Chapter Sixteen Zig
Zig hadn’t noticed it on the way up the tor—he’d had his back to it—but someone had stuck large, hand-drawn letters on the fence of the sheep field reading GO WITH LOVE. Like, not even advertising something. Simply wishing love to random strangers. Zig’s stomach felt funny, looking at it.
He shook his head. Get a grip. It was probably hunger making him feel weird. It had to be lunchtime by now.
As if to prove it, Kai was eating their sandwich when he got down to the gate, and gave Zig a wave. Zig strolled over to them. “Not bad up there, innit? Got free entertainment and everything.”
“Yeah, I saw Max and Leah going up. They’re good, aren’t they?” Kai smiled.
Zig nodded. “They were talking about the solstice. Thought I might come along to that.”
“You should,” Kai said enthusiastically. Then they frowned. “Better wrap up warmer, though.”
“Too bloody right.” Zig shivered. “I’m heading into town to warm up a bit. You gonna be okay here?”
Kai held up a takeaway cup from a coffee shop. “I’m good, ta.”
“See you around, then.” Hand on the latch of the gate, Zig paused and turned back. “You got a phone, mate?”
He got a wary look in return.
“Shit. Sorry. This ain’t a come-on, and I ain’t trying to shake you down.
Just wanna give you my number. In case you need, I dunno, someone to talk to?
” Zig cringed inside. Yep, Kai was definitely going to be having words with their mates about him.
Something along the lines of, Watch out for the sad lonely bastard.
Kai brightened, though. “You can tell me it. I’ll remember. Got a memory thing.”
They were probably saying that to get rid of him, but Zig rattled off his number anyhow, then headed back down the path to town. He found a café on the high street, grabbed himself a bacon sandwich and a latte, and made them last, before checking his phone to see if anyone was trying to reach him.
No one was. It was equal parts a relief and really sodding sad.
After meandering round the town a bit more, Zig remembered he wanted a book of folktales and headed for the library.
He liked libraries; they were warm, and nobody cared if you sat there for ages reading a book.
Unlike bookshops, which understandably preferred you to buy the thing and bugger off home with it.
He found the library on a road off the high street, not far from a church with largish grounds in the centre of town. It was a modern, brick-built, flat-roofed building, with trendy round windows, and called itself a “hub,” but the staff seemed welcoming enough.
Disappointingly, he couldn’t find any books of local folktales. Maybe all the copies were out on loan, or had been stolen. Although, stealing would probably be bad karma or whatever people who were into that stuff believed in.
Course, technically speaking, Zig was into that stuff, and he didn’t have a clue what he believed in.
Anyway, libraries always had plenty of classics.
Since it was nearly Christmas, he probably ought to check out a Dickens to get in the mood, but fuck it, he was a rebel.
Zig had a browse through the Thomas Hardies, ignoring Tess and Jude, cos who needed that depressing shit?
He picked out Under the Greenwood Tree, another Christmassy book, and settled down for a reread.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closing now, my lover.” The soft voice jolted him out of the rural world of the Mellstock Quire and back into shitty reality.
“Uh, right. Sorry. I’ll be on me way.” Belatedly, Zig grinned cheekily to the middle-aged woman in a cardi.
She went pink, which was rich for someone who’d called him her lover with no sign of embarrassment. “Did you want to take the book home?”
“Uh, thanks, but I ain’t got a card. Just visiting. Went to the tor today,” he added, cos apparently he was a total saddo who was desperate for someone to talk to.
She brightened. “Oh? It’s lovely up there, isn’t it? Like you can see the whole world. Have you been to the Chalice Well? They do it up so nicely at this time of year.”
“Next on me list,” he promised, wondering what the hell a Chalice Well was. Si would know, he thought, and felt himself go pink as well. Serves you bloody right. “Well, cheers. You have a nice night, yeah?”
“And you.” She sounded a little breathless.
Zig checked his phone as he sauntered out of the library and into the dark streets. Five o’clock. Would Si be finished with work yet? He searched Glastonbury locksmith, but it turned out there were way more than one and, like an idiot, he hadn’t asked Si the name of the place he worked for.
And yeah, he could go back to Si’s and get Esme to let him in, but . . . Fuck it, he was a coward. He didn’t wanna face her without Si as a buffer.
He decided to go for a drink, ask if there were any jobs going, and turn up at Si’s later. There was a pub a short way down the road, its lights warm and inviting, so he ducked inside. The place was pretty dead, so they probably weren’t hiring, but he asked anyhow.
“Sorry, my lover,” the girl behind the bar said with a look of genuine regret. “We’re fully staffed.”
Yep. He’d called it. Funny how the confirmation didn’t make him feel any better.
“Have you asked at the Prince of Wales?” the barmaid went on. “I heard from my friend Immi they were looking for staff.”
Zig’s mood perked right up. “Yeah? Guess I’ll head on over there. Cheers. You have a good night.”
She beamed. “And you. Tell Ange that Chrissie sent you.”
He quickly googled the Prince of Wales. It was the other end of town but, heh, there wasn’t a right lot of town; it was only minutes away on foot.
Zig’s phone took him down a side street, and there the Prince of Wales was, its white-painted front lit up yellow by a couple of carriage lamps and an old-fashioned streetlight.
Inside, it wasn’t exactly plush, with half the floor bare wood, but there was more of a buzz than there had been in the last place.
Not bad, for early Thursday evening. Zig cast an eye around, then sauntered up to the bar.
The barmaid was middle-aged, with a fondness for henna and animal print, like she wanted to leave people with no doubt as to her profession. She certainly made Zig feel right at home, and he flashed her a smile.
She raised a cynical eyebrow, which made him feel even more at home. “What can I get you?”
“I’m looking for a lady called Ange.”
The barmaid folded her arms. “Because?”
“Lovely young lady called Chrissie at the Isle of Avalon said you might be looking for staff.”
“Got experience, have you?”
Well, he couldn’t let that one go. “Oh, I got plenty. What kind of experience are you looking for?”
She snorted. “You’re full of yourself, and no mistake.”
“Everyone always tells me I’m full of something.” Zig leaned on the bar and gave her his best grin.
She laughed aloud. “No argument there. I’m Ange.”
“Zig.”
“You working right now?”
“Nah. New in town.”
“What brings a Londoner like you out west, then?”
“It’s the accents. Can’t get enough of people calling me moi loverrr.” Zig laid it on thick, then hoped he hadn’t overdone it.
She snorted. “Don’t you go expecting that from me. Can you do weekends? That’s Fridays as well.”
“I’m easy.”
“I’ve no doubt. Be here at five tomorrow, and we’ll see how we go. It’s minimum wage, mind, till you’ve been here three months, then an extra five percent if we keep you on. That okay with you?”
“Peachy,” Zig said, and meant it. Fuck, was it really this easy? “How about a drink to seal the deal? Vodka and ice, and one for yourself?”
“Long as you’re paying. And there’s no drinking on the job.”
“No problem.” Zig laid a twenty on the bar with a smile.
She took it, filled his order, and gave him what looked like too much change for two drinks, but Zig didn’t call her on it. He reckoned she knew what she was doing. He saluted quickly, and she nodded, turning to the next punter.
Zig eased his arse onto the last free barstool and savoured his vodka—the bite of the alcohol and the almost painful chill of the ice.
Fuck me, I’ve got a job. He spent the time keeping an eye on the bar staff.
There were two of them, both nearer his age than Ange’s, and they were friendly and efficient.
They wore Prince of Wales polo shirts, which meant he’d have to as well, but at least they were black with a discreet logo, not some cheap chest print that’d have him wincing at mirrors. Yeah. He could do this.