Chapter Seven
‘One more go. You’ll get it,’ Danny, the manager of the union bar, tells me a few days later.
‘I have to get it. Or you’ll fire me on day one,’ I reply, attempting to pull yet another pint. I’ve had a couple of goes. I’m crap. I thought this would be a breeze, but the white foamy head on each pint I pull is the size of a tower block. The actual beer measure is minuscule.
Every time someone orders one, Danny rushes over, watches me like a hawk, places his hand on mine on the pump and guides me on how to do it. He winces as I get it wrong another time. I’ve been here about an hour. I’m surely getting it wrong too much to last the day.
‘Don’t fire me yet,’ I plead, making Danny laugh. I thought I’d ace this. How hard can working behind a bar be? Now that I’m eighteen I can work behind a bar, whereas all the other hospitality jobs I’ve had have been ferrying plates of food back and forth.
‘This is my first time pulling pints,’ I confess again.
‘You’ve said that three times,’ Danny insists. He’s in his twenties, doing a Masters in hospitality, and this job is a stepping stone to something much bigger eventually, or so he says. For now, though, poor Danny is stuck here helping me waste a barrel of beer on practice runs.
Ollie enters, carrying a huge medical textbook under one arm and a rucksack in his other. He sees me, waves his hand back and forth, giving me a Should I come over? kind of signal. I nod encouragingly and then, just in case there’s any doubt, I wave him towards me.
Danny leaves me practising and goes to serve someone else.
‘How was your first lecture?’ I ask. ‘Mine start tomorrow.’
‘Lucky you,’ Ollie replies, his brown eyes shining excitedly. ‘Yeah, I really enjoyed it. Thank God. Lecturers are nice so far. Day one, though … you know – how hard could it be?’
‘What are the other students on your course like?’ I ask immediately.
‘Nice. Bit of a mix, but mostly very serious. How’s it going here? Well done on getting the job by the way.’
‘Thanks. Not sure I’ll be keeping it,’ I confess. ‘I’m struggling to pull pints.’
‘Oh, I’m no help, I’m afraid. Looks fun, though. Can I have a go?’
‘Maybe later,’ I say. ‘Don’t want to piss off Danny any more. He’s being very patient while we waste shitloads of beer. What can I get you?’ I ask, excited to serve my first proper customer.
‘Americano and one of those croissants,’ he says, pointing to a glass-domed cake stand.
‘Croissants are a bit stale,’ I whisper, glancing at Danny to check he’s not in earshot.
‘Crisps?’ Ollie suggests.
‘Safe,’ I reply and fetch him a pack of salt-and-vinegar.
‘How’d you know I want that flavour?’
‘You always eat salt-and-vinegar. It’s all that’s in your cupboard.’
Ollie looks a little put out.
‘You want a different flavour?’ I ask. ‘Cheese-and-onion?’
‘No,’ he says sheepishly.
‘And instead of a coffee,’ I say in a theatrical voice, as if I’m hosting QVC, ‘why don’t you choose something from our very fantastic draught selection. So I can practise,’ I point out.
Ollie exhales a loud sigh. ‘Fine. Cider, please.’
‘Or what about a lovely pint of lager?’ I suggest in my TV-presenter voice before switching back to my normal one. ‘Or even a Guinness. Because I specifically need to get this foam-business sorted out.’
Ollie laughs. ‘Fine, fine – whatever.’
I reach over and give his hand a squeeze of gratitude before calling Danny over to supervise.
‘Another one?’ I ask Ollie, who is still propping up the bar two hours later.
‘I’ve had two,’ he says. ‘And I didn’t even want one. Am I allowed a coffee yet?’
‘OK,’ I concede flatly. ‘If you must. Americano?’
‘Yes, please. Drunk medical student is not a good look,’ he replies. ‘These words are starting to swim in front of my eyes.’ He closes his textbook and I attempt to look interested while he tells me what he’s just read.
I pull out my copy of Bleak House from behind the bar, having imagined there might be a quiet moment to finish it in time for tomorrow’s nineteenth-century literature lecture.
I was wrong. It’s been busy non-stop with students enjoying the freedom to day-drink without parental supervision, or I’ve been loading and unloading the dishwasher, taking deliveries and hanging up the new packs of crisps.
I line my copy of Bleak House up against Ollie’s book. ‘Dickens wins,’ I declare. ‘Nine hundred and sixty-five pages against your …’ I open his book and flick to the last page, ‘seven hundred and ninety, and however many pages this appendix takes up.’
Ollie takes my book, opens it at random while I make his coffee. He looks engrossed when I return. ‘What made you choose it?’ he asks idly.
‘It’s a set text for the course. I had no choice.’
He pushes Bleak House back across the bar towards me. ‘Not the book. The course. Why’d you choose literature?’
‘Oh. Just wanted a degree, an experience. I like books, reading is easy.’
‘Reading is easy?’ He looks stunned. ‘Seriously? How is critiquing the reading? How’s writing two-thousand-word essays about the reading? What did you get at A-Level?’
‘That’s a personal question.’
‘No, it’s not.’
I laugh at his bluntness. ‘I got a C.’
‘In literature?’
‘I was predicted an A.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Not sure. I had an off-day perhaps, at exam time? I don’t know. It’s the only subject I enjoy, though.’
Ollie’s quiet, watching me. I see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. His T-shirt is fairly tight against his skin, for a change, and I suspect he’s quite well built under there. I might ask Liv.
‘And you chose this as a degree?’ he asks gently, but the question is rhetorical.
‘What else was I going to choose?’
He shrugs.
‘We can’t all be medical superstars, Doctor Ollie.’
‘Fine, Librarian Aury – Aurora,’ he corrects himself.
‘Still got it in your head my name is Aury?’
‘Aurora’s too hard to say after two pints of lager and an almost-empty stomach,’ he jokes.
‘Want more crisps?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘You can call me Aury, if you like. I’ll let you nickname me. A special privilege reserved only for you.’
‘In exchange for what?’ he asks, his dark eyes flashing with shared conspiracy.
‘Order another pint, so I can practise, and I’ll tell you.’
‘I’m being conned,’ he says, conceding defeat. I hand him his pint after concentrating so hard. The foam on the top is definitely smaller than the last one I poured him. I wait for Ollie to comment. He rotates it slowly, examining it with humour in his eyes.
‘Well?’ I ask.
‘Congratulations. It looks like a normal pint,’ he says.
‘Yes!’ I exclaim. ‘For that, I’ll even buy it for you.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ he says and hands me the money.
‘Thank God, as I don’t get paid for another month.’
‘Ouch!’ he says and drinks a mouthful, getting foam on his upper lip.
I reach out instinctively, brush it from my friend’s face.
Ollie looks at me as I touch him, his gaze holding mine, and there’s a companionable silence between us.
I smile, reluctant to move away, and there’s no one else to serve yet.
Soon the last of the day’s lectures and tutorials will finish and the bar will be heaving.
At least now I know how to pull pints successfully. It’s taken me all day.
‘What’s going on with you and Ben?’ Ollie asks quietly, watching me.
‘What’s going on with you and Liv?’ I counter.
‘Probably the same thing that’s going on with you and Ben,’ Ollie replies with a grin.
‘Probably not,’ I reply.
‘No?’
‘Ben and I – once only. And now we’re getting to know each other properly before we go down that road again. His suggestion, not mine.’
Ollie frowns. ‘Really? That’s …’ He shakes his head as if he doesn’t know what that is. I don’t know what it is, either.
‘Intense?’ I volunteer.
He nods, slowly, but I don’t want to dissect my situation with Ben. I do want to dissect his situation with lovely Liv, though.
‘I like Liv,’ Ollie says after I prompt him. ‘She’s sweet.’
‘She is,’ I concur.
‘She’s … hot,’ he goes on. ‘And nice. And easy to be with.’
‘She is. And?’ I nudge.
‘And … that’s it. We’re enjoying being in each other’s company.’ I don’t get the chance to interrupt as he continues, ‘So let me get this straight. You and Ben did the dirty on freshers’ night and after that – nothing?’
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘But, in fairness, it’s only been a few days and we’ve kissed a few times.
Knowing we can’t do anything else is …’ I give a little tremor of delighted anticipation.
‘Snatched moments in the corridor on the way to and from the kitchen. I thought once I might lure him in by sexy-kissing him while I was sitting on the kitchen countertop and he was standing, waiting for the kettle to boil, and I’d wrapped my legs around him, but …
no dice. We’re going out for dinner later.
And I’m excited. Is that weird? It’s like Ben’s given me the appetiser and taken away the main course for a while. The anticipation is getting hot now.’
Ollie looks stunned.
‘Sorry, is this too much information?’ I ask.
‘No. Ben’s got you hanging on, though, hasn’t he?’
‘What? No, he hasn’t.’
‘Yes, he has. You’re practically salivating over him and his promises of more.’
‘Shut up,’ I say, swatting Ollie on the arm.
‘Ow,’ he replies, followed by a tone of obvious awe. ‘It’s fucking clever. Wish I’d thought of that.’
‘No need,’ I say. ‘Liv is totally into you.’
‘And you’re not into Ben? Is that why this is happening?’
‘I …’ I’m not sure how to answer that. ‘I just thought it would be a one-night thing and, when I told Ben that, this was his counterplan. I’m quite enjoying it. And him. He’s surprising me. And he seems quite into me.’
‘If you’re not into Ben, you have to tell him.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ I reply. ‘Don’t put words in my mouth.’
‘All right, calm down,’ Ollie replies.
‘Telling a female to calm down is a brave move,’ I say in a dark voice and Ollie cough-laughs on his pint. ‘You know it just has the opposite effect?’
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Look, what you and Ben get up to – or don’t get up to – is nothing to do with me.’
‘Exactly,’ I reply, unsure why we’re having this strange discussion, although we both went into it with our eyes open.
Ollie holds up his hands in defeat. ‘I do sort of wish Liv and I hadn’t done what we’d done,’ he admits.
‘I wish we’d waited a bit now, but she’s persuasive and sexy, and I was horny in that club with her grinding up against me.
It was unexpected. One second I was dancing with you and then suddenly she was there and …
I rushed headlong into it in the club, and now it’s sort of continued.
I can’t help feeling that getting with my flatmate is, generally speaking, not the cleverest idea I’ve ever had. ’
‘Same here,’ I say, and Ollie and I look at each other regretfully for a moment, two moments.
‘Well, let’s hope it works out then,’ Ollie suggests, attempting to brighten. And I can’t tell if he’s talking about himself and Liv, Ben and me, or all four of us together.