Break Out The Bubbly

by Rick Adams

  ‘What are you on about? I run this place.’

  ‘For sure, and for which the society inherent is defunct. You see only wrong in other people, for that is the food which your own darkness of nature subsists upon. You are a danger, Ginger, a parasite feeding off the destructive emotions of your colleagues.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she trumpeted, ‘amateur psychology at its finest. Who are you, anyway, where did you come from?’

  ‘We are moving away from that which we agreed upon,’ said Tabatha. ‘And I believe it is time to come clean.’

  She paused.

  ‘We have been testing you, your shape, your mettle, in consequence of which we have learnt much that is helpful in our moving these two businesses forward.’

  ‘You didn’t plan any of this,’ seethed Matthew. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Let us continue with our debrief,’ said his mother. ‘Matthew, has Carol’s behavior affected you?’

  ‘No. It’s drawn me closer to Emily.’

  ‘And you, Emily?’

  ‘The same, I suppose,’ I sighed, ‘good things have come from the stress of it. Carol, you have been awful, but I think I understand better now. And I’ve realized that you, Adrian, aren’t as bad as I thought, and I’m making a good friend in Marilyn.’

  ‘I also,’ she said, ‘have derived benefit from these three days. It has been a pleasure to work in Sheila’s, and I too am glad to have met and befriended so-called competitors in business. Overall, I am happy.’

  ‘And you, Adrian?’

  ‘When you, Sarah, came racing through my shop three days ago, I was stressed, anxious, unhappy, under pressure, and in consequence ill-tempered, ill-mannered, and ill-disposed towards you. I am sorry you were pushed to such extreme, and I hope you may find it in your heart to forgive me. As for Carol, I couldn’t wish for a better colleague with whom to run a business, and I hope that we can manage matters accordingly so that Adrian’s and Sheila’s continue to blossom into the future.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Sarah,’ I said, ‘what about you?’

  She was quiet, for a long time.

  ‘Was this planned?’ she asked Tabatha.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Carol.’

  ‘Yes, Sarah, I’m afraid it was.’

  ‘Adrian.’

  ‘It was, yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘As Tabatha has intimated…’

  ‘That’s not good enough. You bullied me. The pair of you, and then you, you didn’t just let bad things happen, you orchestrated them, you acted with malice aforethought and drove me to throw myself from a ledge. That’s absolutely unforgiveable, you know, you should be held to account for that. In fact, now I know I think I’ll get the authorities involved. I have to.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said, ‘wait. Please, Sarah, I think may be able to rectify things. Carol, do you remember when you played me back the CCTV tapes, the part where I was telling Matthew about Sarah?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to go there, Emily?’

  ‘Yes, yes, what was I saying?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, just tell them.’

  ‘There. There,’ I said stupidly, ‘that’s what I said about you.’

  ‘And how does that help?’

  ‘Don’t you see? My past actions, well what I said, my words in particular, they’ve been shoved back in front of me, particularly the ones that have been ill-conceived, uttered without thought, hurtful even. It’s as if my thoughts, the very ones that have directed me into harm’s way, have been challenged, and they by my own mind. I’ve been becoming more aware, more critical of myself, how I act, what I do, what I say.’ I paused. ‘I seem, somehow, to be forgiving, myself.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘Carol, Tabatha and Adrian have conspired – they’ve erred Sarah, and erred badly, but they’re sorry, and their punishment is in the remorse they feel for their actions. Your gift of forgiveness will help turn that apology into good, noble, honest intention for the future. That’s the way it should be.’

  ‘But they hurt me,’ she pleaded, ‘they almost killed me. And on purpose too. I can’t forgive that – no one in their right mind would give that away.’

  ‘But they didn’t plan any of it,’ Matthew pushed again. ‘They wouldn’t have been able to, not these three. What’s going on?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘You’re still trying to cover for her. And you, mum. Let it go. We can’t resolve things if you’re not telling us the truth. We’ve all answered the charge, what about you both? How has Carol’s behavior affected you?’

  ‘A little more than you others, I fear,’ replied Judith. ‘You see, Tabatha and I have been dealing with this, separately, for a longer time.’

  ‘Then stop trying to cover. Give it up, forgive, or whatever the hell Em’s talking about, and then we can all get on with, well, whatever it is we’ve got to do.’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ said Tabatha, ‘I think the whole matter stems from hurt. ‘Each time, you’ve started to thieve when the chips are down, when personal affairs have shot up in the air, when, in short, you’ve felt emotionally volatile.’

  ‘That’s right,’ concurred Judith, ‘Tabatha speaks the truth.’

  ‘And there,’ I said to my manager, ‘is proof positive, as with Matthew and I, that far from dividing people and upsetting us all, ‘I glanced at Sarah, ‘you have actually brought some of us together. Tabatha, how has this business affected you?’

  ‘Adversely, of course,’ she replied, ‘but in other manner, yes, I feel I understand more now, and I hope we can move forward from here.’

  ‘Judith.’

  ‘The same,’ she smiled.

  ‘Can you forgive?’ I asked Sarah again.

  She looked down.

  ‘Of course she can’t,’ snarled Ginger, ‘because you’ve fucked her over. All of you, in one way or another. You can let Tranter sit here and play happy families as much as she likes, but the only reason she’s trying to is because she hasn’t got one. And she’s stolen my man, and she’s jealous and resentful that I’m better than her at, well, everything. You’re pathetic, the lot of you. Yesterday half of you were baying for the other half’s blood, and now you’re going to pull the knife out of each other’s backs and ram it in that poor runt there.’

  She was looking at Sarah.

  ‘But we’re trying to resolve…’ I began.

  ‘Just let her,’ said Cynthia softly, ‘let her finish.’

  ‘No,’ said Ginger, ‘I won’t. What are you playing at?’

  ‘Follow your thought through,’ Cynthia said again, ‘it is a highly valid one.’

  ‘Don’t trick me, old woman.’

  ‘I’m not. Honestly.’

  Ginger scowled, then frowned, then miraculously seemed to relax.

  ‘She’s a scapegoat,’ she said firmly, ‘and you lot, the tribe, are trying to offload your sins on her. If you persuade her to forgive you, she gets all the guilt while the lot of you get off scot free. Don’t think you’re the only ones who know about this God stuff. I know how it works. It makes deficient people feel better about themselves by going to la-la land and singing a few Hell Marys!’

  ‘That is precisely the opposite of its desired course.’

  ‘I said, don’t trick me. It’s disgusting what you’ve done to her, and I’d advise precisely the opposite course of action, should you desire it, Sarah.’

  Once more, there was silence.

  Sarah looked round.

  She seemed to be studying each of us.

  Then she looked at Tabatha.

  And she smiled. ‘Thank God there’s only one of you in existence,’ she repeated, ‘and that so the rest of us can see more properly where the straight and narrow lies.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Ginger.

  But Tabatha and I were already looking at each other.

  How on earth…

  ‘You heard
her,’ barked Ginger at Tabatha, ‘now why don’t you sod off for good so we can open the shop back up and make some money.’

  ‘You have no idea, do you?’ I laughed in her face.

  She was taken aback for a moment.

  No idea what was going on.

  Nor had I.

  How the heck had Sarah heard what Tabatha said out by the bench?

  Unless…

  I turned on Carol. ‘How far was the range on the CCTV?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s gone.’

  ‘You were spying outside too, weren’t you?’ I asked Tabatha.

  She looked at her feet. ‘We wanted to catch the thief.’

  ‘What about Adrian’s?’

  ‘No, not that far.’

  ‘But how did…you told her, when you went to visit, at the hospital. Why?’

  ‘We spoke of many things,’ said Sarah, ‘and one of them, Ginger, was how you so warmly reacted to my fall.’

  Ginger swallowed hard.

  ‘So really, this talk about scapegoats, and tribes, and guilt, and sin, well it’s all very clever but I think I’ll take my chances with plain old-fashioned forgiveness, from my heart and soul, to my friends.’ She paused. ‘Including you.’

  Cynthia beamed.

  ‘You what?’ I began, but my friend’s reaction silenced me.

  ‘But I hate you,’ said Ginger, albeit very unconvincingly. ‘I hate all of you.’

  ‘I don’t think you do,’ said Cynthia, ‘I think the point Emily has touched upon in your regard is a prescient one. No, of course we don’t expect you to lay your cards on the table, for our community is rough, raw at present. Let us instead congratulate one another on forming it, however fragile it may seem at present, though in order to strengthen it I do suggest we continue with this evening’s New Year’s Eve party.’

  ‘But we haven’t even set up,’ I protested, ‘and most of the afternoon’s gone now. We’ll never have time to get all this stuff back over to Adrian’s.’

  ‘Why don’t we have it at mine?’

  Everyone looked at her.

  ‘At Foggett’s Tor?’

  ‘Yes. I have lots of space up there, and you’d all be welcome.’

  ‘But I hate you,’ said Ginger lamely.

  ‘And we’d never get everything lugged up to yours,’ I added lamely.

  ‘We don’t need to,’ said Cynthia, ‘if we all pull together we can restock the shelves right here at Sheila’s over the next hour or so, and then have a much smaller affair up on the hill. What do you say?’

  Murmurs of assent rolled round the room.

  ‘But everyone,’ she continued looking straight at Ginger, ‘must chip in. If not, we have no celebration. Period.’

  That was a no-go then.

  There was no way Ginger would capitulate.

  She just wouldn’t.

  Except as all of us turned to look at her, and continued to do so, with warmth, and invitation, and oneness I suppose, the most incredible thing happened.

  She began to soften.

  I saw it with my own eyes.

  There, before me, our love, for I could not think of a better way to describe it, actually swirled around, mollified, and then dissolved entirely the apparent hatred she had been so keen to articulate against us.

  It was incredible.

  And in that moment, I learned a huge lesson.

  She protested.

  Of course she did.

  It took a while.

  Of course it did.

  For when had Ginger ever given in to anyone, at any time, ever.

  But, and this was crucial, she had no chance.

  None whatsoever.

  Love broke in upon the ice of her constitution and melted it so unutterably, though gradually, that eventually she agreed to help us replace the drinks…as long as she was in charge of the procedure.

  Even love, it would seem, took its time to achieve final victory!

  And once we’d started, it didn’t take long to replenish the shelves with the boxes from the office.

  As Cynthia had predicted, we were finished within the hour.

  Carol decided to lock up then.

  Well, when I say lock up, we were already closed.

  We’d lost another half day’s business.

  But who cared?

  It was New Year’s Eve.

  And I was going to a party up at Foggett’s Tor.

  With my boyfriend Matthew.

  Was he that?

  Well, I didn’t care, yes he was.

  There.

  That was decided.

  Carol asked me to do a final check round the place.

  She was keen to go with Adrian and get ready.

  I saw the last person, Marilyn, out of the front door.

  She offered me a lift.

  I told her I’d just do one last sweep of the store and meet her outside.

  She left.

  I turned back to the front till.

  Reminiscence began to sweep over me.

  I stopped myself.

  I checked the aisles.

  All of them, fine.

  The lottery kiosk.

  Fine.

  The office.

  The stock room.

  The board room.

  The common room.

  All fine.

  I dashed back downstairs, deliriously happy.

  I swung back into the shop.

  I raced down aisle five.

  Something caught my eye.

  I stopped.

  I turned.

  I moved back slowly.

  Everything was there.

  Everything.

  Wasn’t it?

  I strained my eyes in the darkness.

  I saw something in the gloom.

  And my stomach dropped when I realized what the shape was.

  For there, in the middle of the shelves, was a gap.

  Not a large gap.

  But one nonetheless.

  And one which should have held bottles of champagne.

  Three of them.

  My stomach dropped again.

  How much lower could it go?

  Of all the shocks that the last forty eight hours had struck me with, this was by far the most extreme.

  Because it made a mockery of the community we had just formed, from its very recent, and for all that, very vulnerable foundation, now rent from the sand out of which we had in carefree company begun to construct it.

  For Carol had taken a spade and smacked the castle to pieces.

  Right before us.

  Well, not actually, because she’d done it whilst we weren’t there.

  Though in our midst.

  It was as if we’d all gone out to sea to swim and play games whilst she’d stayed behind on the beach, fuming, scheming, angry at her isolation and in consequence destructive to our property.

  Shouldn’t it have been Ginger though?

  She was the last one to join the group.

  It would have been her who swept away our jointure, surely?

  As soon as the thought formed, I knew I was right.

  It was her.

  And I was going to have it out with her, once and for all, community or not, reconciliation or not, no matter if I had to ruin the New Year’s Eve party in the process.

  I took one last look at the gap in the shelves.

  I readied myself.

  And then I left Sheila’s.

  Locked up.

  And headed to Foggett’s Tor with Marilyn.

  Chapter 13

  HAPPY NEW YEAR…

  I didn’t talk to Marilyn about the missing champagne on our journey.

  Because this last fight was going to be between Ginger and me.

  Just the two of us.

  I was going to face my nemesis on my own, by myself, me against her, and may the best girl win.

  Which was me by the way!

  Marilyn spent the time reading anyway.

  And o
ut of the corner of my eye, I studied her.

  She was so engrossed in her new book that she didn’t notice me.

  I smiled to myself.

  She really had turned out to be one of the most enlightening people I’d ever met in my life, about as far removed from the mean and snooty woman I’d always thought she was as Adrian had proved himself to be from the man who for the last eight years I’d so ignorantly nicknamed Leafy Hollow.

  Sure, I disagreed with a lot of what she was saying, but I’d read somewhere once (yes, I did read!) that conflict wasn’t always about arguing and fighting and competing and proving the other person wrong, sometimes it was about sharing differences of opinion, amicably, so that instead of trumpeting your success at the expense of your opponent, you actually admitted their point of view and learnt something yourself from the exchange.

  We arrived at Cynthia’s soon enough.

  And Ginger was standing outside the front door.

  I told Marilyn to go ahead whilst I had a word.

  She complied.

  I approached my enemy.

  She glanced at me.

  Something was wrong.

  I drew nearer.

  She glanced again.

  There was no aggression.

  She seemed unsure.

  Well, that wasn’t my concern.

  In fact, it played in my favour.

  Now, I could aggress.

  Now, take the upper hand.

  Now, attack.

  Now, go in for the kill.

  Like an eagle soaring, its beady eye fixed upon its prey, I readied to dive, and swoop and savage my prey to death.

  ‘Emily,’ she said completely disarming me, ‘I’m sorry.’

  I saw her expression.

  Her eyes were moist.

  My thirst for revenge slaked on the instant.

  By remorse.

  Compassion.

  Love.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘let’s go and enjoy ourselves.’

  And with that, the two of us skipped into the mansion.

  Met with a cheer.

  A flute of champagne put in our hands.

  And I burst into tears as we all began to make merry.

  Quite unaware of the train of events which had been set in motion the last time she’d called me by my first name…