Crappily Ever After

by Louise Burness

  ‘Ha! I’d be happy to leave you alone. It’s leaving you with her, that’s the problem,’ Sam announces with disgust. ‘She doesn’t even do her eyebrows! God only knows what her bikini line is like!’

  Bitch! Just fine, thanks.

  ‘Sam, you are being offensive to the landlady. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

  ‘Fine,’ she hisses, ‘I was only trying to do you a favour anyway. I don’t need you. Oscar’s a lawyer,’ she adds childishly, before stropping over to her table, still holding on to her chest.

  ‘Come on Oscar, we’re leaving,’ she announces. Oscar reluctantly puts down his fork, which is halfway to his mouth and loaded with fish and chips. Sam snatches up her bag and turns as Mike calls out her name.

  ‘And you can keep the CDs if it means I never have to hear from you again. Besides, I know how much you secretly love S-Club Seven – I wouldn’t take them away from you.’ Phil high fives Mike. With a final flounce, Sam is gone, Oscar trailing obediently behind – no doubt with several whoops and a round of applause ringing in their ears.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Mike’s little speech about how I’m all he’d ask for in a woman has caused quite a stir in the restaurant. It changes the dynamic between us a bit, too. Largely due to Jean, Phil and a few of the others declaring that he must have meant it, even if it was subconsciously. I’m of the opinion that I was the first person he spotted whilst looking for an escape route. And besides, I am all he would look for in a woman: financially independent, hard working, don’t nag him and quite happy to spend my days off doing what he enjoys – in other words, trailing around the island, eating somewhere other than the place where we spend most of our time, and drinking copious amounts of wine. What’s not to like? But that does not mean he sees me in the way they mean. I analyse the statement:

  ‘Lucy is all I want in a woman.’ What? A woman friend – that’s what! I come back to it time and time again. I inform the others that they need to get out more.

  Mike notes my slight discomfort over the next few days. I make my excuses for going to bed straight after shifts and take myself off on daytrips around the island on days’ off. I do feel bad, leaving him staring after me, like a hurt bunny. Even if he did fancy me, which of course he doesn’t, he’s a no-go area because he is Becky’s ex. No way would she do that to me. I wouldn’t even consider doing it to her. I feel slightly uncomfortable about the whole situation. I want to make it crystal clear that I am not interested. I love Mike, just not in that way. I’m not actually interested in a relationship, full stop!

  Sunday’s busy lunch shift comes around. We are backed up with stock and waiting for a lull in the rush to have time to put it in the fridges. I feel even more awkward than usual today because last night Pablo, Mike, Jean, Phil and a couple of this week’s other regulars had a bit of a lock-in. Jean had dragged me off to the loo and had insisted that it was more obvious than ever that there was something between us. Mike had kissed me on the top of my head, and said how wonderful his life was now because of what we had. Yes, I’d insisted to Jean, what we have. That being, the restaurant, warm weather, all the food we can eat and all the alcohol we can drink. What more could a man want? OK, apart from the obvious. But we aren’t involved like that. Jean shrugs and gives me a smile that says, you’ll see. I’m beginning to get more than a little tired of the speculation.

  Anyway, Sunday lunchtime. Mike squeezes past me behind the bar, through the minute space left to work in. He places his hands on my waist to maneuver through. I give a little squeal and promptly spill the pint I am pouring all over the bar. Several customers dash out of the way.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ Mike asks exasperatedly. ‘Are you due on or something?’

  ‘No!’ I say, horrified, looking around at the smirking faces of the male punters. ‘But you’ll be due a kick in the knackers if you say anything like that again.’ The men surrounding the bar laugh loudly. I watch as Phil beckons Mike over. He leans over the bar so Phil can whisper into his ear. Mike nods, looks confused, then shakes his head and whispers something back to Phil. Phil whispers some more, this time with hand gestures to emphasise his point. Mike looks shocked, before glancing back over at me as realisation seems to dawn, and makes his way across the bar towards me. I may as well get this out of the way.

  ‘Look Mike,’ I begin, ‘I don’t think you fancy me, despite what everyone else thinks, and I’m sorry, but I don’t fancy you. I couldn’t anyway because of Becky, even if I did. Which, of course, I already mentioned, I don’t.’ I am aware that I’m babbling, but continue anyway. ‘You

  are an extremely good looking bloke and we are very compatible, but if we broke up it would be very awkward around here and… why… why is Phil gurning at me like that?’

  ‘I dunno.’ Mike throws a glance at Phil. ‘Probably because all he said was he thinks you need a holiday. But thanks for sharing,’ and he walks away.

  I cringe. Not to worry, that cleared that little issue up once and for all.

  Christmas passes in a blur and no days off. One day blends into the next. No time to feel awkward around Mike, so all is good once again. We barely have enough energy to crawl into our respective beds at the end of an evening.

  Our customers are having an absolute ball and we are raking in the cash. There will be plenty of time for rest in the New Year. The downside of the very busy times is that we don’t get to know our customers as well as in the quiet times. Still, they seem to be OK with that. They don’t know any different, as we haven’t been here long enough to have returning custom. So, I don’t feel too bad about it.

  Hogmanay comes around again. Hard to believe this time last year we didn’t even know all this was to happen. Mike and Becky, Nick and I had only just met. Such a lot has changed, and then changed again. Still, it has been far from dull.

  Mum, Mary and the kids are in a cab from the airport on their way for their Hogmanay holiday. I can’t wait to see them. I rush around wiping imaginary dust from everything and fuss over the menu. Mike laughs at me. The place is immaculate; I cleaned just after the cleaners left. And now I have a whole glorious week off. A loud clatter as the door swings open and hits the wall, accompanied by lots of excited chat, announces the arrival of my family. Josh and Jess immediately begin to investigate their surroundings, pulling on the beer taps and squirming away from my attempts of a hug.

  ‘This is gorgeous, Lucy,’ my Mum twirls around, smiling broadly at me. ‘Well done you.’

  ‘Yes, you’re not useless after all,’ says Mary in a surprised tone. Mike walks over to greet them all.

  ‘Woah!’ Mary looks at me in amazement and whispers, ‘you never told me Mike was fit! Have you… you know… yet?’

  ‘No!’ I reply, a little too loudly. I manage to attract the attention of Mum, Mike and half of the restaurant. ‘We’re not like that,’ I hiss.

  ‘You were so busted there,’ she laughs, and walks off to stop Jess from using our curtain as a Tarzan swing. ‘You should though… seriously,’ she throws over her shoulder.

  ‘Should what?’ enquires Mike, from behind me.

  ‘Oh… nothing, think you may have a fan, that’s all,’ I reply, a blush creeping up from my neck.

  The plan for this evening is for us all to have dinner and drinks together in the restaurant. Mike will be working with three bar staff and will float between there and kitchen, where another three are on. I’ll be on hand to pull a few pints if necessary, but we should have more than enough cover. We have dinner, the Specials today being my Mum and sister’s favourite meals and the usual kiddy junk food favourites. The karaoke party kicks off and Mary and I murder a few tunes. Several glasses of wine down and I forget that I’m making a complete idiot of myself. Well, I’m off home in a week, who cares? I won’t see any of these people again.

  It’s great to be on this side of the bar, looking objectively at our surroundings as a customer. Mike laughs at Mary and me, shaking his head in mock d
isapproval. Josh and Jess get up and sing Bon Jovi. They share my sister’s 1980s rock music fixation. To their delight, people start to throw Euros onto the stage. My sister mutters something about being entitled to twenty percent for being their agent.

  At the end of the evening, after dancing and singing ourselves out, we head off to put the kids to bed. We find Jess, bum in the air, fast asleep on a pile of coats. Jean’s coat is on top, now complete with dribble mark. Josh is enthusiastically throwing some shapes on the dance floor with Mike and has to be carried, yelling all the way upstairs to bed by Mary and I.

  ‘I’m not even tired,’ Mary sighs and shakes her head as we tuck the kids up in bed. ‘Best night I’ve had in ages. Shame it has to end.’

  ‘That’s where this comes in handy then,’ I smile and wave a baby monitor at Mary. ‘I bought it specially.’ We kiddy-proof the entire apartment, pulling out every plug socket and securing all the windows, and head back downstairs for a lock-in. Mike has assured Mary that he won’t drink more than a couple, having been flat out all night and only on his first sip of a pint. Mike is a serial insomniac. I regularly hear him creeping around in the night, not in a weird way, just making a hot chocolate at three in the morning kind of thing. I trust him completely with my niece and nephew. Seriously, even in a deep sleep, he’d hear a mouse fart in the next room. Mary relaxes and enjoys the evening, slurring to Mike that she’s going to marry him and drag him off back to Scotland. He leans in to Mary and whispers something. She looks at him in surprise, and laughs uproariously. Good, they’re getting on, I think. I feel a tiny pang; happiness, that’s what it is, and that’s what I want for my sister. She deserves it. I watch them giggle and feel nostalgic for that feeling. Maybe soon it will be down to one from the original crew? Well, I will have Pablo, if he doesn’t love Scotland too much.

  The week flies by far too quickly, as time off always does. Everyone has had a great time and the kids have taken to their first overseas holiday like ducks to water. My sister looks happier than she’s been in years, and attracted lots of attention from the Spaniards. She has a list of phone numbers from men hoping to take her out on a date when she comes back in July. She’s still flirting lots with Mike. She won’t call the Spaniards and Mike won’t be back here, I can feel it. Well, I’ll be fine on my own. I can do it. Maybe Pablo’s wife would help in the kitchen? I can try and arrange some childcare for the baby and after-school care for the other kids. Anyway, we’ll see. Tomorrow, I’m flying back with Mike and my family. This is our break until Easter. It feels really weird to be going home. I won’t be living with Mike. We are so used to each other; it feels like I’m missing a limb when he’s not around. Like an old, married couple, we even finish each other’s sentences. Nothing has been mentioned about travel plans this time. I want to suggest something, but don’t want Mike to get the wrong idea. But he will probably be down from Aberdeen to see Mary, so I will get to catch up on all his gossip. I decide I’ll head over to Dublin to see Becky. Just jump on a flight from Edinburgh airport. It will be a nightmare flying alone, but at least no-one will have to put up with my constant worrying. If it wasn’t for the fact that my sea sickness is worse than my fear of flying, I’d take the ferry. After all, I can swim but I cannot fly. Mike is hugely impressed that I’ll do it alone, but a flicker of worry crosses his face. I miss Becky and I want to catch up with her. I also feel like having a little chilled-out holiday before I go back to the craziness of home. It will also give Mary and Mike a chance to chat without me being around as a spare part on the train journey.

  I text Becky from the airport and she says of course its fine to come over and she can’t wait to see me. We all arrive back in Edinburgh and I head to the desk to see if I can book a last-minute flight. There is a flight to Dublin in just under two hours. I have to wait to see if it will be full. Probably not, they reckon; it‘s common for short flights to have one or two people not turn up as they’re often on business trips, and therefore don‘t care too much if they miss it and the company is paying the cost. I walk Mike and my family to the door of the airport. They will take the train home together and Mike will stay on until Aberdeen. I hug Mum, Mary and the kids and tell them I will see them in a few days. Mike hovers self-consciously, before leaning in for a hug. We share an awkward embrace and Mike goes to kiss my cheek at the same time as I go to kiss his, resulting in what is an embarrassing full-on smacker. I blush furiously and Mike fakes a coughing fit to cover his red face. Mary smiles slyly and gives me a sidelong glance.

  ‘Well, if you two are finished molesting each other, we’d best be off,’ Mum declares.

  ‘Good old Ma, always says what I want to,’ Mary giggles.

  After an awkward goodbye, I head back to the check-in desk. They have a seat on this flight. Great! I couldn‘t be bothered waiting around three hours for the next one. I head to the bar, via the toilet. This was the stupidest of stupid ideas, flying alone. My phone beeps.

  Becky: ‘Hi babes will be at airport to pick u up at 5. Cya then.’

  I put my phone away. It beeps again.

  Mike: ‘U OK? Worried bout u!’

  Me: ‘Cos I’m best snog u ever had? U after more?’

  Mike: ‘Ur Ma just asked what I’m laughing at. I’m gonna tell her.’

  Me: ‘NO!’

  Mike: ‘Yes!’

  Me: ‘NOOOOO!’

  Mike: Yes! Oops! Too late.’

  Me: Git! I shall never snog u again.’

  Mike: ‘Bet u wanna tho! Stay safe Hun. Text when u get thr. Miss ya.’

  I press Mike’s message to save. Why did I do that? I order another drink. Oh well, by the time he gets back he’ll have arranged a date with Mary. Fair play to him – she’s a real catch, even if she doesn’t think so. Another beep from my phone:

  Mary: ‘Chatting shit to the fox that is Michael. Seriously there’s sumat wrong wi u if u don’t fancy him!’

  Me: ‘He fancies u!’

  Then nothing, I switch off my phone and board the flight.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I arrive in Dublin just before teatime. I have never been to Ireland before. It reminds me a lot of Scotland. Very green, very lush and, if you’re listening with the ear of an outsider, you’d not have a clue what anyone is saying. I collect my case and head off to find Becky, pausing briefly to switch on my phone to text Mike, then Mary, to say I’ve arrived safely. No point in texting Mum, I’d only get a reply three months later asking where have I arrived safely to? Her phone is stuck on Caps Lock too. She never has been able to work it – and that was even before Josh messed about and put it all in French. She doesn’t do technology.

  It wasn’t too painful a flight. Barely in the air and then we were landing again. I was sat next to a grumpy-looking businessman who didn’t look like he’d take too kindly to any ‘what’s that noise?’ conversations. I had no choice but to get on with it and suffer through my pain. My phone beeps twice before I can even retrieve it from my bag.

  Mary: ‘Glad u r safe. Mike is such a shag. If u don’t I will!’

  Mike: ‘Glad ur ok. Weird without u. Fancy a wknd in Aberdeen soon?’

  I beam, and quickly type back that I’d love to. I feel a nice buzz. Mike does seem to fancy Mary, but she appears to be oblivious. It’s only natural that Mike would miss me as we spend all our time together. It’s nice to be missed, parting and sweet sorrows and the like. I walk through arrivals and hear an excited scream. I follow the noise with my eyes and see an ecstatic-looking Becky, waving frantically at me. I make my way towards her and she squeezes me like she’ll never let go.

  ‘I have so missed you,’ she announces, linking arms with me. ‘How are you? How’s the business?’

  ‘Better than ever – me and the business, that is,’ I smile. I feel a slight pang of guilt that she is no longer part of it, but she looks so happy. She definitely made the best decision for her, with the added bonus of no longer stinking of chip fat. We walk out towards her car. I stare in amazeme
nt as Becky points her key fob and unlocks a flashy red sporty number that Bob has bought her to apologise for shagging the girl from work.

  ‘Almost worth it,’ announces Becky. I laugh an attempt of agreement. I must admit that’s it’s a great gift to say sorry with. Though still not convinced it was worth it. Almost or otherwise. We drive to her house, chatting and laughing all the way. I’m relieved to see there’s no awkwardness between us. I think Mike being around would have affected things, but the old Becky and Lucy dynamic is still there.

  We arrive at Becky’s house and unload my case. I turn to take in the view.

  ‘Wow! Look at this place Becks, it’s gorgeous!’ And it is, even if I have only seen the outside so far. It screams wealthy, all leafy and suburban with imposingly grand homes surrounding us.

  ‘I know,’ she squeaks, and squeezes my arm. We walk into Becky’s gorgeous red brick three-storey town house. I take in the split-level front room with a deep, plush white rug over the polished original floorboards. Two squashy, red velvet sofas dominate the room and there, in the corner, is a state-of-the-art sound system that I wouldn’t even attempt to work out. The front room is massive, with a bay window that looks onto the private garden and duck pond. Up some spiral stairs, leading to nowhere, is a gallery. How frivolous to spend all that money on a staircase to nowhere. It overlooks the living room. Real paintings, not prints, each illuminated by individual lights, but low enough not to damage the paintings. It looks like something out of a London riverside show home. I am insanely jealous. I wander in awe into the kitchen. There is a huge Aga stove with a large wooden chopping block in the middle of the kitchen. Pots and pans hang from the beams. The worktops are marble and stainless steel fixtures gleam under the spotlights. I quickly move on to the bathroom, needing to drink it all in. There is a sunken jaccuzi bath surrounded by Jo Malone candles, gorgeous terracotta tiled floor and a massive wet room with power shower that could knock you off your feet if you weren’t expecting the force. There are five bedrooms, all in varying colour schemes, and a huge dining room with a twelve-seater table. Basically, everything I would ever dream of in a home.