Walking home with Jude and Larimer was becoming a nice routine, as was the way Jude slung his arm over Anton’s shoulders as they reached their turning and said, “Game in the back garden, nancies?”
“Naff off, Kalinowski, I’d cream you if you took me on,” Larimer scoffed, and tripped on the lip of a manhole cover.
“Sure you would,” Jude sniggered.
“Can’t anyway,” Larimer said, righting himself. “Babysitting.”
“Which ones?”
“Sisters,” Larimer said.
“Unlucky! Go on then, f**k off,” Jude said genially, then leaned more heavily on the arm still around Anton’s shoulders. “What about you?”
“Um—”
“Kick-about in front of our goal again? Seeing as how you keep refusing to come to club and all…”
“I’ll have to get changed again,” Anton said. “And I have to start catching up on the English work
