It’s a long wait. Me and Simon sit in the house trying To work out what Dave’s on about. How can he sort anything out for us, we haven’t got a clue. Simon says he’s got loads of contacts but to help us two out is going a bit further than we thought.

I can’t settle. I walk round the house, chainsmoking, turning tellies on and off. I want to do a bit of music but I can’t get into it. We just go around getting on each others nerves.
We have a massive argument. After a bit, we both start laughing at how stupid we are. Then we have a beer.

Dave gets home late. He tells us to come into the kitchen and sits down. He looks serious.

“Right lads”, he says. “You needn’t give yourselves up”.

“What?”.

“I’ve got contacts. I’ve managed to fix you up with jobs”.

“Where?”.

“Tenerife”.

Me and Simon look at each other. Our mouths are wide open. What the hell’s he on about?.

“You what”, asks Simon.

“Tenerife. You can fly there tomorrow”.

“What are you crapping on with”, asks Simon.

“I told you. I have contacts. One of which is a bloke from round here who owns a block of flats there”.

“Yeah?”.

“And he always needs people to help out. Especially at this time of year when there are loads of tourists there. You two’ll be dogsbodies. You’ll do whatever needs doing round the apartments. Digging, sweeping, cleaning up the puke of the lager louts like yourselves. And you’ll get paid a pittance for it”.

“How much?”.

“Dunno. Not much. But you’ll get your digs thrown in as well”.

“What?”.

“You’ll have a flat to share at the place where you’re working which is in Playa de las Americas. It’s the main resort. So you’ll be able to blend in with everyone”.

Me and Simon look at each other. I’m speechless. A job in the sun’s more that I could have imagined.

“Cheers, mate”, I tell him.

“That’s all right”.

We have a fag and loosen up. Simon leans back in his chair. Then I have a thought.

“But how do we book out tickets”.

“That’s easy”, says Dave. “Go to Gatwick and buy a late one there”.

“What with?”.

“Your credit cards”.

“What? But they’ll be able to trace that we’ve used them here”.
“Don’t worry about that. No one’ll check. By the time they find out, you’ll be gone”.

“Come on Dave”, says Simon. “You can’t let us do that”

“You’ve no choice”, says Dave, “I can’t afford to pay for your tickets so its either pay on credit card or give yourselves up”.

There’s no choice.

It’s a tense night, I can tell you. We decide not to risk going out so Dave brings back some beers. We pack up the small amount of stuff we’re got and get ready for the journey. Dave reckons that you can pick up late flights pretty easily as long as you have your passports with you.

The next morning we head off to Gatwick. Dave borrows a car and drives us there. I feel nervous. Every time I see a police car, I turn my head the other way and pretend to be anonymous. Its stupid, of course. We get dropped off.

Now we’re on our own. We decide not to make it too obvious by going into this late booking office separately. I go first. There’s one available this afternoon and the girl looks me up and down as I talk about it with her. I tell her that we’re meeting mates and are staying over there for a week. She tells me that its hot out there.

When I pay, it’s a nightmare. She swipes my car and tells me that it just has to be checked centrally. I’m sitting here nervously. It takes ages. Then she has to go off somewhere to talk to someone. I think I might

as well just get off and do a runner. The details on my credit card were obviously enough to trap me and she’s gone to report it to someone. I can see Simon standing outside and I try to wave to him to go but he doesn’t understand. This is it.

Then she comes back smiling. Everything’s all right. She hands me the tickets and tells me that the weather’s good. Hopes I have a good time.

Simon goes after me and the same happens. We’re going the same time. This afternoon,

We hang around Gatwick, having beers and wasting time. It’s a hell of a wait. We’re relieved that we’ve got out tickets but the longer we stay here, the more chance they‘ve got of catching us. We check our bags in, which goes without any problem. But we’re not there yet. We’ve got to get through customs and passport control. Both of those could cause all sorts of hassle.

I feel as tense as ever when I go through the scanner. I always manage to set them off and true to form the bell goes as soon as I walk through. The bloke calls me back and asks me to empty my pockets. There’s just some keys and dosh which he takes and tells me to go through again, There’s no problem this time. I stop crapping myself for a bit as I walk away.

At passport control the bloke takes ages. Or he seems to. He looks at the picture on my passport, which was taken when I had longer hair, and compares it with the Herbert standing in front of him with his short crop. After a bit he’s happy and lets me through. I don’t have any problems in customs.

I go to the bar. I buy a beer which I down in one. I need to. I lean against the bar and light a fag. I sit down and wait. We decided that we’d go straight through separately and I’m getting a bit worried because Simon’s taking longer that I thought he would. I have another beer and wander around a bit but there’s still no sign of him. We’re getting closer to the latest check in time.

I go for a pee, which is needed after the beers and sit waiting. Then at last I see Simon walk through. I wave to attract his attention.

“Don’t do that”, he says. “You’ll attract attention to us”.

“What happened?”.

“I only got searched at customs”.

“Brilliant. And what happened?”.

“Nothing”.

I buy another round and we sit in the departure lounge until our number’s called. We go over and stand in the queue waiting to be boarded. I start to remember how I hate this bit, how every holiday I’ve even been on has included this feeling. How the hell did I end up here? I’m about to get on that thing and expect it to get me to another place miles away.

I start to wish we’d never come. We file through out of the departure lounge and make our way onboard. I’m crapping myself. For the first time in weeks I’m not thinking about being arrested. There are more important things at hand, like how I hate doing this. We get on and strap ourselves in. The stewardesses are professional and there’s music on which makes you feel better. As we start to move, they play the usual video showing what to do in an emergency. Its funny how it seems reassuring.

And then we’re up. We start to speed up and I feel the ground move away. I shut my eyes and hold onto the seat. This is horrible. I hate it. Then the no smoking lights go off and we’re up here. I look out of the window at England and at last begin to feel a bit safer. I light a fag and relax. I can see Simon a few rows in front. He looks round and smiles.

I put the headphones that they give you on and start to flick around al the music stations. There’s some shite here. I find this soul station which I listen to for a bit. There are sitcoms on the telly and I start to watch Only Fools and Horses. The stewardesses bring round some beers. I suddenly think of something. I go over to Simon.

“Listen, mate. I think there’s something we need to sort out”.

“Yeah”.

“You know this abstinence things we agreed on”.

“What abstinence thing?”.

“You know, that we wouldn‘t get to know women too much because of giving it all away”.

“I only meant that we’d better not put ourselves at risk. I’ve been seeing people in Brighton”.

“You what?”.

“Yeah, there was this one at the club I was giving one for a bit. I thought you were as well with Katie”.

“Nah. I’ve been trying to stop myself”.

“Simon laughs. “I don’t know how you’ve done it”.

I start to laugh myself. I can’t believe what he’s just told me. I thought it was an agreement not to take risks.

“So”, I say. “That means we can play the field in Tenerife”.

“Too right. I can’t wait”.

This starts to get me excited, although I’m a bit frustrated as well. There was plenty of talent in Brighton and I know I could have been in there if I’d tried. But, then again, there’ll probably be more in Tenerife. As the pilot tells us that we’re over the Bay of Biscay, I find myself staring out of the window and feeling happy. We’ve escaped and when we get there we’ll have the biggest party ever. Things are getting better. Only a few more hours to go.