Hater

woman and her children. 'My name's Tina Murray,' she says, 'how can I help you?'
    I lean against the office door and watch the predictable charade being played out. Tina listens to the complaint, points out to the lady that she really shouldn't have been parked at Leftbank Place, then makes a phone call to 'see what she can do.' Ten minutes later and the clamp is removed. Tina looks fantastic and I look like an idiot. I knew it would happen like that.

    Five thirty-two.
    I run to the station and reach the platform just in time to see the next train leave.

3

    The one slight advantage of leaving the office late tonight was that, for once, I was able to get a seat on the train home. It's usually packed and I'm left standing in-between carriages, surrounded by other equally pissed-off travellers. I needed the space to help me relax and calm down tonight. While I was waiting on the platform I decided I should spend the journey home trying to work out what it is I actually want to do with my life and how I'm going to go about making it happen. I have similar useless discussions with myself on the way home at least once or twice every week. I was too tired to concentrate tonight. There were two girls sitting opposite me and their conversation about clothes, soap operas and who'd done what with whose boyfriend was far more interesting than anything I was thinking about.
    February. I hate this time of year. It's cold, wet and depressing. It's dark when I leave the house in the morning and it's dark when I get home at night. This time tomorrow, I keep reminding myself, it will be the weekend. Two days without work. I can't wait.
    I drag myself up the hill and around the corner into Calder Grove and I can finally see our home at the end of the road. It's not much but it's all we've got at the moment and it will have to do for now. We're on the council waiting list to get a bigger place but it'll probably be years before they move us. Now that Lizzie is working again we might finally be able to start saving so that we can put a deposit on a house of our own and get out of this apartment block. We'd planned to move a couple of years ago but she fell pregnant with Josh and everything got put on hold again. I love my kids but we didn't plan any of them. We were just starting to get back on our feet after having Edward and Ellis but then Josh came along and we found it hard to put food on the table, never mind money in the bank. We claim all the benefits we're entitled to and Harry, Lizzie's dad, helps us out now and again, but it's a constant struggle. It shouldn't have to be like this. Still, we get more help from Liz's dad than we do from my family. Mum's in Spain with her new boyfriend, my brother's in Australia and no-one's heard anything from Dad for three years now. The only time we hear from any of them is on the children's birthdays and at Christmas.
    There's a gang of kids under a broken street lamp in the alleyway which runs between two of the houses on my right. I see them there most nights, smoking and drinking and driving beat-up cars around the estate. I don't like them. They're trouble. I put my head down and walk a little faster. I worry about my children growing up round here. Calder Grove itself isn't that bad but some parts of this estate are rough and things are getting worse. The council is trying to run apartment blocks like ours down so they can flatten them and build new houses. There are six flats in our block - two on each floor - and only ours and one other is left occupied now. We try not to have anything to do with the people upstairs. I don't trust them. Gary and Chris, I think they're called. Two middle-aged men who live together on the top floor. They don't seem short of cash but neither of them ever seem to go out to work either. And there's a constant stream of visitors ringing their doorbell at all hours of the day and night. I'm sure they're selling something up there, but I don't think I want to know what it is.
    I finally reach the communal front door and let myself into the apartment block. The door sticks and then opens with a loud, ear-piercing creak which can probably be heard from halfway down the street. I've been trying to get the council to come and sort it out for months but they don't want to know, even though I work for them. Inside the building the entrance hall is dark and cold and my footsteps echo all around me. The kids hate this lobby and I understand why. They get scared out