I find Steph lying face down on her bed. She’s fully dressed and fast asleep. It’s beyond me how anyone can breathe with their face flattened into the pillow like that.

‘Wake up!’ I say, shaking her shoulder. ‘It’s ten o’clock.’

‘Okay, okay …’ She sits up groggily. ‘Oh God, I can’t believe I fell asleep again. I was going to come down to breakfast. I had a shower and got dressed and everything. Then I thought I’d just lie down and rest my eyes for a bit, and the next thing I know …’.

‘You shouldn’t stay awake all night doing Sudokus,’ I say disapprovingly. Now I really sound like her mother.

‘I wasn’t. I was bidding on this awesome Chanel evening bag on eBay. The bidding closed at three o’clock this morning. And I didn’t even get it. Someone outbid me by fifty dollars.’

‘Remind me to show you how to set your computer to bid automatically for you,’ I say. ‘But not now. I want you to come with me to put up these notices around town. I’m a bit skaam to go on my own.’

‘What are they?’ Steph asks, running a brush through her hair.

I pass her one to read, feeling slightly shy.

‘Wow!’ she says. ‘These are really professional. How did you make them?’

‘I had them printed and laminated in Joburg.’

‘Mature student offers professional baby-sitting service’, she reads, running her finger down my ad. ‘Eight years experience. Certificate in infant CPR. Age-appropriate stimulation. Birth to 14 years.’ She looks up at me with a concerned frown. ‘But Trinity … you’re not a mature student.’

‘I’m very mature,’ I say, slightly offended.

‘No, no. I mean … you’re not old. A mature student is someone who is older than normal. Like 21 or something. Or even older.’

‘Oh,’ I say, flummoxed. ‘I didn’t know that. I’ll just have to dress older then. If I put my hair up and wear a suit and high heels, I can look twenty-one.’

‘It’s not just that.’ Steph looks at me worriedly. ‘This CPR course. And the eight years experience. Is any of it true? I mean … how can you have had eight years experience of baby-sitting? You would’ve had to have started when you were, like, ten years old.’

‘I did! I’ve been doing paid baby-sitting since I was ten. Okay, so it was just for my little cousins. And their dad was there the whole time. But I looked after them completely on my own. And I’ve been taking courses in childcare since I turned sixteen. That’s how I make my money. I’m a baby-sitter.’

‘Wow, that’s really impressive!’ Steph looks at me as though she’s seeing me for the first time. ‘Are you sure you want to keep it up at varsity, though? I mean – we’re here to study and have fun. Not work.’

‘Of course I want to keep it up. I need the money.’

‘You need the … what?’ She sounds as though she can’t quite believe her ears.

‘I need the money! What? Why are you looking at me like that?’

Steph claps a hand over her mouth as though she’s trying not to laugh.

‘Stop that! It’s true. I need the money.’

‘Trinity … I don’t want to be rude or anything, but your allowance is already … well, basically … huge. How can you need the money?’

‘I’m a high-maintenance girl. You can’t afford designer clothes on a student allowance. Not even a big one. Baby-sitting is where my real money comes from.’

‘Okay …’ She holds up her hands in surrender. ‘If you say so. What’s this little dinges for then?’ She is sticking her fingers into the hard plastic pocket at the bottom of my notice.

‘That’s my card holder. Every few weeks I’ll go round to all my posters and fill them up with business cards.’

‘You have business cards?’ she asks faintly.

‘Of course. Check it out. Aren’t these the coolest?’ I hand over one of my deluxe, satin weave, raised-ink, embossed business cards.

‘The Baby Whisperer. Is that what you call yourself?’

‘Yup. Just finished up the paperwork to register myself as a close corporation.’

‘Amazing.’

‘It is quite!’ I agree happily. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a CC. It’s been my dream.’ One of them, anyway.

Steph points at the prices I’ve listed. ‘Isn’t this is a bit steep for an evening’s baby-sitting though?’

‘That’s not for the whole evening!’ I say, shocked. ‘That’s my hourly rate.’

‘Your hourly rate? Okay, now I really think you’ve lost it. Who do you think can afford that kind of money for baby-sitting? This is Grahamstown, you know, not Joburg.’

‘You’d be surprised how desperate parents get to have a break from their kids.’

‘But lecturers don’t have any money. Everyone knows that.’

‘Exactly. And that’s why I’m not putting my posters up at the university. I’ve got a list here of all the doctors’ rooms, attorneys’ offices, and advocates’ chambers in town. If there are any big fish hiding in this little pond, I’m going to net them. And speaking of which – can we get going now?’

‘Sure. I’m ready.’

We both take one last look in the mirror before heading out the door and down the passage. We get halfway down the stairs before we stop simultaneously.

‘Shouldn’t we …?’ I start.

‘…invite the gang?’ she finishes.

The ‘gang’ is this group of first-year girls we’ve started hanging out with. Their names are Soraya, Kealiboga, Tyler, Tayla and Kayla. And, yes, it does get confusing. Still, it could have been worse. Mom says that when she was at varsity, all the girls were called Mandy, Sandy or Wendy.

When you’re part of the ‘gang’, you do everything together. And I mean everything. Someone is always knocking on your door to announce that the gang is going down to the Student Union for a drink, or to Kaif for a chocolate, or to Prospect Field for a picnic, and do you want to come along? It’s just a matter of time before we all start going to the loo for group wees too.

Steph and I look at each other.

‘Nah!’ we say at exactly the same time. Then we link arms and head out into the sunshine.

Tell us what you think: Do you like having a ‘gang’ to do ‘everything’ with like Trinity?