Breeze and I

Hell, what a mess I've made of the whole bloody thing. If only I had
waited. If only I hadn't been in so much of an all fired hurry I could
have got away with it. I could be swanning it up now. New York, Monte
Carlo, the world would have been my oyster. But no, clever bugger me
had to go and press the bloody button, instead of waiting, waiting
another bloody minute. One minute that could have changed my life
forever.

Damn, damn, damn. Why didn't I listen to Breeze, he knew the score,
he'd said take your time, don't rush it. I bet he's there now, on a
yacht in the Indian Ocean, soaking up the sun and living the good life,
with nothing to worry about but what factor sun cream to put on. Even
then, there'll be a leggy blonde, fawning over him, massaging the stuff
in. He's a lucky sod that Breeze. If he fell in the Thames he'd come up
with a bloody great salmon in his pocket. There was that time at
Cheltenham; only a quid to his name, and he went through the card and
finished up with ten grand. I ask you, ten thousand quid, and all for a
one-pound coin. The lucky sod. But that's his middle name, Lucky.

I mean. His wife was taking him to the cleaners over the divorce; she'd
have left him with nothing; she'd have wiped him out, left him skint.
And then, out of the blue, bang, run over by a bus. Couldn't believe
it. Saved him a fortune. He didn't even have to pay for the funeral.
And the damages he got from the insurance was well into six figures.
Can't think exactly how much it was now, but a hell of a lot. But
that's him, that's Breeze; he is the luckiest man in the world. Didn't
rub off on me though. I've known him for ten years or so; knew him when
he had bugger all, and now look at him. He's rolling around the world
with champagne, caviar, big cars, top hotels and gorgeous women, and
there's me, broke. Well not quite.

If only. What a big word it is, if. Two sodding letters and
yet&;#8230;. How many people say that? If only. If only I
had&;#8230;.If only I hadn't&;#8230;If only. Huh&;#8230;too
bloody late now, can't help thinking though. What would I have done?
Well, I'd have changed the motor, that's for sure; you wouldn't see me
driving round in a G reg Cavalier any more. No, I'd have gone for a
Jag, or a BMW&;#8230;.or an Audi, one of them little sporty jobs. A
black one. That'd have pulled the birds. Could have got a new flat as
well. A trendy apartment in that new development near the docks would
have done nicely thank you. Breeze has one. He's let it out now, to
some Asian chap on the Stock Exchange. Pulling a grand and a half a
month for it. Not bad is it? Money straight into the bank, a grand and
a half a month, eighteen grand a year. Money goes to money they say.
He's proved it. Still, money doesn't bring happiness. That's a bloody
laugh. I bet Breeze is a damn sight happier than me right now. Who on
earth was daft enough to coin up that phrase, money doesn't bring
happiness? You can bet your life it was someone with no bloody money. I
bet Breeze isn't saying money don't bring happiness. No way. He'll not
be sitting with his feet up on the deck rail knocking back a large
brandy, with some blonde bimbo fanning him with a palm frond, saying
money isn't bringing me a great deal of happiness. More like he'll be
saying, hey girl, pass me another brandy, shaken not stirred. The lucky
sod. Oh why didn't I wait? Why? Why? Why bloody why? I knew she was
going to get home at half past. She'd have been there, waiting to
answer the phone, but I had to&;#8230;..Damn, damn, damn.

Patience. I suppose I never did have much patience. Even at school I
acted first and thought later. I suppose that's why I finished up where
I did, didn't bloody think. Always had to be the one at the front, the
trailblazer, the pathfinder, the one they all expected to take the
initiative, to take the lead, that was me. Dived in headfirst as usual,
everyone else waited, but not me. No I had to be clever didn't I?
Headfirst, literally. Broke my bloody neck. Well how was I to know
there were concrete blocks there? Oh, all right, Mathieson said wait
for me to get there. Don't go in on your own boys, he said, wait for
me. What an idiot. I know I got six extra months in Italy, but what
good were they? Six months in bloody hospital, six months wasted, no
wonder I didn't pass my exams. If I hadn't dived into that bloody
Italian lake, I wouldn't have broken my neck. And if I hadn't broken my
neck I'd have had a lot more chance of passing my exams, and probably
gone on to university. Huh, me at university? I could have though. I
could have got a degree. Breeze got a degree. I know it was only a
third, but he got one. Me? Two bloody GCSEs, Art and I.T. What a dummy.
If I'd have gone to university, then I'd have learnt a damn sight more.
I'd have done Shakespeare, that's a fact. And if I'd done Shakespeare I
would have been able to answer the bloody question. Instead I said I'd
phone a friend, and, typically, the bloody friend wasn't in. So I
pressed the sodding button.
And got it wrong.