by Beth Thomas
‘Evening all, evening all,’ Rod says affably. ‘Evening, Abby, long time no see. How’s those forward and reverse gears going for you? Ho ho!’ He says this in a suggestive tone, as if he’s just made some really lewd but clever innuendo.
‘Same as they were this afternoon, Rod,’ Abs says, smilingly. ‘Come and sit down next to Daisy. All right, Fee?’
Fiona smiles as she’s addressed and moves to sit down beside Abs. ‘Oh, I’m fine Abby, thank you. I don’t know what use I’m going to be, it’s a long time since I was at school you know.’
‘Bloody long time!’ Rod bursts out, then looks at me pointedly. ‘Eh? Eh?’
I glance at him quickly and smile, then turn towards Abby with a look designed to kill. She’s reading the rules and it bounces uselessly off the top of her head.
The first round is a picture quiz. Ten pictures taken ridiculously close up, and we have to guess what they are. It’s like looking at a picture of the edge of a table, only really close up. Fun.
‘That one’s definitely an onion.’
‘No it isn’t. It looks more like an aeroplane propeller.’
‘No, Roderick, no, I really don’t think so, actually. That’s no more an aeroplane propeller than I am.’
‘Well it’s not a bloody onion.’
‘It’s either an onion or an open wound.’
I have a stealthy rummage in my bag for my phone and click onto Facebook. I so need to leave a status update about this, but when I look up I find Abby glaring at me with exactly the expression I was giving her earlier. I raise my eyebrows in a ‘What?’ face, but she just narrows her eyes and flicks them down at my phone. I return it to my bag.
Round two. Entertainment. How ironic. Rod’s talking about films.
‘Now, you see, the first Land Rover was not produced until 1949 …’
‘Oh dear God, not this tedious story again.’
‘… but the film makers of Ice Cold in Alex made a bit of a faux pas …’
‘No one cares, Roderick.’
‘It was set in 1941, right? So just what exactly was that Land Rover doing there? Answer me that one, eh?’
‘It’s not clever to Google famous film mistakes you know.’
‘Abby.’ I say it a bit too loudly and all three faces look round at me.
‘What?’
‘Where are the toilets?’
She frowns at me. ‘You can’t go right now, we’re in the middle of a round.’
‘I really don’t think my input will be missed for one and a half minutes. Or at all, frankly. Seriously, how many questions have I answered?’
‘Now, now, come on,’ Fee says, leaning over the table at me. ‘Doing a quiz isn’t about getting the answers right, you know.’
I squint at her. ‘It isn’t?’
‘Sshhh,’ Rod butts in aggressively.
We all look at him and Fiona pulls her cardigan more tightly round her with a sigh.
‘Sorry, Rod,’ Abby says, then looks at me meaningfully. I’m not entirely sure what the meaning is. ‘Just wait until the interval please,’ she stage-whispers.
Something’s off here. Abby’s acting odd, not looking at me, fiddling with a strand of hair, turning her face interestedly towards Rod, as if she’s actually listening to what he’s saying. I narrow my eyes at her, willing her to look at me, but she doesn’t.
‘What’s going on?’ I say eventually.
She looks up at me and smiles sweetly. ‘What?’
‘Something’s clearly up. I want to know what it is.’
‘It’s Shirley Bassey!’ Fiona shouts out suddenly, and I notice one or two heads at nearby tables turning in our direction, then excitedly going back to their answer sheets.
‘Keep your bloody voice down, woman,’ Rod hisses at her; then raises his head and announces to the room in a booming voice, ‘No it isn’t, it’s Sandie Shaw.’
‘No, Rod,’ Fee declares patiently, ‘I know for a fact it was Shirley Bassey. Sandie Shaw did “Puppet on a String”.’
Rod rolls his eyes, and moves on to the next question.
‘Well?’ I ask Abby. ‘What have you got planned? Please tell me you haven’t set me up with someone?’
She inhales and lets all the breath out slowly. ‘No. Well, kind of. In a way. There is someone I want you to meet …’
‘Oh Christ.’
‘Just wait until the end of round three. Please? Then I’ll explain everything.’
Round three is The Monarchy. How long can it last? ‘OK.’
‘Brilliant.’
Round two ends. Round three. Rod makes jokes about queens that are borderline inappropriate. Fee rolls her eyes and angles her body away from him to disassociate herself.
‘What legendary King Arthur of England was reputedly killed by his own son?’ says the disembodied voice through the speaker above our head.
Rod’s head snaps up and he frowns towards the bar. ‘For crying out loud …’
‘Ooh, no, oops, sorry,’ the voice says. ‘Given that one away there. No points for anyone for that one.’
‘Well that’s hardly fair,’ Rod says loudly. ‘I knew the answer but now have no advantage over everyone that didn’t.’
‘Not her fault, Rod. Anyone could make that mistake.’
‘Yes, well, that’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it? When I was in the army, we did quizzes all the time and no one ever …’
‘Right,’ the voice announces thirty years later, ‘that’s the end of round three. Round four will begin in fifteen minutes, to give you a chance to refill your glasses. But no swotting up on Legendary Quotes during the break.’
I stand up. ‘OK, Abs, can you please show me where the toilets are?’ I can pump her for answers away from Rod’s far too interested gaze.
She frowns up at me from her resolutely seated position. ‘Come on, Daze. You know very well where they are.’
I widen my eyes. ‘Abby. Toilets. Now.’
‘Oh. Right. OK.’ Incredibly, she gets up and walks away from our table, leaving me standing there, a bit dumbstruck. I think I might have just done an ‘Abby’.
In the ladies, she’s peering at her face in one of the mirrors, but as usual no adjustment is necessary. She turns away from her reflection to look at me as I come in.
‘Before you say anything,’ she says, putting a hand up, ‘I have not set you up with anyone.’
‘But you … Oh. What?’ I’ve stalled. I wasn’t expecting that. My pre-planned speech, that took me the entire journey from our table to the toilets, is apparently redundant.
‘Aha, you see,’ she says, grinning triumphantly. ‘You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.’
‘I wasn’t …’
‘Yes you were. You’re always assuming that I’m trying to control you, or run your life for you, but actually I’m not. I wouldn’t dream of interfering in that way, and I think it’s pretty unfair of you to think so.’
I lower my chin a little. ‘Oh God. You’re right. I’m sorry, Abs. I shouldn’t have assumed that you were trying to take over my life.’
‘I should think so.’
‘So there’s nothing going on here apart from a simple quiz? Even though Rod knows all the answers on his own so my presence here is, let’s be honest, pretty pointless. You’re still saying that my severely less than average general knowledge is the reason you asked me?’
She flicks her eyebrows up smugly. ‘I’ve sorted you out a job.’
After a few minutes’ mature and intelligent discussion on how she is not trying to control me or take over my life, we leave the ladies in silence, banging the door, and stomp back to our table.
‘Oh dear,’ Rod says loudly. ‘No through road? Eh? Hahahaha!’
‘Oh shut up, Rod,’ Fee interjects, then reddens aggressively.
‘Hi Abby,’ a male voice says behind me, and I look round. It’s a short bloke with sandy hair and freckles, wearing a white shirt and black waistcoat.
‘Hello, Alex,’ Abb
y says grumpily. ‘I’m afraid I might have wasted your time.’
‘Oh. Why’s that?’
‘Because the person I wanted you to interview isn’t interested in the job after all.’
‘Oh. Right. Well that’s a bloody shame. We’re really desperate.’
‘I know.’
‘And from what you said about her, she sounded like just the person.’
‘Yeah, well, she is, she’d be brilliant. But, you know, it’s not my place to arrange an interview for her, apparently. Apparently I’m a bossy, interfering control freak.’
‘What, because I asked you if you knew anyone that might want to work behind the bar?’
She nods. ‘Yes, apparently so. So, sorry, Alex, I know you were counting on her, but …’
‘Hold on a minute.’
They both turn to look at me.
I pause before I say the next words because I know that once I’ve said them, once they’re out there in the air, there’s no going back.
Abby puts her hands out to her sides, palm up. ‘What?’
Deep breath. Here goes. ‘I never said I wouldn’t do it.’
FOURTEEN
Abby Marcus
Wondering if I might have made a huge mistake …
Daisy Mack Yeah, you did.
Daisy Mack No, don’t worry, you didn’t.
Daisy Mack Actually, now that I think about it …
Daisy Mack No, no, it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything’s fine.
Georgia Ling You 2 crack me up! ;) <3 <3
So now I’m a barmaid. Or will be, tonight. What an extraordinary year this is turning out to be. For me, anyway. For barmaids the length and breadth of the country, it’s just another year being a barmaid. Unless they’re doing a parachute jump for charity or something. That’s quite extraordinary. For a barmaid. Not for someone in the paras, obviously.
When Abby had calmed down last night I went off for my interview with Alex, the bar manager. After a demanding and very probing question and answer session:
Alex: You’re over 18, aren’t you?
Me: Yes.
Alex: When can you start?
I finally emerged, exhausted but elated to learn that I had been successful.
I have to say, it didn’t feel much like a fantastic achievement. My skills and experience weren’t really gone into in any great detail. There was no psychometric profiling or IQ test. He didn’t even want to watch me pull a pint. But he agreed to give me a couple of weeks’ trial, starting the next night, so what could I say? Actually, Alex, I don’t think I’ll be very good at this? I don’t know if I can commit to full-time employment right now? You’re making a huge mistake? Don’t wanna? Just the thought of Abby’s reaction when she heard about that gave me chilly goosebumps all over.
It was fortunate, though, because my interview took place at exactly the same time as the rest of the quiz, so by the time I came back to the table, I had missed the end. Even if I did have to take rather a long detour via the beer garden.
‘Ah well, never mind,’ Fee was saying, doing her cardigan up. ‘Maybe we’ll have better luck next time.’
‘You think there’ll be a next time, after that appalling performance?’ Rod said loudly. ‘I don’t suppose our Abby here will be wanting us on her team again, will she? Eh? Eh?’
Abby smiled graciously. ‘Of course I will, Rod, don’t be daft.’
‘Right, great. Same time next week then is it?’
Even from a distance, I could see the panic in the whites of Abby’s eyes. ‘Oh, well, we’ll have to see …’
‘I’ll be working this time next week,’ I announced, arriving back. Abby’s face spread open in a delighted grin. Which made me so glad I had agreed to undergo that strenuous interview.
‘Oh Daze! You got it? That’s fantastic. Well done you.’
She hugged me tightly and offered to buy me a drink to celebrate, but I really just wanted to go home. Rod and Fiona were now sitting silently in their coats, so we decided to call it a night.
‘Remind me never to be forced by you to do a pub quiz with those two again,’ I said on the walk home. ‘Honestly, why didn’t you ask someone else to come?’
‘I did. Rod and Fiona were the only two who could make it at short notice.’
‘I can’t imagine why.’
‘And I needed a reason to get you into the pub.’
I turned to stare at her. ‘So the entire thing, the pub, the quiz, dragging Rod and Fiona out of their homes, pretending to care about getting the answers right – it was all just a ruse? To get me to that interview?’
She met my eyes and nodded solemnly. ‘Entirely.’ She grinned and slapped me on the arm. ‘It worked, though, didn’t it?!’ She then performed a little celebratory dance on the pavement, spinning round and punching the air, while chanting ‘I’m a genius, I’m such a genius.’ I felt a huge surge of affection for her as I watched, and couldn’t help but smile fondly.
And then I was once again stunned by her manipulative, controlling, underhand machinations.
So tonight is my first shift at the Den (as we employees like to call it) and I haven’t got a thing to wear. Smart black trousers, white shirt, Alex told me yesterday, which just about rules out all my jeans and tee shirts. And I don’t have anything else. But I’m too worried to worry about that. If I turn up in the wrong garb, I might get sacked. Is that possible, before you’ve even worked somewhere? Anyway, as reluctant or, let’s be honest, terrified as I am to go tonight, I don’t want to be sacked before I’ve even started. Abby’s right, I need to get back into the world and start taking care of myself again. I also know I need to face the other things lurking on the ‘TO DO’ list, like call Naomi and find a place to live, but those things have always been set firmly in my future, something that will probably happen to me one day, but might not; like my retirement, or going on holiday on my own. Or, let’s face it, my wedding.
The ‘TO DO’ list is looking a bit different though. The entry at the bottom about opening the letter from the solicitors has been crossed out (not by me, must have been the Black Marker Pen Fairy); and now I guess I can cross out the ‘Get a job’ entry. Although maybe I’ll leave that one for now. Just in case it all goes hideously wrong tonight. It would be soul-destroying to have to write it back in again. But I am feeling quite proud of myself right now, and of what I have achieved. All I’ve got to do now is find a flat and ring Naomi. (Plus of course ‘Look to the future’, ‘Focus on being positive’ and ‘Smile once a day, every day’). Wow, that was very easy to say. But actually doing it, actually finding and moving into a new place, on my own, and being completely alone for the first time in my entire life with no one to rely on or take care of or help me or talk to will be like finding cash on the pavement compared to talking to Nomes after all this time, with everything that’s happened. Of course she knows about what Graham has done with his will and everything, and about the ‘generous legacy’ he’s left me. What I don’t know, and ought to know but am not sure whether I want to know, is what she thinks of that. I haven’t heard from her, so I’m assuming she’s not outraged on my behalf and hasn’t stormed round to see Darren and demand he settles things differently. Of course she hasn’t. Why would she? She knows as well as I do that I didn’t really deserve anything anyway. But I need to speak to her, to understand, or to make her understand. Or just to say sorry. It’s going to be so hard.
‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?’
A man’s voice breaks into my thoughts and I look round. It’s Felix, of course, seeing as we’re currently walking along the canal bank in the sunshine. It’s a week since Danny went off on holiday and I’m counting the days until he comes back. Walking along here together, we would probably be talking about the Olympics, or the best way to increase stamina or build muscle definition or something. A really interesting, valid conversation. He’d be pumping his arms alongside me, breathing properly, in through the nose, blowing out thr
ough the mouth. As usual Felix has his hands in his pockets and looks like he should be whistling. He hasn’t said much so far this morning – I’ve heard his voice but haven’t really paid attention to the words. No doubt it will have been something about grass. Gripping.
‘Pardon?’
‘I said, let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.’ He raises his eyebrows and jerks his head slightly forwards, to indicate something along the path ahead of us. It’s the bridge over the motorway, of course. My nemesis. I let out a held breath. For a second there I thought he was somehow tapping into my thoughts, and was talking about my phone call to Naomi.
‘The bridge, you mean?’ I say, starting to feel anxiety closing its fist around my insides.
‘Yes. That’s why I said “bridge”.’
‘Oh. Right. OK. Yes. Sure.’ How can I tell him that I can’t possibly cross that bridge? He already thinks I’m pathetic, he won’t be supportive and kind, like Danny. He won’t hold my hand and put his other arm round my waist and hold me tightly with his lips so close to my face I can feel his soft breath on my cheek while I gibber and claw at the moon. I’m going to have to do it on my own. Beads of sweat break out on my lip and mild nausea starts to churn through me.
‘There’s a good walk on the other side that’ll take us past a couple of farms. It’ll make a nice change, I thought. Bit of different scenery to keep us interested. What do you think?’
I nod silently in terror, but as far as I’m concerned, there is no other side. I might as well try and think about what will happen to me after I’m dead.
When we arrive at the bridge, I’m feeling a little bit dizzy from breathing too fast and then holding my breath, but I’m determined not to stop. I know Felix has been watching me carefully during the approach, but I’m pretending not to have noticed. I’m not going to humiliate myself in front of this infuriating person, so I round the corner onto the concrete almost confidently. I say almost confidently: what I mean is I almost manage to look confident. One step into thin air, though, and I freeze.