Chapter 17 Rum and Coke, please. Actually, make that two
Rum and Coke, please. Actually, make that two
Morgan
I walked for forty minutes until I arrived at the busiest pub just outside of Stoney Grange. They shouldn’t be, but my nerves are fried.
It was around the five-minute mark that I’m pretty sure I started being followed.
Maybe it was trickery of the night because I didn’t see anyone.
I could have sworn the same car kept driving past, though.
Too scared to look properly, the only thing that kept my feet moving was imagining I had Kevin with me.
Not that he would have been much help if someone was hot on my trail, but purely because I enjoy his company.
I didn’t feel so alone, believing he was there.
The general hum from the hustle inside had me wanting to turn back, but I was caught on the big stone step out the front of the pub when the door swung open. Seeing no way out, the tall man stepping outside for a cigarette held the door open for me to go inside.
So, feeling a little shaky from my solo walk, that’s exactly what I did.
And I have been sitting here, my hands hidden in the depths of my jacket, and my knees knocking together in the corner of the pub, watching different people come and go, without a single sign of Holly. I’ve called her. I’ve texted. But I’ve heard nothing.
The only saving grace is that most people here don’t know who I am. They’re either too old or from too far out of town to know the real locals. That’s why I agreed to eat and have a drink here.
As young teens, we preferred drinking in places we really shouldn’t. Park benches, bus stops, the old cenotaph on the cricket pitch, they were our usual hangouts.
Maybe if I had come here more as an adult, I would feel more comfortable.
Right now, the background noise has drowned out as though my head is underwater.
I can’t hear conversation. Can’t make head nor tail of what’s being said.
It’s in the side-eyes and the heads turning my way that I know people are staring at me.
I should be used to it, but being away from home and on my own, my blood feels like it’s turning to ice.
“Can I get you a drink?”
In slow motion, I turn my head and try to smile at the barman. “Yes. Please.”
He waits, clearing dirty glasses off the empty table next to me. “Anything in particular, or shall I just make a guess?”
I look down at my hands. I’ve been pinching my skin around my thumb, unaware. It’s only when I stop does my pulse throb in the divot left by my nail. “Rum and coke, please. Actually, make that two.”
He chuckles. “Both for yourself?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m waiting for somebody.”
Gathering up the final few glasses, he asks, “Hate to ask, but you got any ID?”
My heart makes its way to my throat. “Yep,” I shakily reply, pulling out my purse and showing him my provisional license.
The man who looks a little older than me, studies the picture, one eyebrow raising. “Two rum and cokes, coming right up.”
He holds out my ID, and I take it from his hand. “Is something wrong?” Instant heat blanches across my cheeks. I know nothing is, but I saw the weird look of shock on his face.
The barman stands straight. “Nope,” he says right away, skilfully holding empty glasses in his fingers. “I was just wondering why I haven’t seen you in here before.”
Putting away my purse, my voice thickens. I’m not about to admit that I’m scared and wish I hadn’t come out at all. “I don’t go out much.”
Oh, because that’s so much better.
Christ. My honest, and quite frankly, pathetic truth makes him smile. “Well, new faces are always nice to see.”
I look around, avoiding eye contact, feeling stupid.
“I’ll be right back with those drinks.”
I watch him walk away, spotting someone looking over.
With my shoulders suddenly hunched, I try to mind my own business, hoping I get lucky when I call Holly again. This time, when I press call, it goes straight to voicemail.
I try again.
No answer.
Opening up my messages, I send her a text.
Where are you? Is everything alright? Please let me know you’re okay. I’m worried.
My hands are shaking as I wait for her to read it.
Which she doesn’t. Fear starts to eat away inside of me. This is so unlike her. What if something’s wrong?
When the barman comes back over with the drinks, the smile that pulls on his face is one I’m familiar with. Pity.
“Two rum and cokes for you and… somebody.”
Is he making fun of me?
“Thank you.” I don’t look at him, hoping he’ll walk away and leave me alone once I’ve paid.
I grab my purse again. “How much do I owe you?”
He holds up his hand. “Nothing,” he sings.
His response has my eyes darting upwards.
“The drinks were paid for at the bar.”
“By who?” I lean to look around him, but I don’t see anyone I recognise.
He turns as if he’s looking as well but quickly looks back at me. “Didn’t catch a name. He just offered to pay.” He shrugs. “And considering you’re still waiting for somebody to show, I figured why not take him up on his offer.”
Dropping my purse into my bag, I curl my fingers around each other.
“He?” I try to look again, but everyone who is sitting around the bar is deep in conversation.
I don’t get why anyone would pay for my drinks, considering I don’t know anyone here.
I can’t be certain, but what if the person who bought the drinks is the person who followed me?
“If I see him again, should I send him over?”
My heart reaches my throat. “No,” I fire at the barman, making him stand taller.
“No, don’t do that,” I say, much less shouty this time, unlocking my hands and taking a large sip of my drink.
I don’t even know if I was followed. I’m letting my thoughts run away from me. I need to pull myself together.
With a slight laugh, the barman nods. “Got it.”
He leaves me on my own again, and as soon as he’s out of sight, I make my retreat to the ladies’, urgently locking the door and sitting on the lid of the toilet, a black, creeping sense of dread sneaking up on me.
I need to leave. Once I’ve calmed down, I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know what I was thinking, stepping into a place I’m unfamiliar with. No wonder I feel so out of my depth.
Going to work on my own is huge for me. Going out on my own, is another thing entirely. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have even attempted it. What I should have done is waited until Holly could come get me or been brave and asked one of my parents to give me a lift.
I guess this is my problem. I’m so caught up in trying to prove I can do these normal things, instead of admitting that I can’t.
I mean look at me. I’m twenty-one, and I’m hiding in the toilets because my best friend is a no show, and I think someone who potentially followed me, has gone and bought me a drink.
My brows draw together.
Fuck. I’m so stupid.
I rub the creases on my forehead, my eyes firmly closed. Then I breathe in. And I breathe out, letting some of the tension escape.
When I finally feel able to stand, I push to my feet.
The door to the ladies’ opens, and I hear someone walk in. Whoever is in here closes the stall door, so I pointlessly flush the toilet, and go to wash my hands.
I splash some cold water on my face and grab a paper towel, dabbing it to my cheeks. That’s better.
Then my phone dings in my bag, making my heart race.
Paddy: Curly fries, I’m back in Stoney Grange. Fancy some company if you’re walking Kevin tomorrow?
I’m sad it’s not Holly messaging, but just hearing from someone familiar, instantly makes me feel more relaxed.
Sure. That would be great
Paddy: Everything alright?
How does he know? And more so, how do I respond to that? Um, no, you didn’t reply when I implied that we’re more than just friends then you disappeared like it’s no big deal.
Yes
Paddy: Curly fries?
Why does he insist on calling me that?
No, okay? Everything is not alright
Paddy: What’s wrong? Where are you?
At the pub just outside of Stoney Grange
Paddy: Are you with somebody?
No. Holly didn’t show. I’m waiting here on my own
It takes a minute for Paddy to reply.
Paddy: Don’t leave until I’m there
I wasn’t expecting my heart to kick the way that it does. Checking my reflection in the mirror, there is a light dusting of pink blushing my cheeks. All because Paddy O’Keefe said he’s coming to get me.
I don’t know what relationship we have—if any—but I am one hundred per cent more at ease knowing that out of everyone I trust, he’s the one coming for me.
Because that’s what it is. I trust him. He’s never let me down. In all the years that I have known him, I have always felt safer when Paddy has been there.
I open the door to the ladies’ and make my way back to my table, only to find it’s no longer free. There’s a man with messy hair sitting there, looking at me. But it’s not just any man. It’s someone I thought I was done seeing for good.
“Rory?”
He stands to his full height, which is the same as mine. “Morgan, hi.”
Hesitant, I take a few slow steps towards him. “What are you doing here?” And more so, why is he sitting at my table?
Rory points a hand towards the two drinks. “I got you those.”
Oh. “Thank you,” I say half-heartedly. “You didn’t need to do that.” In an awkward attempt not to have to engage in any more conversation, I stand by the side of the table.
Rory looks me up and down and laughs. “Are you not going to sit down?” His eyes drop to my bare legs, making me shudder.
If only to stop him looking, I sit on the chair I was occupying before hiding, tucking the bottom of my dress under my legs.
“That’s better. Now we can catch up.”
“Catch up?” I ask, a wry smile on my face. I don’t want to catch up with Rory Lane.
He laughs again, only this time, he moves closer to me. “Morgan, how long has it been? One? Two years?”
“Three,” I say bluntly.
His eyes widen. “Wow, that long. How’ve you been?” He picks up his pint and takes a sip, which sounds more like a desperate gulp.