by West, Sam
Tim and Beth were already at the bar.
The four of them were the only customers in there.
“Do you have a wine list?” Beth was asking the old lady behind the chest height bar.
Craig cringed.
Oh Jeez Louise…
The old woman shook her head. When Craig drew closer he realised she wasn’t that old. She was stooped, and had obviously dyed blonde hair pulled up in a bun. On second glance she looked nearer fifty than eighty. Her mouth looked sunken from lack of front teeth, maybe that was what made her look so ancient.
“Well, I’ll have a pint of bitter. Better make that two,” Tim said, nodding towards Craig. “Jessie? What would you like?”
“Just an orange juice thanks.”
“Me too,” Beth added. “With a double vodka, seeing as the staff here wouldn’t know a decent wine if it came up and bit them on the…”
“Beth!” Craig snapped. “Come and sit down with me, let Tim bring the drinks over.”
Craig was mad at her. Why couldn’t she behave like Jessie? He hadn’t known she was this bad.
Well, he hardly knew her at all, not really. All he knew was she liked having her tits sucked when she rode him, she took her coffee black and she listened to the kind of crappy, boy band pop music that made him want to kill himself.
Shit, he should’ve dumped her for that alone, not invited her away on holiday with them. But Tim had kept on and on with the, ‘you gotta bring someone.’ So he had.
What a huge fucking mistake.
“I’ve got blisters on my fucking blisters,” she moaned, kicking off a brown walking boot to massage her foot.
He studied her face. How did he ever think she was cute? Her features were all scrunched up, kind of reminding him of a gerbil. Her nose was short and snub, her eyes small and close set and her mouth narrow. Her chin was weak and without makeup, or in this case, with smudged makeup, she was amazingly plain. Her roots needed doing too, he duly noted. There was a dark line along the parting of her long blonde hair.
She had a banging body though. She was short and slim, but she rocked the most perfect curves Craig had ever seen. Her tits were full and high, her waist tiny. All four of them wore the same bright blue, pull on rainmacs that they had picked up cheaply in a gift shop in St Ives for this hike. Yet Beth still managed to look like she should be starring in some sleazy pop video, shaking her booty.
Tim came up with the drinks.
“The lady behind the bar says they’ve stopped serving lunch but her husband is still in the kitchen and she’s gonna ask him to rustle us up some sandwiches.”
“I would hardly call that withered old thing a lady,” Beth scoffed.
“Oh come on Beth, she’ll hear you,” Craig hissed.
“I don’t care,” she said in a loud voice. “I’m hungry. I’m sure her husband hasn’t got anything better to do, we’re doing them a favour, I doubt they see much business.”
The sound of a throat clearing made them all snap round their heads.
“Michael says he’ll be happy to make you something to eat.”
All four of them stared at her. Craig almost choked on his beer when he saw that the old hag was unmistakably pregnant. The flowing, patchwork skirt she wore billowed out from her heavily pregnant belly. It looked like she might drop at any second.
Jessie, dear, sweet Jessie was the one that knew what to say.
“Oh, you’re expecting, congratulations. You must be due soon. Is this your first?”
But she’s fucking ancient, Craig thought, how is that even possible?
“I’m due anytime now. And no my queen, it’s most definitely not my first. Are you folks here on holiday?”
Tim was the next to speak. He appeared to have sufficiently composed himself and his easy charm was back. He threw the old lady one of his special ‘Tim’ smiles, a smile that cracked open his entire face and made knickers drop.
“Yeah, we’re staying in a B and B in Penzance. Actually, we wanted to ask you something.” He rooted through his backpack as he spoke, and pulled out an old bus timetable. “Says here that the last bus leaves from Hanow to Penzance at six pm. Would you mind pointing us in the direction of the bus stop?”
The old/young woman chuckled. “There’s no busses that go from Hanow, my ‘andsome. My guess is your staying at old Jake’s Bed and Breakfast, The Jolly Sailor?”
“Er, yeah,” Tim said, “how did you know that?”
“Because he’s a bugger for handing out out of date timetables to unsuspecting tourists. I think he does it for kicks, he ain’t been right in the head since his wife passed on, God rest her soul. Did you even check the date on your timetable?”
Tim frowned, and studied the pamphlet. “Shit. It says two thousand and seven.”
“Ay. Hanow hasn’t been near a bus route for many years. Not since they built more of them fancy roads. We’re a bit off the beaten track, so to speak. Used to be that a mile hike would take you onto the main road. But the main road moved, now you walk two miles and you get to a road no one uses no more.”
“Oh my God Tim, how could you be so stupid? That timetable’s like seven fucking years old.” Beth snapped.
“Hey, it’s not my fault, I didn’t see any of you guys wanting to read the timetable. I said the last bus left at six and you all blindly took my word for it.”
“You should of bloody checked the date of the thing,” Beth went on.
Craig threw her a look and it seemed to work. She sat there sulking, her arms folded across her chest.
“Tim’s right, it’s not his fault, we all should have checked,” Jessie said, ever the peace keeper. “What’s your name?” she asked the woman.
“Margaret.”
“Margaret. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you so much for going out of your way to feed us. My name’s Jessie, and this is Tim, Craig and Beth,” she said, nodding to each of them in turn.
“You’re more than welcome, my ‘andsome, and it’s a pleasure to meet y’all too. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, and all.”
“It doesn’t matter, we’ll just call for a taxi,” Craig said, thinking aloud.
“You do that,” the woman called Margaret said. “But if you want to, there are two double rooms going free above the pub. I used to have a B and B, but I gave it up when the family started growing. You folks are welcome to stay here for the night. You can even stay for free.”
“We couldn’t possibly take advantage of you like that,” Jessie said.
But Craig got it. Jessie didn’t want to stay in Hanow anymore than he did. Seems like he wasn’t the only one to be creeped out big time by this pregnant old hag.
“I’ll make that call, I’ve still got that local firm’s number on my phone from yesterday,” Craig said, swinging a leg over the long bench to retrieve his mobile in the front pocket of his rucksack that was propped behind him. “No signal in here, I’ll try outside.”
It was a relief to be outside. The threat of rain had passed and Craig closed his eyes for a second, lifting his face to the watery, late afternoon, September sun.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.
No signal out here either. He wandered down the road a little, staring at the screen of his phone.
Still no signal bars.
He walked a little further down the road that meandered off inland. It wasn’t really much more than a dirt track and he wondered how the hell any kind of car got down it.
A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He spun round. He was sure he’d seen movement in the upstairs window of the pub, directly above ‘The Dirty Swallow’ sign. Maybe it was just the low sun reflecting off the glass.
And so what if it wasn’t. Somebody was watching him. It was no big deal.
He didn’t understand why he was suddenly so uneasy.
He walked back to the pub. One of the others were bound to have a signal.
“No signal,” he said, waving his phone at th
em when he walked through the door. “Maybe someone else can try. Where’s Margaret gone?”
“To help her husband in the kitchen,” Tim said, retrieving his mobile, just like the other two were doing. “Shit. I haven’t got a signal either. Do you guys?”
Jessie and Beth shook their heads.
“We can try outside,” Jessie said.
The three of them trooped outside, leaving Craig alone.
He took a big gulp of his warm beer, wondering why the hell he was so jittery. He could faintly hear their voices and crossed his fingers under the table that they had got through to the taxi rank.
“You here on holiday?”
Craig sprayed out his beer.
“Jesus! You gave me a fright!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare yer.”
Craig stared at the old man that had apparently appeared out of nowhere. He was stooped, skinny and had a walking stick. Sparse white hair decorated his mostly bald head and his skin was yellow and wizened, like parchment paper.
“I’m Margaret’s Father. We don’t get much passing trade nowadays. In fact, you’re lucky you caught us open.”
Craig noticed the door behind the bar was opened and a dark staircase could be seen ascending into darkness.
“Oh. Yeah, we’re here on holiday, we’re staying in Penzance.”
“You hiked here?”
“Yeah.”
Craig could only just understand him as he had a thick Cornish accent.
“Used to be a popular trail. That’s ‘til folks started disappearing when they walked it. Some say it’s haunted. Killed our passing trade stone dead, I can tell yer. What brings you folks here?”
“Old Jake. We’re staying at The Jolly Sailor. He said it was a walk to die for with the best pub in Cornwall at the end of it.”
“Ah, yes, dear old Jake. Me and Jake go back a long ways.”
He smiled at Craig, displaying a gaping maw.
Jesus, didn’t anyone here have teeth?
There was one thing Craig knew for certain. When they got back to the B and B, he was going to ram the out of date bus timetable down ‘Old Jake’s’ neck. The stupid old fuck.
The other three walked back in.
“Any luck?” Craig asked eagerly.
“Nope.”
“Are you folks having some kind of a problem?” the old guy asked.
“We’re trying to call for a taxi, and none of our phones can get a signal,” Jessie answered.
“Ay. Hanow and the surrounding area is a dead spot for your there mobile telephones.”
“Do you have a phone we could borrow?” Craig asked the old man.
“No. Tree fell down on one of them telephone wires over by the old main road few days ago.”
Craig’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Does anyone here have a working phone?”
“No son, I told you, phone line’s dead. Besides, ain’t no one that lives in Hanow now ‘cept me and my family.”
“I do not believe this shit,” Beth said.
She actually stamped her foot and there were tears in her eyes.
Margaret burst backwards through a door by the side of the bar. She was holding a big tray piled high with sandwiches. Craig caught a glimpse of an old, grubby looking kitchen, then the door swung shut again.
Christ, he thought, I really don’t want to eat anything that comes out of that kitchen…
“Lunch,” she said brightly, placing the tray of sandwiches in front of Craig.
The others came back over to their seats. No one looked too thrilled to see lunch, despite a collective ravenous appetite.
Beth was the first to speak.
“So what are we going to do?”
Craig was painfully aware of Margaret and the old man who had edged closer.
A bit of privacy right about now would be nice, he thought.
“We could walk back to the main road,” Craig suggested. “It can’t be more than a few miles and I’m sure we’ll pick up a signal before we even hit the main road.”
“It’s five miles to the main road. But it will be at least that before you get a signal on your mobile telephones. Here’s a dead spot,” Margaret said.
“Ay, it’s a dead spot alright,” the old man intoned.
Craig bit down a wave of irritation.
“I’m not walking five more bloody miles. And it’ll be dark soon.” Beth said.
“You’re right there young lady,” Margaret agreed. “Ain’t really nothing but a dirt track leading out of Hanow. Gets dark as a dog’s guts at night.”
“Ay. You wouldn’t see jack shit out there.”
“Do you perhaps have a torch we could borrow for the walk?” Tim asked the old man.
“I am not walking anywhere more today. You can go alone and order a taxi to pick the rest of us up,” Beth said.
“Hold your horses, young lady, I was gonna offer you folks a lift to the main road seeing as y’all so keen to leave. But I hope ya alls understand that you’re more than welcome to stay with us tonight.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Jessie said to the old man, “and we appreciate it, but we really have to be getting back. We’re going home tomorrow and we don’t want to miss our train.”
That was a barefaced lie, but the three of them kept a poker face, even Beth.
Looks like none of us want to stay here tonight, Craig thought.
The old man nodded gravely. “I can only transport two of you’s. I have a two seater Land Rover so I only got the room for two.”
“Thank you so much,” Jessie gushed, “that’s awfully kind of you. We can pay you for your trouble.”
“Ain’t no trouble young lady. If you really want to pay us then you can start off by eating those sandwiches my son-in-law has so kindly prepared for yous.”
Jessie flushed. “Of course,” she said, picking one up.
She took a bite and everyone watched her. Those sandwiches didn’t look at all appetising. At first glance they were a pile of ordinary, white sliced bread cut into triangles.
But on closer inspection, the bread had a greyish tinge and looked stale. And God only knew what the filling was, Craig’s stomach turned just looking at it. It looked like ham, except it was too thick to be ham.
Jessie’s face said it all. Even the most polite out of their group was having difficulty swallowing.
“What meat is this?” she asked.
Margaret and her father exchanged a look.
“Pork,” they said in unison.
Jessie took a big gulp of orange juice. “Lovely.”
“Come on,” the old man said, clapping his hands together and sitting down on the long bench to Craig’s left. “Tuck in. You have to eat something before I give the two of yous a lift.”
So they each took a sandwich. Craig figured they all wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.
Tentatively, he took a bite. It didn’t taste as bad as it looked. The meat was a bit chewy, and pungent somehow, but not altogether unpleasant. He certainly had never tasted pork like it.
“Margaret, get these fine people another drink. On the house.”
“No, really, there’s no need for that…” Jessie began, then gave up when Margaret went behind the bar.
Craig wasn’t about to protest too much. He’d drained his pint and another wouldn’t go amiss.
Hell, he thought. He might as well get pissed.
“So tell me a bit about yourselves,” the old man said. “My name’s Barry, but everybody calls me Bish.”
Now that he was sat next to him, Craig noticed that he smelled a bit funny. It wasn’t something that he could put his finger on, and it was only faint. But it was sweet and rank, reminding him of the smell of shit lingering in the bathroom. Perhaps it was just the odour of old age. Maybe the old guy hadn’t wiped his arse properly.
Discretely he shuffled closer to Beth.
Tim was the one that introduced them all.
“So what do you do, Ti
m?” Bish asked.
“I’m a university student. We’re all third year university students. Well, apart from Beth, that is.”
“And what do you do, young lady?”
“I’m an actress and model,” she said.
Code for barmaid and waitress, Craig silently added. Unless you count going to endless auditions and getting fuck-all-nowhere at the end of them.
“Now I can say I’ve met a real life model and actress. What are you folks studying?”
“I’m reading Law,” Tim said.
“Training to be a primary school teacher,” Jessie said.
“Reading English Lit,” Craig said.
“Yowzer. We’ve got us a real bunch of bright young sparks here, ain’t we Margaret?”
“Ay, that we have, Dad.” she said, placing their drinks in front of them.
“How did y’alls meet?”
“Halls of residence,” Jessie said, “the three of us just clicked so we rented a house together in the second year, along with a couple of others.”
And that’s when my best friend hooked up with the girl I was in love with. It should’ve been me, Craig thought miserably. And that’s how much I love her. Even when I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere with the local weirdos I still think about how much I love her…
“How old are y’alls, if you don’t mind me askin’?”
Bish’s question struck Craig as odd. Why on earth would he want to know that? Then he figured he was just worried about them being underage. All pubs nowadays abided by that ‘think 25’ policy. Craig never set foot inside a pub without his driver’s license.
“Don’t worry, we’re all old enough to drink,” Tim said, obviously coming to the same conclusion as Craig. “We’re twenty one. Would you like to see our ID?”
“Don’t worry son, I was just checkin’. Can’t be too careful nowadays.”
“The under twenty fives are so much fresher,” Margaret said.
Fresher? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Craig thought.
Craig picked up on the warning look Bish threw her.
“Ay Margaret, tis nice indeed to have some young blood around, liven the place up a bit.”
The four of them sat there in awkward silence, which was eventually broken by Bish.
“Well, it will be dark in less than half an hour, would a couple of you fine folk care for that lift to the main road now?”