Spider

by T E kessler

  He wasn’t going to answer her. She was nothing to him, and certainly not worthy of hearing his life story. She heaved herself out of the car, dragging her holdall with her, then bent down to peer into the car at him. ‘Thanks for—’

  But Yash reached over and pulled the door closed, cutting her off.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  She arrived home a little after eight in the morning, and the first thing she did was rush upstairs and into the shower. Somehow, the shower at Yash’s felt contaminated. Her water was cleaner.

  Inside the cubicle, she allowed herself to sob. The noise of the shower muffled any sound, but when she came out and wrapped herself up in a towel, she didn’t feel any cleaner. She felt Yash had soiled her forever. She could still feel the heat in her bottom, still sense his hands on her skin, taste her own fear and pain, and hear the noise of the belt as it thrashed her over and over.

  The hardest thing to remember, though, was that she wanted Yash to make love to her last night. Last night, she’d fallen, albeit for a short time, in love.

  Her clothes went straight into the laundry basket, and she dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt. Downstairs, her mum was sitting on the settee spooning corn flakes into her mouth. Her dad must have been in bed. His new job didn’t require him to work at the weekends and he would probably want to catch up on missed sleep.

  Beth went over to her mum and dropped a kiss on her head.

  ‘Want a coffee, Mum?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, please. When’s Tiswas on?’ Alison asked.

  Tiswas was a children’s TV show which had run every Saturday morning back in the seventies and eighties. Beth only knew about it because it was something her mum often asked about it. The first time Alison mentioned it, Steven had been in the room, and he’d explained to Beth that it had been something many kids had watched back then.

  ‘It isn’t on today,’ Beth said. She had once explained to her mum that the show had ended thirty years ago, and Alison had become quite upset because she couldn’t remember how thirty years had passed.

  In the kitchen, Beth put the kettle on for coffee. Opening the pantry door, she kicked an empty whiskey bottle that was laying in the floor. The bottle hadn’t been there the last time she’d been in the pantry. She watched it spin to the back of the cupboard.

  Beth was surprised that she didn’t feel angry. Instead, she felt sad. This was her dad, and he was an alcoholic. Beth bent to pick up the bottle. She put it on the shelf facing the door, so when the door opened the first thing he’d see would be the empty bottle. Even though she wasn’t going to confront her dad, she wanted him to know that she understood he’d been drinking. He needed to know that she knew.

  She grabbed the jar of coffee and closed the door on the offending bottle.

  The kettle had boiled, and Beth made two coffees.

  In the lounge, Beth placed them down on the coffee table. Alison was watching the news. The broadcaster was announcing that all protesters had been moved on by the police and London could resume to normal. The camera swept the area where the protesters had been, and the mess was horrific. Broken shop windows, graffiti, and discarded placards flawed the area. The camera swept over hordes of workers clearing up the litter. Someone was cleaning a wall riddled with graffiti and drawings of bug-eyed green men. The words read:

  The aliens are here.

  The Jelvias are aliens.

  Wake up, World!!

  Beth picked up the TV remote and turned the channel to a less depressing one.

  ‘Where have the Jelvias gone?’ asked Alison.

  ‘They haven’t gone anywhere, Mum. It’s the protesters that have gone.’

  Alison picked up her coffee, still staring at the screen. The Simpsons was on. Suddenly, she looked at Beth as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I knitted yesterday!’ She put her cup down and stood up. ‘I’ll show you.’ Then she ran off up the stairs.

  Beth’s phone bleeped an incoming text. Putting her coffee down, she went over to her handbag, still on the chair where she’d left it when she came in. She retrieved her mobile. The text was from an unknown number.

  Feeling thankful that it wasn’t from Yash, she opened it.

  Hi, Beth, it’s Harry. Can we meet up?

  Beth’s thumb hovered over the screen, but then she deleted it before she could reply. Harry was a nice guy and the kindest thing she could do was keep him in her past. Next, mainly to get her mind off Harry, she texted Yash that she’d arrived home. She didn’t want any excuse from him that she’d broken their deal.

  Dammit, Harry! she thought suddenly. Why now? Why not a year ago or even one month?

  After the strange evening she’d had she was surprised that there was room in her head for Harry. She was just putting her phone away when her mum came bounding down the stairs waving an oddly shaped knitted object.

  ‘It isn’t finished,’ she said. ‘Renia says it will be a scarf.’

  ‘How lovely,’ said Beth, taking the knitting in her hands. ‘Aren’t you clever?’

  Looking pleased with herself, Alison took the knitting back and placed it around her neck. It barely covered her nape, but with the garment on her neck, Alison sat back down and picked up her coffee.

  Beth couldn’t describe her emotions right now. So many things were circling her mind; it felt caged. She felt caged!

  Her love for her mother was immense, but then there was Lara’s absence, her dad’s drinking, Colin selling up, Yash, and now Harry.

  Dear sweet Harry, who didn’t deserve any of her baggage.

  ◆◆◆

  Beth wasn’t due for work until three p.m., and Saturday consisted of a supermarket shopping trip where Alison pushed the trolley while Beth picked out items and placed them in the cart. The self-service and scanners confused Alison, and she always complained that there weren’t any prices on the goods, but it was pointless explaining how supermarket shopping had evolved because she would never understand and so Beth agreed that it was a terrible shop and they’d never come back again. But of course, they did. Every Saturday morning.

  When they arrived home, Steven was awake and drinking a black coffee. He put it down and came out to the car to help carry in the shopping bags. Once everything was out of the car, Beth set about putting items away. She noticed the vodka bottle in the pantry was gone.

  ‘Good evening last night?’ Steven asked.

  She found herself colouring up. ‘Yes, it was, er, good.’

  ‘You need to do it more often, a young girl like you. Get out there and have fun.’ He wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘I was paid yesterday. Shall we treat ourselves to a day out on your day off?’

  ‘Let’s get some savings behind us first, Dad,’ she said.

  ‘You’re right.’ He rinsed his empty cup and placed it upside down on the draining board. He moved past her and Beth got a waft of stale alcohol fumes. He’d certainly had a drink last night, and Beth worried he’d drank while working.

  ‘Dad, you were doing really well laying off the drink,’ she said, hoping she wasn’t patronising—something he’d accused her of before. ‘I know it’s hard and I just want to say I’m proud of you.’

  He stopped at the door and gave her a sad smile. ‘I know I left the bottle of vodka in the pantry, love, and I know that you found it. I’m sorry. I hated not knowing where you were last night, and then you didn’t answer my text. I was worried about you.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ She rushed to him, and he engulfed her in a hug. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t answer your message. I only got it this morning. It’s so noisy in those clubs.’

  He rubbed her back. ‘I know, love. I'm just a silly old bugger.’

  Beth pulled away from him. ‘You need to get back to your AA meetings and talk to them about things like this. They’ll help.’

  ‘They can’t blot out how I feel or how I think.’

  ‘They worked before.’

  ‘Yes… I…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘W
hat is? The AA meetings or your feelings?’

  But Steven had walked away.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Beth viewed the Dog and Gun with fresh eyes when she arrived for her shift. It was a tired old place that seemed to attract the dysfunctional. Colin was right in leaving. If she were brave enough, she would too.

  There was a rowdy queue waiting to be served, so Beth jumped behind the bar, flinging her handbag and jacket under the counter.

  ‘Harry keeps phoning,’ Colin said to her in between serving drinks.

  ‘Has he found your replacement?’ Beth asked, sliding a frothing pint towards a bearded man who sported a t-shirt with the slogan: Bearded for her pleasure. She took his money and rang it into the till.

  ‘He wants to speak to you.’

  ‘Not interested,’ she said.

  But Colin was talking to a customer and couldn’t answer her. Beth served someone else.

  ‘I don’t think he’s going to give up on you. He’s smitten,’ Colin said, coming behind her to reach for a packet of crisps. ‘Christ, I hope it calms down today!’

  Beth placed a J20 and a cider on the bar and held out her hand for the money. ‘He’s been texting me, which I’m ignoring. You’d think he’d get the message.’

  ‘Why don’t you speak to him?’ Colin asked, then went to serve another customer waving a ten-pound note.

  After a hectic thirty minutes, it calmed down, and Beth was able to corner Colin about Harry’s phone call earlier.

  ‘Did you tell him I’m working today?’ she asked. Colin wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Beth groaned. ‘Oh, Col! Please don’t matchmake. Harry and I once had a relationship, but it didn’t work out, and frankly, he became a pain in the arse.’

  Colin looked horrified. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Phoning me, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Colin rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Well, I can’t stop him coming. Technically, he owns this pub. He’s our boss!’

  Beth pulled a face. ‘The company owns the pub,’ she amended as Colin raised his eyebrows at her. ‘But I don’t care. I haven’t the time for romance, Colin, you know that.’

  ‘Your life doesn’t begin and end with your mother and sister. You need to experience life a bit more.’

  She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Like running away to Majorca?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Phone!’ called Bronx, the part-time bargirl, holding the handsfree phone towards Beth.

  Beth turned away, tossing over her shoulder, ‘You answer it. Tell him I’m out.’

  Colin grabbed the phone from Bronx and pressed it into Beth’s hands, then he ushered the wide-eyed Bronx away. Scowling, Beth held the phone up to her ear.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Beth! At last! Hi, it’s Harry. Look, I’ll be quick because I’m seeing another client in an hour. Are you free for a chat later? There’s something I need to go over with you due to you being the senior bar staff.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, then felt silly for believing that he was interested in her. ‘Yes, of course, Harry.’

  ‘That’s great. Please bring all your certificates. Colin says you’ve taken various courses.’

  Beth felt all flustered. She’d been geared up to demand that he leave her alone, but he was acting all boss-like. ‘Y-yes. I’ve an NVQ 1 and 2 in Beverage Service and an NVQ 1 in Hospitality.’

  ‘Fantastic! Right, I’ll come by at about six.’

  ‘Sure, that’s fine. See you then.’

  She hung up as Colin came over with raised eyebrows.

  ‘It’s work-related. Nothing romantic going on at all—thank God!’ she said, but couldn’t help feeling disappointed nonetheless.

  Strangely though, when six o’clock came, she was feeling like a teenager on her first date. Harry arrived a little before six, shook hands with Colin and then with her. He looked serious, and Beth thought if he’d held any romantic notion for her, then it had well and truly dried up.

  ‘I noticed a coffee shop a few streets away. Fancy a pastry and a coffee?’ Harry asked her. ‘I like talking to my staff in a more relaxed area—isn’t that right, Colin?’

  ‘Eh? Oh, yes. Yes, of course. And it works very well,’ said Colin.

  ‘But what about your lounge?’ Beth asked Colin. That was where she sometimes spent her breaks, and Colin didn’t usually mind.

  ‘Not ideal,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘Right then, that’s sorted. Come on, Beth, I haven’t all evening,’ Harry said.

  Beth turned to glare at Colin as she pulled her jacket on. She grabbed the Tesco carrier bag which held her certificates and followed Harry out of the door and to his car.

  Harry barely spoke as they drove. He swung into a side street alongside the coffee shop.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said, turning off the engine. He looked at her and smiled. It was the first proper smile she’d had from him today. It sparkled his eyes and created creases in his cheeks, and she knew she’d been had.

  ‘You don’t want my certificates, do you?’

  He shook his head.

  Beth folded her arms and stared out of the window. ‘Then take me back to the pub. I’ve nothing to say to you.’

  ‘Except maybe, latte, cappuccino, or flat white? Maybe a flapjack, cinnamon whirl, or a Danish, too?’

  A small smile tugged at her mouth.

  Harry opened his door. ‘Come on, Beth, you owe me an explanation for why you blew me out five years ago.’

  ‘I dumped you for another man!’ she said, but he’d closed the door and headed towards the shop without waiting for her. She scrambled after him, muttering expletives. She rounded the corner and almost bumped into him. In the shop doorway, Harry pointed his car keys skywards, and they both heard his car lock. He looked down at her.

  ‘Dumped me for another man, eh?’ he said. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Maybe we’re engaged. Married, even! With kids!’

  ‘Married?’ He glanced at her hand. ‘No wedding ring.’

  ‘I don’t wear one. I’m a feminist.’

  He laughed. ‘How many kids do you have?’

  ‘Five!’

  ‘One of each?’

  ‘You bet—hey!’ Finally, she laughed. Harry laughed too, and then turned and pushed open the door. They trudged inside and found a table at the back.

  Later, nursing a pot of coffee between them and a selection of cakes, Harry told Beth that after he’d stormed off that day five years ago when she’d told him she’d slept with another man, Lara had called him on the phone and demanded that he come back to make up with Beth.

  ‘What did she say exactly?’ Beth cut in.

  ‘That you hadn’t stopped crying.’ A nerve twitched in his cheek. ‘I asked her covertly about this other man, but she didn’t know what I was talking about. Cheating isn’t you, Beth. I should’ve realised that, but I was so hurt I believed it.’

  Beth lowered her head. She remembered Lara catching her bawling on her bed after Harry had stormed away, and Beth had pretended she was ill, but Lara hadn’t believed her. Even as young as twelve, Lara had been very astute.

  ‘I made the other man up,’ she finally admitted. She raised her chin to look down her nose at him—but it didn’t work. Even sitting, he was much bigger than her. ‘I’m glad I did. If I told you the truth, you’d have talked me round.’

  ‘And the truth was?’

  She frowned at him. ‘Your dad… and the fact that you had to go to America. You had—have—so much going for you. You can’t be saddled with someone like me.’

  Harry closed his eyes, looking vexed.

  ‘And I was right, wasn’t I?’ Beth said. ‘Look at you; you’re doing so well for yourself. And look at me—working two jobs to keep my dad in vodka and pay for my sister’s college course and my mum in her respite centre.’

  Harry sighed. ‘You can’t keep making decisions for other people. And you don’t know how I spent those five years apart f
rom you. I might have got where I am a darn sight faster had you not dumped me!’

  Beth scowled at him. ‘You didn’t fight hard for me, though, did you? That proved I was right in letting you go!’

  Harry snorted. ‘You’ve no idea. I was so hurt by your—by what I thought was your betrayal. I was beyond distraught, but my aunt—my mum’s sister—was killed two days afterwards, and things… Well, you know better than anyone how events can take over your life.’

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry about your aunt,’ Beth said. She reached across the table to touch his hand. He turned his hand so their fingers were threaded together.

  ‘It hit my uncle hard, and my mum went to pieces, as you can imagine. It was almost a month after that when I felt that Lara might be right and there wasn’t another guy. I went to see you, but your house was empty.’

  ‘We’d moved.’

  ‘Obviously,’ he said, letting her pull her hand away from his. He picked up a Danish and looked at it mournfully before biting into it. ‘And left no forwarding address with your neighbours or anyone.’

  ‘We lost the house. Dad went bankrupt.’

  ‘Christ, Beth! I had no idea.’

  ‘Well, how could you? We lived in bed-and-breakfasts and hostels for a while. It was pretty awful, to be honest. As you know, Dad liked to flash his cash, and I didn’t know that the money was running out fast. Dad was spending our compensation. Lara’s money is safe in a trust fund until she’s twenty-one, but I handed over mine to Dad to help with the bills and things. I gave him full control of my money and our finances, and he blew the lot on fun times.’

  Harry had put his pastry down and was looking at her in a mixture of horror and pride.

  ‘You’ve been through so much, yet you’re still there, looking after your dad and your mum.’

  ‘How could I not be?’

  ‘Colin told me about Lara,’ he said softly.