"Tony Morgan is a dick-head"
This statement sat just below the toilet roll holder in one of the cubicles in the ladies toilets, matched two other similar sentiments elsewhere in the school and entirely agreed with my own views on the subject.
Tony is my elder brother Greg's best friend, although the adjective and Tony did not sit well together in my mind, almost from the moment that Tony arrived at our school at the age of sixteen when his family moved into the area.
Physically they were both similar, around 6 ft tall, well-built and glowing with health from sport, a fact that was not lost on a number of admiring girls. But that was where the similarity ended, for while Greg was shy, Tony was an extrovert; he was charming, witty and confident to Greg's awkward silence.
For Greg, I think Tony provided the confidence to go out, to see pretty girls and to have a life, while Greg possibly provided a degree of caution to Tony's more excessive behaviour.
I dearly love my brother, so anyone who was his friend should have been good in my eyes, but for all his attractions, I never really took to him. You see, Tony was a chancer, a risk-taker; he was not afraid to try or to ask anything and he was not ashamed of a rejection, but it wasn't until their last year at school that I had a clear reason to dislike him.
I began to hear from other girls that Tony had no respect for the girls he dated; to him it seemed to be a game to take a girl out for an evening or two so that he could have his way with her, without regard to how she felt.
Some of the stories were about girls who had willingly played around a little, but had not wanted to take things too far, found themselves pressured or even forced to do more than they wanted. How he made them do sexual things despite the fact that they were in tears. How he had forcibly put his hands in their knickers despite their resistance. How he spread malicious stories about a girl being "easy" or having STDs.
The final straw was when he was at our house and, while Greg was upstairs, he came over to me with a smile on his face, complimented me on how I had really grown up since he had first seen me and that I was turning into a beautiful young woman. Then....well, I was still only fifteen and I was shocked. No one had ever done such a thing to me before, not even the boys who had taken me out had ever gone further than a clumsy kiss or an awkward embrace.
Fortunately he heard Greg coming down and moved away from me, but from that moment on, I disliked Tony Morgan. Whenever he came around to our house or I saw him at school, I avoided him.
****
Three years passed, during which time Greg and Tony both went to the same university, shared a house with others and finally graduated in the summer that I finished school.
Greg joined a large well-known accountancy firm for the start of three years of professional training while Tony went into the City, or more precisely he went to work for an investment bank. Given that he had always been a risk-taker, life as a currency or commodity dealer did seem to be a natural fit for him. Since both had gone to work in London, once more they shared a flat.
As for me, unfortunately I didn't manage to get the necessary grades to be accepted at my chosen university, but I did get accepted through clearing at the University of London. And so as autumn approached I duly became a student, living away from home and with independence that I had never had previously. I loved it.
I made friends easily, went out to parties, drank too much, met a succession of male students who appeared to make a bee-line to me and I had more than my fair share of late nights in a strange bed. I was buzzing.
I had never had so much attention from the guys. Sure I had had several boyfriends at school and I had already lost my virginity, but this just seemed to have gone into overdrive. My girl friends certainly didn't escape the interest of the men, but they did notice that I seemed to get that much more. They told me it was because I exuded sex appeal, that my walk was lithe and that my body was.....well, hot!
I honesty have no idea what it was and I certainly wasn't aware of doing anything deliberate. As for that "hot" body, I had curves of course, but I was only a 34B bra size (though admittedly set to stun, in the parlance of Star Trek) and I was fit and toned from the gym. I got my looks and my 5 ft 6 in height from my mum; I know from some of the photographs when she was younger, that she had been absolutely stunning, but I could only see my blemishes.
But hey! Let's not over-analyse it! I was loving it.
By the end of the spring term however, reality kicked in. I realised that I had somewhat overspent my student loan, all but eliminated my savings and that I could not expect any help from my parents since my father had become a victim of the recession -- he had lost his job, although he did manage to get some work, this was temporary and at a lower salary level.
And so I looked around for some work at the very time that pubs were closing, restaurants had fewer bookings and shops simply were not recruiting. In short, I was having no success and my finances were pretty much at breaking point.
Help came from an unexpected quarter. In my first week at University, I had joined a modern dance class for some exercise and a bit of fun, and I had become friendly with the regulars. I was rather bemoaning my financial plight with Katie, a second year student, and telling her how desperate I was getting,
"I don't know where to look next. I've gone to all the shops I can think of, tried restaurants, pubs....I don't know, it seems rather like an impossible dream" I shook my head in frustration, "you always hear about students working their way through Uni, but I don't see how they can; there's just nothing out there!"
"There's always something out there" Katie replied
"I've looked! There's nothing!" I shot back "and I'm desperate; my money has almost gone"
Katie looked at me, carefully considering me, but said nothing.
