When they hadn’t felt like riding into Bassington, they’d congregated in the grounds of the Water Tower; sometimes sharing cigs and drinking, but mostly laughing about the lads from the estate, or telling each other who they’d sleep with if they could. Charlene Conroy swore that Russ Gregory had shown her his d**k and he wasn’t as big as everyone thought he was. That was the trouble with Russ; he was just another mediocre man living a big pretence.
Most of the time, though, town was where they’d travelled to. It was only a short bus ride through Little Bassington, up the hill and into the centre; they’d dismount somewhere along the High Street (usually outside Dawn’s hair salon by Central Square) and walk the rest of the way. When the weather was kind, they’d spend their afternoons in the
