“No fucking way,” Brian said when he opened the toilet door and looked in.
Colin pushed past him to see for himself. Stiggy stood before a wall-mounted hand dryer, holding his Discharge T-shirt under it. His camouflage trousers were draped over a nearby sink, dripping water onto the floor. Stiggy’s socks were stuffed inside his canvas trainers, which lay by his bare feet.
“Oi, shut the fucking door, you’re making a draft,” Stiggy said. The dryer stopped, and he pushed a button with his forehead to restart it.
Colin closed the toilet door and stood with his back against it while Brian made his way to the urinal. Stiggy put his T-shirt on and reached for his trousers. He wrung them out in the sink and held them under the dryer.
“Aren’t you going to dry your underpants?” Colin asked. Brian laughed. He looked over his shoulder from the urinal.
“I did them first,” Stiggy said.
“Fucking hell,” Brian said. “I’m glad we waited before coming in now. You’d have put me off me piss stood there with your arse out.” He walked across to the sink and washed his hands, then splashed cold water on Stiggy’s bare legs.
“Fuck off, you cunt!” Stiggy shouted.
“You what?” Brian said, flicking more water at him. “Can’t hear you over the dryer.”
Stiggy swung the wet trousers at Brian. Brian dodged out of the way, laughing.
“Come on Col,” Brian said, “let’s leave him to it. I’m off home for me tea anyway. You out tomorrow?”
Colin shook his head. “Nah, I said I’d take me Gran to the cemetery to visit me Granddad, that always ends up upsetting her so I’ll probably stay in after that.”
“Ah, okay. I’m helping me dad all day Friday, so I guess I’ll see you at The Juggler’s Rest after tea then.”
Colin nodded. “Yeah. You reckon them birds will be there?”
Brian shrugged. “Don’t see why not, it was their idea.”
“Who’s this you’re on about?” Stiggy asked.
“Couple of birds we met earlier,” Colin said.
“What, punk birds, you mean?”
“No, mod ones,” Brian said. “Of course they were fucking punk birds. Who else would look twice at an ugly cunt like that?” he added, pointing at Colin.
“Fuck you,” Colin said with a grin. “It were me they fancied.”
“They felt sorry for you, more like.”
“So have they got a mate then?” Stiggy asked.
* * *
Continued next Friday.
Punk Faction by Marcus Blakeston is also available in paperback and ebook if you don’t want to wait that long.