Chapter 5
I hover outside The Hopeful Ghost pub for a second, psyching myself up to walk through the doors.
I used to drink here, back when I was a teen, and in some ways it seems no different, but you can tell the place has had a contemporary makeover.
Sure, it still has its country pub charm, but they’ve obviously jazzed it up to appeal to the younger people in Marram Bay, and all the tourists that stop by our popular seaside town.
It’s not exactly a cocktail bar in the centre of London, but I’ll bet it has more to offer than beer, cider and spirits – not that I minded that when I was a teen.
Warm fairy lights glow through the windows, making the place look inviting. Anytime anyone opens the door I feel the heat rush outside, tempting me in.
I told the girls I would meet them inside, saying that I needed to make a quick call, but really all I wanted was a few seconds to give myself a pep talk.
It’s weird but every time I do something like this – something that feels like retracing my steps – I have a bit of a wobble.
How can I move on with my life when it feels like I’m only going backwards?
Oh well, enough of the pity party – it’s too chilly to ‘celebrate’ for too long – it’s time to join my friends.
It doesn’t take me long to spot Mel and Angie – Mel has always had one of those laughs that you can pick out in a crowd.
‘Right, sorry, that’s all sorted,’ I tell them as I join them.
‘That’s okay, you must have a lot to sort out,’ Angie replies. ‘With the move home and everything. Presumably you have more to move?’
‘Those shoes look expensive,’ Mel points out, thankfully interrupting, only just noticing what’s on my feet at a perfect moment. ‘Do you have more like that?’
I glance down at my heels almost self-consciously. I’ve paired them with a thick pair of black tights and a little suede skirt. I must have been down south too long because my tolerance for the cool coastal air seems to have vanished.
‘You had a rich boyfriend, right?’ Angie checks.
Oh my God, what has Mum been telling them?
‘I bought these for myself,’ I tell them.
‘Hmm,’ Angie says thoughtfully. ‘If I’d had a rich boyfriend, I would have milked him for all he was worth, while I had him.’
Lovely.
‘So, if we’re talking about the ex…’ Mel pipes up excitedly.
‘I’m just going to grab a drink,’ I tell them, talking over Mel, pretending I didn’t hear her. I wander off towards the bar before they can start quizzing me. I know, all it’s going to do is buy me a little time. I will have to face her questions at some point, but at least I’ll have alcohol in me.
The bar runs along the length of the back wall and tonight there are no fewer than six members of staff running around behind there, one of whom I recognise – it’s Tim, my ex, and Angie’s husband. I purposely head to the other end of the bar, leaning over to see what they’ve got on offer.
There’s a whole seasonal cocktail menu – something they never entertained back in the day – propped up beside the pumps. Spiced rum hot chocolates. Maple espresso martinis. Pumpkin spice white Russians. Who knew Marram Bay was so upmarket now?
‘Excuse me,’ I call out to the back of a man’s head.
‘Be with you in a sec,’ he replies.
I wait patiently for my turn but it never seems to come. In fact, I think I can see people coming and going, all while I’m still standing here.
‘Excuse me,’ I call out again.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ the barman calls back.
He’s flirting with the girl working alongside him. I don’t even think he’s realised that he’s already told me to wait once.
‘It’s just that I’ve been waiting for a while,’ I dare to pipe up.
‘If you’re going to be rude, I’m not going to serve you,’ he tells me with a smirk.
I feel like he’s trying to impress the girl next to him, which really pisses me off.
I’m your typical late-twenties woman (soon to be thirty – not that I’m panicking), so I have no idea what I’m supposed to do in situations like this.
I know that he shouldn’t be dismissing me like this, but at the same time I’m terrified of opening my mouth, because I just know that I’ll come across as a bitch.
‘Hey, buddy, can I get a drink?’ a man asks as he rocks up next to me.
‘Of course, mate, what can I get you?’ the barman asks, over like a shot.
Oh. Ohhh, now that pisses me off. How typical that he’s happy to serve a man. And how frustrating that a man is pushing in front of me like this.
I turn to him to say something, and as loath as I am to admit this, the fact he’s ridiculously good-looking stops me in my tracks.
Bloody hell, I’m not surprised he’s getting served before me.
He’s in his early thirties and he’s tall, dark and handsome, with a seriously charming cheeky smile.
He’s wearing a dark jumper with the sleeves pushed up and smells faintly of cedarwood, which I love.
I would probably give him whatever he wanted too.
‘Hmm, what can you get me?’ the man says as he scans the menu. Then he turns to me. ‘What do you fancy, darling?’
I freeze. He looks like he’s talking to me. Is he talking to me? Why would he be?
‘Darling?’ he prompts me. ‘This nice gent is waiting to take our drink order.’
‘Right, yeah, sorry,’ I babble as my brain catches up with me.
I don’t know why this random man is helping me to get served but I really appreciate it.
I glance at the fridges behind the bar.
‘Oh my God, they still make Kapop alcopops?’ I blurt as I clap eyes on the brightly coloured bottles.
Surely not? I thought they would have outlawed those by now. I haven’t had one since I was a teenager, I can’t believe it.
‘Yeah,’ the barman confirms. ‘You want one?’
You can tell he’s trying to fight off the disbelief in his voice.
‘Oh, absolutely,’ I reply, excited at the idea of a nostalgia hit. ‘I haven’t had one in a million years.’
‘We’ll have a Kapop and a beer then,’ my new best friend tells the barman.
‘What flavour Kapop?’ the barman asks.
‘Blue, please,’ I reply.
Blue was always my favourite. In hindsight, I can’t remember what it was supposed to taste like, but we always ordered them by their colours anyway.
‘Okay, coming up,’ the barman says.
I stand in silence, next to my new friend, as we wait for our drinks. Neither of us says a word; we just exchange smiles while the barman prepares our drinks.
‘Here you are, Mr L,’ the barman tells him, placing the drinks down in front of him. ‘On the house – sorry for keeping you waiting.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ the man, who I now know as Mr L, replies.
Mr L? He must be someone, some kind of big deal, if the barman knows his name, and he’s giving him free drinks.
Oh, God, tell me that this isn’t Eric, Mel’s boyfriend, the one who owns the bar.
It would be so typical if I just happened to bump into Marram Bay’s most handsome man, and he’s already dating my friend.
Mr L picks up my drink and holds it to his nose.
‘Mmm, blueberry,’ he says with a hint of playful sarcasm. ‘Enjoy.’
‘Thanks,’ I call after him as he walks away with his beer.
I take a sip of my bright blue drink straight from the bottle and, wow, it’s like I’ve gone back in time.
I make my way through the pub, dodging groups of people laughing, chatting and – I think – dancing, but the moves are questionable. As I sit down, Mel pushes a glass of prosecco towards me.
‘Eric sent over prosecco for the table,’ she says proudly.
‘That’s sweet of him,’ I reply, taking a sip. ‘Where is Eric, by the way?’
I glance around, looking for the mysterious Mr L, hoping and praying that they aren’t the same person, but I don’t like my odds.
Mel points towards the bar.
‘He’s over there, behind the bar,’ she tells me. ‘The one cleaning something off Tim’s shirt.’
I follow her gaze and feel a wave of relief wash over me when I see Eric, who is definitely not my mystery man, dabbing at a stain on Tim’s shirt. I look around the pub, trying to spot Mr L, but there’s no sign of him.
Mel leans in with a mischievous grin.
‘So, tell us, what’s it like living in London?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, we want all the details,’ Angie adds. ‘I’ve never even been, you know, but it’s because I don’t want to, obviously.’
Oh, obviously.
I shrug, trying to downplay it, because it’s just a place.
‘Honestly, it’s not all that different from Leeds,’ I tell them. ‘Just bigger and busier.’
Mel raises an eyebrow.
‘Come on, it has to be more interesting than that,’ she pushes me. ‘Do you run into celebrities all the time?’
‘I bet you can’t go into a café without seeing a movie star,’ Angie adds. ‘I’ve seen Notting Hill.’
I’ve seen Jaws but I’m not expecting a shark to pop out of the sea and start eating people – I’m not not rooting for it though.
‘Not really,’ I tell them. ‘I mean, I’ve seen a couple of vaguely famous people, but it’s not like they’re everywhere. Most of the time, it’s just regular people going about their day.’
‘What about the nightlife?’ Mel asks, pausing to sip her drink. ‘Is it as wild as they make it seem on TV?’
‘Oh my God, do you do drugs?’ Angie asks, followed by a gasp. ‘I heard everyone does drugs in London.’
‘People do drugs here in Marram Bay,’ I point out. ‘But, no, I don’t do drugs, and yes, Mel, the nightlife is great. There is more choice than there is here.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with here,’ Angie reminds me. ‘And this is Mel’s boyfriend’s pub, don’t forget.’
Wow, I really can’t say the right thing, can I?
‘Do you ever get caught up in any drama, like people fighting in the street or dramatic break-ups in fancy restaurants?’ Mel asks, clearly not offended.
I can’t help but laugh.
‘No, my life wasn’t all that exciting,’ I tell her. ‘Sorry.’
‘Why on earth would you leave?’ Angie asks.
‘The cost of living,’ I reply. ‘And, well, this is my home. It’s good to be home.’
Angie eyeballs me suspiciously.
‘And free,’ she points out.
‘I guess,’ I reply with an awkward laugh. ‘But I’m going to find a job here, get my own place, and see about settling back in.’