asked if anyone wanted to go for a drink after work. He could still hear the silence. A few people hadn’t said anything, a few had made mumbled excuses before leaving and Marco had been left sitting there feeling embarrassed. Matt had poured him a beer and sat with him for half an hour or so, chatting away cheerily as he tended to do, but Marco knew it had been out of pity.

‘So Marco, Matt said you're from Italy’ Abi said before Marco had fully settled in his chair. She moved her chair a little closer to Marco’s in order to be heard over the music. Marco could smell her perfume and had to force his mind back to the conversation.

‘Yes’ Marco said, pausing a little before he realised that he would have to do better than that to keep the conversation alive.

‘I’m from a little village near Treviso.’ Marco hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Talking to Matt at work was one thing. Talking to a beautiful girl in a crowded and noisy bar was another thing altogether.
‘Um, sorry’ Abi said taking a sip of her drink and looking smiling coyly. ‘I’m shit with geography. Where’s Treviso? North of South? All I really know about Italian geography is that it looks a bit like a boot.’
‘Don't worry, I still don’t know exactly where London is on the map’ Marco said smiling. But do you know where Venice is?’
‘Ah, shit, no not really, but I really want to go there but you know, its sort of one of those couple places isn’t it. Every time you see Venice there's always some annoyingly good looking couple drifting along in a gondola with some guy in a stripy shirt singing to them. I don't suppose it would be the same alone.’

Marco felt himself beginning to relax. The fact that he was speaking well and being understood made a big difference. He could focus on the conversation instead of what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. The moment he focused on what he had to say he stopped listening and then everything fell apart. Speaking was all about confidence to Marco. The speed at which he had finished his first pint certainly didn’t hurt either.

‘I think Venice is overrated’ Marco said trying to keep the momentum of the conversation going. It’s very beautiful but for me it's very touristic and a bit like a museum.’

‘Really? How so?’ Abi said shifting slightly in her chair and crossing her legs towards Marco. She was wearing a loose, sleeveless white t-shirt and tight black jeans tucked inside a pair of knee high boots with pointed toes. She looked so effortlessly beautiful Marco thought; as if she had thrown on what ever was Andy but it all seemed to work. It all sort of matched. Marco looked down at his slightly faded blue jeans; his styleless trainers; his shirt which had taken half an hour to iron and was now bunching up around his belt and wondered whether he should have worn something else.

‘It feels like nobody lives there any more’ Marco said, hoping Abi hadn’t noticed him staring at her. He hadn’t been staring at her in a sleazy way. It was more out of fascination. She was by far the most exotic women he had ever met. She was tall, or at least tallish looking; he hadn’t actually seen her stand up yet but she seemed tall. Tall and thin but not skinny.

‘It’s been taken over by chain stores and restaurants charging 10 Euros for a bad glass of wine. I think there are much nicer places to travel to in Italy. Places which are more local, where you can meet real Italians living as they have always lived. To me that’s important on a holiday. I just think that people go to Venice because they always have.’

‘Ah, maybe I won’t bother going then’ Abi said more in the form of a question than a statement.

‘No no I think you should go. It’s a beautiful looking city but just don’t expect too much from it that’s all.

‘And where is it again? ’
Venice is at top of Italy on the right hand side and Treviso is about half an hour’s drive from Venice. My village, Pontane, is in the hills near to Treviso, maybe 15 minutes drive.’

‘God it must be beautiful, what the hell are you doing here? Abi said laughing, taking another slow sip from her straw, slurping slightly at the ice in the bottom of the glass.
‘Yeah it is very beautiful there. We live half way up a hill overlooking the town. There aren't too many other houses around either. It's really green.’

Marco hadn’t really talked about home to anyone since arriving. He thought about it all the time but talking about it seemed to make it all the more real in his mind and he felt a wave of homesickness.
‘You must love London then eh? So where are you living?’
‘Stockwell’, Marco said, this time making no attempt to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
‘Jesus Christ what a jump.’ Abi said half seriously. ‘Talk about opposite poles. So do you miss home?’
‘Yeah I do a bit. It’s very strange because I never really thought about home when I was living there. And it's only two hours away by aeroplane. But I don't know. Sometimes I’m not sure what I’m doing here. I miss home but I don't want to go home but at the same time I don't feel very happy here. Sorry, I didn't come out to be negative, I must be boring you.’
‘Not at all Marco. I asked you didn't I? I don't suppose the weather is helping much either?’
‘I know, it's always cloudy here. It can't always be like this though can it?’
‘Don't worry there are about three days in summer when it's very hot and sunny and the trains break down and your flip flops stick to the road’ she said laughing.
Marco laughed with Abi, deciding not to ask flip flops were.
‘Look Marco, you don't have to pretend everything's brilliant all the time. Shit, everyone feels like that sometimes, especially in winter. Just try not to think about things too much and have a good time. I think it takes everyone who moves to London a good six months to a year before they feel like they really know the place. How long have you been here?’
‘Only about three months ‘
‘Ahhhhh he's a little baybee!’ Abi said laughing.
Marco grinned, taking another long sip from his pint in an attempt to keep his nerves steady.
‘The key to London Marco is to ignore the weather and get through the winter by going out as much as possible. You don't move to London for the weather. You move to London for the other things you know? The people; the bars; the restaurants; the clubs. The fact that there are thousands of other people in exactly the same stage of life as you are, all going through the same situations. London is never the same, it's alive, and it’s evolving. If you focus on that kind of stuff and try your hardest to ignore the weather you'll have a much better time. Besides, winter’s great. You have the perfect excuse to grab a newspaper and settle down in a nice warm pub for half a day. God I should be on the bloody London tourist board shouldn’t I.

‘You should but it’s good advice Abi, thanks.’ It was a relief for Marco to not only open up to someone about his situation and his feelings but also to receive some encouragement.

‘So where do you hang out at the moment’ Abi said casually before noticing Matt, who could obviously hear the conversation from his seat next to Marco, motioning with his eyes for her to change the subject. Matt had told her on the phone about Marco and how he had been having a bit of a rough time since arriving in London. She had actually been secretly worried that they would have to spend the entire night babysitting, having to speak child like English to be understood. Not that she really cared but it was not exactly what she wanted from a Saturday night. But fortunately it wasn't the case at all. She liked Marco. He was obviously a little low on confidence, kicked in the guts by the sheer enormity of moving from the Italian country side to Stockwell but that was no more than anyone in the same situation would feel.

‘Another beer Mate’ Matt said leaping up, hoping to deflect the course of the conversation.
‘Yes thanks’, Deri, Abi and Si shouted in unison.
‘No you bastards can get your own’ Matt replied winking at Marco and squeezing his way to the bar.

The Bar had filled up with bodies, settling anywhere where they could put their beers down. Why this bar was particularly busy Marco had no idea. There was nothing particularly redeeming about it. The music was nothing special or if it was, it could hardly be heard over the collective buzz of the bar. Perhaps it was the fact that it was London and it was Saturday night and that was enough of a reason. Between the sound of the music and the drone of a hundred conversations Marco had to move a little closer to Abi to make sure he could hear and be heard properly.

‘So are you from London?’ Marco asked Abi, fresh pint in hand and looking across at Matt who gave him a wink and a smile.
‘What was that?’
‘I asked where are you from? I know you're English, but you don't really look English.’
‘What are you saying?’ Abi said teasingly.
‘No, sorry what I meant was.’
‘Relax Marco, I'm taking the piss. My dad's English but my mum emigrated from Somalia when she was fifteen. I bet you've never met a Somalian before!’
‘No this is the first time’ Marco replied, catching himself staring at Abi again. God she’s breathtaking, he thought. And completely different to any of the other girls he had ever met. So casual; so easy to talk to.
‘Don't worry, you're my first ever real life Italian’, Abi said smiling.
‘What do you think’, Marco said, unsure whether Abi was flirting with him in the same way he was trying to do with her but hoping so.
‘I'm reserving judgement’
Marco looked momentarily confused.
‘Sorry sweetie, it means that I’ll let you know later on whether I like Italians or not. There's a long night ahead of us yet!’
‘Ah ok, yeah it's so hard learning English. You have so many expressions and as soon as you think you are making progress you find out that there are a million new things you don't know.’
‘I think it's really brave of you and you're doing really well.’
‘Thanks’ Marco said trying not to smile, ‘but you don't have to say that.’
‘No, I mean it. I've never done something like that, I don't know if I could. You know Matt lived in France for a year don't you?’
Marco looked over at Matt who was lost in another conversation. ‘He never really said anything specific but I’ve heard him mention France a few times.’
‘Well he did. He found it really tough. Apparently people were pretty awful to him down there.’

‘People can be so bloody ignorant. The boss at work is like that. He speaks to me as if I’m thick and then gets really pissed off when I don't understand him. The other day he was trying to talk to me and I couldn’t understand what he was saying. The restaurant was full and the kitchen was really noisy and he has a really difficult accent to understand. I had to ask him to repeat himself a couple of times and when he walked away I heard him say fucking foreigners to himself but loud enough that I could hear it.
‘Jesus what a prick’ Abi said, shocked. ‘Have you complained to someone?’
‘I can't. He's the boss and I need the job. Anyway he's just ignorant and there's no point getting myself worked up about it.’
‘That's very understanding of you, Abi said frowning. ‘I'd probably piss in his soup.’
Marco roared with laughter and the rest of the group looked across wondering what they were missing out on.
‘Don't worry you lot, we're talking about you not with you, aren’t we Marco’, Abi said patting Marco’s knee
‘That's right’ Marco said smiling and taking another sip from his beer.
‘So Matt told me you’re living in a kind of Resident's house. How's that then.’
‘It's alright but once I have enough cash to move into a flat I’ll do it. The guys who run the place are pretty rough.’
‘Really? How so?’
‘Well they’re racist and they treat my roommate very badly because he's ah…’
‘Ah?’
‘Black.’ Marco said nervously.
‘Christ relax Marco, I know I’m black, I'm happy I’m black, I’m not going to get offended.’
‘Yeah sorry, I was trying to be ah…’
‘Listen I know’ Abi said smiling and resting her hand on Marco’s arm. ‘So tell me about this room mate of yours’
‘He’s called Rob.’ Marco could still feel Abi's hand on his arm and he had to try hard to concentrate on the conversation. He didn’t know whether this was something she did with everyone or whether she was doing it purposefully to flirt with him.

‘Rob's black, and the managers seem to have a problem with black people. They treat him differently, you know if his rent is ever late, or that kind of thing they threaten to throw him out of the residence. They don’t do that to anyone else. They call him names behind his back in Italian, really horrible stuff.’
‘And what does Rob have to say about all this’ Abi said with a mixture of intrigue and revulsion.
‘He’s hardly there and he seems to ignore them. But I find it really hard to especially because I can understand what it is that they are saying about him in Italian. Unfortunately there's not much I can do at the moment. Like I told Matt, they got me a job and it's where I sleep so I really don’t have any other options.

Abi was about to reply when their conversation was interrupted by the lights coming on in the Bar.
‘Savages’ cried Matt, much to the amusement of everyone sitting around them.
‘Drink up guys’ the bar girl said in an accent which Marco couldn't place. ‘We’re closing in ten minutes!’
‘That's it?’ Marco said trying to hide his disappointment. He was having a great time and he didn’t want the night to be over yet.
‘Hah, you don't get out of it that easily’ Abi said, ‘Next stop the Liver Lounge.’
‘Where's that’
‘It's a club round the corner. It’s not bad, a little bit small but it’s cheap and it’s close and it’s open.’
‘Great’ Marco said relieved that the night wasn’t over yet. ‘But I'm not sure how I'll get home.’ Marco immediately kicked himself for saying something so conservative and cautious.
‘Don't you worry about that’, Abi said warmly and linking her arm through his. ‘We'll look after you’