𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵-𝘋𝘰𝘶𝘹

Chapter 2 - Hannah

Anglicisms to Americanisms: (There is quite a bit of British slang in this chapter, so I'll translate a few.)

Chavy: behaving, dressing or speaking in a way that you think shows a low social class and lack of education.

Innit: informal for 'isn't it'.

Cheesed off: exasperate, frustrate, or bore (someone).

Earful: a prolonged and angry reprimand.

Natter: talk casually, especially on unimportant matters; chat.

_ _ _

The truth is, I did have a boyfriend (but I'm not telling Mum that). But I don't anymore. I was too scared to introduce him to Mum, and it just got too overwhelming. When it actually came to having a boyfriend, it wasn't really what I thought it was going to be. Sure, we were close and could have a good conversation (still can), but it's not like there was anything more interesting about it. It was genuinely like having a good friend who you could make people jealous of-- which is not really useful or necessary. 

It's best Mum doesn't know.

As Daisy couldn't help me for the night, I called on the other of my two friends, and thankfully Hannah was able to have me over to her house. Looking up at her shabby mid terraced house, relief and the sense of familiar warmth envelopes me. We're both in the same situation: social housing, not enough money to live like normal people. Well, this is our normal. I ring the doorbell and hear shrill barking from her chihuahua, Butch, whose name we always take the mick out of.

I hear a muffled, 'SHUDDUP!', then the door opens to reveal Hannah, wearing lounge-wear and make-up. 'Oh, hey, Jojo!'

Hannah is a chav.  She has a heart of gold, would do anything for her friends and I love her to bits. But, she is a chav.

'Greetings,' I say as I enter. 'You alright?'

'Yeah, you? What's goin' on?' She asks in her south London accent, frowning, her dark eyes shining with a silent knowing.

'Mum.' It's all I have to say before Hannah immediately goes into epic friend mode, suggesting we have some kind of movie night with popcorn and sweets. Hannah is awesome; striking, kind but with a kick of spice. If you cheese Hannah off, you're in for it-- especially if you aren't close to her the way Daisy and I are. 

Her mum is at work - she's a nurse currently on night shifts - so Hannah is super happy for me to come round.

'It's so lonely without them here so often,' She explains, putting the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. 'Like, Butch is alrigh' company, but you know him, real yappy. And Rachel is always out at the club and stuff.'

'So Rory isn't here?' Rory is her dad, a cabbie. I am hoping he is, a bit of comic relief would make up for what happened earlier. Hannah tucks her lips in and looks at me apologetically.

'Nah, he had to go and pick up some drunks, the usual.' Hannah jumps on the sofa and gestures to me to sit on the other end and turns on the television. 'What d'you wanna watch?'

'How about Shaun Of The Dead?' I offer, smiling sweetly in hopes she'll say yes. Pouting her lips, she narrows her eyes.

''Ow 'bout Hot Fuzz instead for a change?'

'Mmmm, ok then, it is a good one.' 

'Same people, innit?' She says as she gets up and moves to the cupboards under the television, looking for the Hot Fuzz DVD. As she does, I look around at the cramped, cluttered and kind of untidy room.  I can't quite understand how they live with it. I mean, I guess they're used to it.  When we lived in the big house, everything had its place, was in its place and it was pristine. We did have cleaners, though. And the space!  Our new house, in comparison, is tiny and empty like a dentist's room. For some reason, most of our stuff disappeared when we moved to Tooting- my brother and I were only allowed to bring one suitcase of things that meant something to us. I was 5 and Jack was 8, so he helped me pack my suitcase with things I needed. Sitting in amongst the clutter, I realise I feel at home in Hannah's house. Our house is nothing of a home compared to Hannah's.