by Nina Kaye
Counter to the horrors in my mind, nothing stops as the door slams behind me. No one even looks up, engrossed in their noisy, animated conversations, which they have to amplify to be heard above the other punters and the almost blaring Christmas music. I stand just feet away from the overdecorated long bar, propped up by a seemingly endless line of punters of various ages. My eyes explore the room, across the sea of tables, past the enormous, blinking Christmas tree, to the pool table at the far end – the same one I played on all those years ago.
Before I even realise, I gravitate towards it. Slowly, I walk right up to the pool table; my fingers automatically reach out to touch it. As I make contact with the cool wooden frame, and the rough, faded, threadbare green felt, one thing is clear: I need to play.
A gruff voice suddenly snaps me out of my curious trance. ‘Eh, mate? Is that your bird? Gonnae ask her to get out the way.’
Seeing my surroundings properly for the first time, I realise that I’ve wandered into the middle of a game of pool in play. The challengers look thoroughly perplexed. The man with the gruff voice, who’s wearing a tracksuit and a cap, and is of a similar age to me, taps his foot impatiently, waiting for me to move. Glancing to my left, I see Dylan and Reyes arrive by my side, and steer me out of the way.
‘Not my bird, Neilsy,’ says Dylan. ‘But she’s with me. Sorry, pal, we’ll let you get back to your game.’
‘Hold on.’ The man called Neilsy looks at me again. ‘Is it…? It is. Shit a brick. Guys, it’s wee Liv.’
I’m suddenly surrounded by a swarm of faces – full of curiosity and recognition. And they’re smiling, welcoming me. One by one, they step over and overwhelm me with huge bear hugs, stinging high fives and complicated handshakes. The complete opposite of what I anticipated. As word spreads through the pub, the well-wishers – previous neighbours, old schoolmates, even one of my secondary school teachers – crowd round me.
After a while, as nice as it is to be so welcomed, I’m feeling a bit jaded from having to repeat my story of the last eight years over and over. I take a step back from the well-wishers so I can settle properly and relax.
‘So, wee Liv, you still the pool shark you were before?’ Neilsy asks me. ‘I remember you used to shrivel the balls of every guy in here – including me.’
‘Nah.’ I laugh. ‘That was a long time ago. I’ve only played a couple of times recently.’
A familiar feeling of guilt tinged with sadness creeps into my mind; alongside a memory of Josh and me playing pool in the staff canteen at the hotel. I push it aside.
‘You up for a game?’ Neilsy asks. ‘Maybe this time I’ll beat you. Been the Broken Arms pool champ three years in a row, I have.’ He puffs his chest out proudly.
‘OK, you’re on.’ I give his hand a slapping shake to seal the challenge. ‘Just let me get a drink first.’
I make my way through the group and bump into Dylan.
‘You all right, Squirt?’ He hands me a pint of Tennent’s. ‘Thought I’d get you your old tipple to complete the experience.
‘Thanks.’ I take it gratefully from him. ‘Guess that makes sense.’
‘We were a bit worried before when you just stormed in here like that,’ says Dylan. ‘Like an undercover cop about to do a bust. That never goes down well in a place like this.’
‘You’re right about that.’ I laugh. ‘I don’t know what happened. It was weird. One minute I was about to do a runner, and the next it was like I could take on the world.’
‘Was that your online pal coming to the rescue again?’ Dylan grins at me.
‘Graham? Actually… yeah… it was.’ I let out the same huge sigh I do every time he floats into my mind or enters a conversation. ‘That man. He just blew me away, Dylan. Made me see things I could never see myself; helped me find what was really important to me again.’
‘It wasn’t just him. You did a lot of it yourself.’
‘I know.’ I nod thoughtfully. ‘And you guys have been part of it too. I’ve actually got a little mantra now, for any more moments of self-doubt.’
‘Let’s hear it then.’ Dylan gives me nudge.
‘No chance.’ I clink his glass and take a refreshing slug from my pint. ‘You’ll just take the piss.’
‘That you can be sure of.’ Dylan gives me a wink and puts his arm around Reyes, pulling her in close.
‘Chica, I am so wishing your online hombre come back.’ Reyes gives me a pouty sad look.
‘Me too.’ I match her facial expression as my stomach starts it familiar washing-machine-style churn. ‘So badly. I thought it would fade, the feeling of missing him so much, but it’s still there, strong as ever. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again. It’s been so long now. Makes me wonder if he was married after all – maybe separated and got back together with his wife.’
‘Then maybe there is new hombre here for you.’ Reyes starts to scan the room.
‘Here?’ I choke on my pint. ‘No way.’
Dylan gives me a look.
‘It’s not a snob thing,’ I defend myself. ‘I went to school with these blokes. I’ve seen way too much of what they get up to, to ever date any of them.’
‘Fair play.’ Dylan shrugs. ‘They haven’t changed much either.’
‘They are very happy to be seeing you,’ says Reyes. ‘You are feeling good about this?’
I look round me, making eye contact with Neilsy, who raises his pint towards me. I return the gesture.
‘Yeah, they are.’ I smile contentedly. ‘It feels really good. I can finally say with pride that this is where I’m from.’
‘That’s my girl. You’ve come a long way these past months.’ Dylan puts his other arm around me and pulls both Reyes and me into a group hug; his strong arms holding us there until we cry out at him to stop suffocating us.
A short while later, I’m being heralded as Neilsy’s nemesis. Although he’s beaten me twice, I’ve apparently made him sweat, and I’m the first person to do that in the last few years.
I’m in the process of negotiating a short break before playing another old schoolmate, Justin, a nice-looking guy with dark hair and deep brown eyes, who obviously works out, when there’s a tap on my shoulder.
‘Squirt, have a you got a minute?’ Dylan asks.
‘Sure, Dylan. Justin, give me half an hour, and I’ll be back to kick your backside.’ I give him a cheeky wink.
‘Fine by me.’ Justin’s eyes glint impishly. ‘Very happy to get an arse-whipping from a gorgeous woman anytime.’
Caught off guard by his flirting, I feel my cheeks start to burn. Back here in the Broken Arms, in some ways it feels like I never left. But I certainly never got comments like that when I was a teenager. The guys were all fond of me, protective even, but they saw me in more of a little sister or vulnerable kid kind of role. I was never the one they lusted after. I didn’t have any money for new clothes, make-up and hairspray, like some other girls. Their families, though they still didn’t have a lot, made sure their daughters were presentable and had a bit of pocket money.
I turn away from Justin to hide my blush and follow Dylan from the pool table. Once we’re out of earshot, he stops and turns to me.
‘The word’s gotten out that you’re here.’
‘Well, duh!’ I screw up my nose at him, wondering why he just dragged me away to state the obvious.
‘No, I mean the word’s gotten out – beyond this pub. Your mum’s just turned up.’
The bottom just about falls out of my stomach, closely followed by a shiver that runs through me. My mum’s here? In this pub? Shit. I was almost prepared for seeing all my old friends and schoolmates, but not for this. I didn’t think for a second that, even if she heard I was back, she would have shifted her lazy backside off the couch long enough to wave to me in the street, never mind turn up, right here in the Broken Arms.
‘Is she drunk?’ My eyes search Dylan’s nervously.
‘Actually, no,’ he replies. ‘That’s the
surprising thing. She’s sober. And she looks pretty well.’
‘What?’ I look past him, scanning the bar to try and spot her. ‘Are you sure it’s her? Where is she?’
‘Of course, I’m sure it’s her.’ Dylan looks at me incredulously. ‘I know what your mum looks like.’
‘Oh, I know that.’ I purse my lips. ‘But you know as well as I do that she’s barely been sober since I was a kid. And the days she was – the ones that I saw – she was a total nightmare.’
‘I know she was. But she wants to see you. Are you ready for that?’
‘I… err… no. NO.’ I rub my face anxiously. ‘I don’t want this to ruin things. This wasn’t part of today’s plan.’
‘It’s up to you.’ Dylan puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. ‘No pressure. If you don’t want to see her, I’ll make sure she leaves. She even said herself she would.’
‘She did?’ I look up at him in surprise.
‘Yeah, she did.’ Dylan gives me an encouraging smile. ‘I’ve not seen her in a couple of months, and I have to say, there’s a huge difference in her. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.’
‘The words pleasant and my mum definitely don’t go together,’ I grumble.
‘They haven’t in the past, for sure.’ Dylan nods slowly. ‘So, what do you want me to tell her? Shall I say to her to go?’
I mull this over for a few moments. ‘No. I’ll see her. Where is she?’
‘Good for you.’ Dylan squeezes my shoulder. ‘She’s at a table over by the door. Want me to come with you?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ I give him a weak smile. ‘Go and rescue your girl before those guys take their flirting to the next level.’
We glance across at Reyes, who is surrounded by a group of blokes, all completely transfixed by her. And she’s lapping it up.
‘Right, yeah, gonna have to fight my way through that lot.’ Dylan regards Reyes adoringly. ‘Good luck, Squirt. I’m here if you need me.’
As Dylan makes a beeline for Reyes, I turn my attention to the other side of the bar, and start to weave my way through the tables, giving a little wave here and there to people I recognise. It’s not until I’m nearing the end of the room that I spot her, and it’s no surprise why. She’s aged a lot in the ten or so years since I last saw her. But it’s not just that. She’s slimmer, and although she still looks prematurely old and haggard from the years of alcohol abuse, there’s something brighter and slightly more alive about her. She’s obviously dyed her hair, and she’s even wearing a little make-up. Along with her general transformation, this makes her formerly soulless eyes look more warm and human. She’s wearing jeans and a green nice-but-plain top instead of the ragged, stinking tracksuits she used to rot in from dawn till dusk. She also looks nervous.
‘Hi, Mum.’
She looks up as I greet her.
‘Liv… you’re really here… it’s so… it’s lovely to see you. You look great.’
I tentatively pull out a seat and sit down, noticing that my mum doesn’t just look nervous, she seems almost terrified. She’s also just greeted me warmly and complimented me: two previously unheard-of gestures.
‘You look well too, Mum.’ I mean this as a statement, but unfortunately it comes out as more of a question.
‘I’ve… I’ve been trying to turn myself around.’ She fiddles with her top uncomfortably. ‘You know, stop being such a waste of space.’
I know I should jump in at this stage and scold my mother for being so down on herself, but this is no normal conversation. There’s no point in denying the truth.
‘What’s brought this on?’ I ask.
‘Oh… I… umm… I just, you know, thought it was time…’
‘What do you mean you thought it was time?’
‘You know… just… stuff.’ She fiddles with her top again.
‘No, I don’t know, Mum. What stuff?’
‘It’s nothing… really… just knew I needed to change.’
‘Don’t bullshit me, Mum.’ I feel a twinge of annoyance. Despite me having made the effort to turn up here, looking like a different person, she’s reverting to her old avoidance tactics. ‘Is it a new bloke?’
‘What? No. No, not a man. Not a man.’ She shakes her head vigorously, like a toddler refusing to co-operate.
‘So, what is it then?’ I continue to probe, deciding she’s not getting off the hook that easily.
‘It’s… umm… it’s just… it’s not important… you know…’
‘Look.’ I sigh. ‘I don’t have time for this, Mum. You obviously came here because you wanted to see me. So, if you don’t want me to get up and walk away right now – and who would blame me – I suggest you spit out whatever it is you’re dancing around. Right now.’
I sit back in my seat and fold my arms to show I mean business. I might appear hard-hearted, but in view of all I know and what I had to put up with, I would be forgiven for a lot worse.
‘Yes. You’re right.’ His eyes dart around guiltily, unable to meet mine. ‘OK, I heard something. Something bad. And I realised I needed to sort myself out.’
‘Right.’ I pause momentarily. ‘And what did you hear?’
‘I heard that… you… that you were… I can’t say this… I don’t want to upset you…’
‘OK, fine. I’m going to leave.’ I stand up, pushing back my chair noisily, causing a few people to look over.
My mum cowers away from the attention.
‘Please. Don’t go,’ she pleads with me. ‘I’ll say. I’ll tell you.’
‘Last chance.’ I sit back down and look at her expectantly.
‘I heard… I heard that you had lost your job. And that you were losing your apartment,’ she gabbles.
‘Who told you that?’ I ask. ‘Why would that suddenly make you turn your life around? You never bothered when I really needed you. When I was a kid.’
‘I know. I was… your dad… he made things…’
‘That man has been dead for nearly five years. You can’t go using him as an excuse – not anymore.’
‘I know… I know that.’ My mum starts to rock back and forth, my confrontational approach evidently too much for her to cope with.
‘OK.’ I soften my tone slightly, deciding that if she’s going to relapse back to the drink, I don’t want to feel any responsibility for that. ‘So, you heard I hit a difficult patch. Why did that suddenly make you want to turn your life around?’
‘Because…’ She continues to rock, but it slows. ‘Because… I… realised that you’d rather be on the streets than with me.’
I stare at her for a moment. ‘Dylan told you that.’
‘Umm… yes… but it’s not his fault… he… I wanted to know. I’ve been wanting to change. I’ve tried, Liv. You haven’t seen it, but I’ve tried before.’
‘How long have you been sober?’ I ask.
‘Ten weeks.’ My mum dares a weak smile. ‘I have an Alcoholics in Recovery coach. She’s really good. I think I might make it this time, Liv. I’ve cleaned up the house and I’ve even just got a part-time job in a school canteen.’
‘Wow, Mum.’ I can’t help but be mildly impressed by this. ‘That is good. Well done.’
‘Thanks.’ She almost looks proud for a moment. ‘I decided that if you were going to need a home, I would make one for you this time, just… just in case you might…’
Hearing these words, I realise this is indeed a changed woman in front of me. After years of abuse, and a distinct lack of enthusiasm for anything but the bottle, she’s finally making an attempt at life. How do I let her down gently? So that it doesn’t send her careering back down that perilous slope?
‘Mum, look.’ I clear my throat awkwardly. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done. I really do. And I think you need this for you – more than you do for me. But I’m not going to come back and live with you..’
‘Oh, OK.’ My mum’s face falls.
‘Don’t do that.’ I grimace. ‘You don’t want me
back in the house. You just think you do. We barely even know each other now, Mum. I’m not homeless – not technically. My apartment’s gone, yes, but I’m staying with a friend, and I’m self-employed now. I’m going to be fine.’
‘That’s good.’ My mum’s face is still one of bitter disappointment.
This tugs at me in a way I would never have expected.
‘Tell you what,’ I say. ‘How about I visit from time to time?’
‘You will?’ She looks up at me, eyes full of hope.
‘Yes, but on one condition only.’ I look her straight in the eye. ‘You stay off the drink.’
‘I will, Liv. This time, I promise.’ She makes every effort to hold my gaze.
‘You won’t be able to hide it from me.’
‘I know.’
‘Then we have a deal.’
I smile at her, and to my surprise, I feel my throat tighten and a light stinging at the backs of my eyes; the idea that I might have a mum who cares about me after all, suddenly becoming quite overwhelming. I swallow thickly in an attempt to compose myself.
‘I’d better get back to my friends, but I’ll pop round between Christmas and New Year for a proper catch-up. And, Mum… I’m proud of you for making this change. It can’t have been easy.’
‘That’s great. That’s… just great.’ My mum’s eyes are suddenly filled with nervous excitement. ‘I’ll make dinner. For you. And for Dylan. I owe him.’
‘Me too. Him, and…’ But I don’t say Graham’s name. I sigh, my stomach churning again as that omnipresent feeling of loss rears its head once more.
Chapter 30
The next morning, I’m heading home from the supermarket, enjoying the feel of the cold, crisp winter air, when I spot Anya walking along the street towards me.
She doesn’t see me at first. But the moment she does, that same look of awkwardness and discomfort from the night she first discovered I was working in a gin bar, returns.
‘Oh… hi… Liv… nice to see you. It’s been a while.’
I smile politely. ‘Hi, Anya. Yes, it has. Are you well?’
‘Yes, all good.’ She struggles to maintain eye contact with me. ‘How are… things?