they shared Yazz’s double bed and chatted before they went to sleep that first night with the lights off and the moon shining straight on to the bed, which made the night feel special to Yazz, especially when the nights were warm and the window was open
as they lay there, Yazz asked Courtney why she hadn’t visited the capital more often, you don’t know what you’ve been missing, babe
it’s because my parents don’t like London, Courtney replied, they think it’s a hellhole full of coloureds, suicide bombers, left-wingers, luvvies, gays and Polish immigrants, who deprive the hardworking men and women of this country of the chance to earn a good living; Dad gets all his political thoughts from the newspapers, quotes from them verbatim, although funnily enough he’s friends with Raj, the mechanic in the village, they drink together down the pub
when I call him a hypocrite, he says, it’s Raj, Courtney, he’s different
you can tell your dad from me that the British economy would collapse without immigrants to set higher working standards, Mum says give me a Polish plumber or electrician over homegrown workers any day
it makes no difference to him, he says they’re all the same, love, meaning all the people he hates
I can’t wait to see his face when I bring home a mixed-race baby
Yazz showed Courtney Peckham, Stockwell, Brixton, Streatham
as they walked down Brixton High Street, Courtney said she was going to faint at all the beefsteak on show, couldn’t help staring at the juicy buns on the boys whose jeans were so low they exposed almost their entire underpants
Yazz noticed that those ‘buns’ reciprocated Courtney’s attention, her creamy softness pouring ostentatiously over the top of her denim blouse
they stared at Courtney, not at Yazz, who wasn’t the one getting checked out as usual, and she usually got checked out a lot
not that she’s interested in the kind of male who belts their trousers underneath their bum
today it’s all about Courtney, who’s not even particularly hot and it’s like Yazz is invisible and her friend is an irresistible goddess
a white girl walking with a black girl is always seen as black-man-friendly
Yazz has been here before with other white mates
it makes her feel so
jaded
they arranged to meet up with Nenet at her family house behind Queensway
Nenet texted the directions, ‘around the corner from Hyde Park LOL’
they arrived at a large house behind a security gate and had to ring the bell to be let into a drive made of crunchy gravel
a maid wearing a black uniform with white pinafore let them into a hallway of marble floors, fountain, colonnades and a winding Hollywood staircase that went all the way up to a domed roof
Nenet came bounding down the stairs to greet them holding a tiny ball of fluffy white fur in her arms, her shih-tzu, Lady Maisie
here, she said, thrusting it at them, have a cuddle
Courtney was happy to oblige, even let it snuggle up to her face, cooing about how cute it was, being used to far worse with farm animals, Yazz imagined, like pigs and sticking her hands up cows’ anuses to release their constipated stools
she herself declined to touch it, not liking to get too close to things that licked their own bottoms clean
Nenet gave them a quick tour of the house, which Yazz thought was sick, as in obscenely rich sick not sick as in wonderful
Nenet apologized for her mother’s ostentatious taste in home decor, not for her wealth
please be careful what you touch, squaddies!
Yazz noticed Courtney acting as if she was honoured to have been allowed into Nenet’s life now that she’d seen how she lived
Nenet was now ‘Nenet who lives in a huge house near Hyde Park’, something Yazz couldn’t mentally undo or un-factor into her opinion of her friend
she realized that knowing someone comes from money isn’t the same as witnessing the extent of it in close proximity
they went for a walk in Hyde Park, strolled along the Serpentine in the sunshine
Yazz looked out at the blue lake and people enjoying themselves in pedalos and rowing boats
the path around it seemed to be a cruising strip for rich Arabs, the car park rammed with cars with doors that opened upwards and golden wheel hubs that could save the National Health Service
Nenet, who usually wore designer sportswear at uni, was clad in a tight top, short skirt, high heels, and looped over her shoulder was a Chanel bag with a gold chain
her body language changed whenever a group of young men approached to admiringly check her over, which they did without fail, what with her cascading black hair, gleaming brown skin and toned legs
this was her milieu, she was walking like a princess, a bit up herself
Nenet always insisted she was Mediterranean, much to Yazz’s amusement and Waris’s annoyance when she tried to convince them she wasn’t black or even African as her family were from Alexandria on the Egyptian coast
you’re African, Nenet, Waris lambasted her, go on, admit it, you’re an African woman, and she’d jump on Nenet and pretend to beat her up, the pair of them squealing like six-year-olds
the Serpentine cruisers ignored Yazz who was way too dark for them (yeh and they can piss off)
they boldly slow-stripped Courtney with their eyes as if she was a chambermaid
Courtney got off on it, loving the attention
Yazz didn’t want to break the news to her
the three of them discussed university in a way they didn’t when they were on campus, but somehow today felt different, their first year had passed, the long summer stretched ahead
Yazz and Courtney were going to spend it prepping for their second year by getting on top of their reading lists, that and summer jobs would keep them busy
Waris had already started an internship at a Wolverhampton charity for ex-offenders
Courtney was about to start work in a lifestyle farm shop in Suffolk that sold cookers for ten thousand pounds
Yazz was waitressing in a hip West End restaurant frequented by oligarchs, celebrities and Premier League footballers with their trophy wives, mistresses and escorts
she made notes on her phone for her future memoir
and took surreptitious photos with her iPhone
Nenet, who was getting off on being in her natural habitat and the centre of attention, confided that she wasn’t planning on doing any reading for her Art History course because – guess what?
she blurted out that she didn’t need to
and this is confidential so pleeeeaaase don’t tell a soul, especially not Waris, the truth is that I commission my essays from a retired academic
she turned to face them, expecting admiration, approval
Yazz was stunned, replied quietly, you’re supposed to work for your degree like everyone else, I didn’t know you were one of the cheats
it’s not cheating when everyone else is doing it
that doesn’t make it right and not everyone is at it
wake up, Yazz, people aren’t going to tell you, are they? Kadim’s MBA is costing him a fortune
Yazz wondered if their friendship could overcome Nenet’s cheating on top of her extreme privilege, it explained why she could binge-watch an entire Netflix series the night before an exam and still get an A+ for her coursework
Nenet was a spoilt, lazy and immoral princess who didn’t play by the rules and would do anything to hold on to her privilege, even marry someone picked by her parents
Yazz wondered if sharing the same corridor in halls and being one of the few brown girls on a white campus was really enough to keep the Unfuckwithables together post-university, or even into their second year, come to think of it
Yazz had to work hard, to lay the groundwork for the future because she’s got to be at the top of her game, and Courtney (or rather Roxane Gay) really was right, she can see that now, privilege is about context and circumstance