23. Present Day – New Year’s Eve
23
PRESENT DAY – NEW YEAR’S EVE
SCOTT
N ate had colluded with some regulars and decided what tonight needed was a darts competition, karaoke, and a New Year’s Eve cocktail menu. The buggers had been on at me for weeks to do a big event and, to shut them up, I relented on the darts, negotiated a music playlist they could sing along to rather than full-blown karaoke, and agreed to one new themed cocktail: a Bull’s Eye.
Enzo, now my right-hand man, is organising the darts and serving that end of the bar. Over the last couple of months, I’ve been training him up to take on some of the running of the pub. After all, it was never supposed to be just me.
His wife, Lucia, has made some snacks that are over at a table in the corner. They look amazing but I’ve been too busy to try them, although the punters seem to be enjoying them. It all helps make tonight seem a bit different. It’s New Year’s, so perhaps I could have done more, but the buzz of happy locals says they’re content at least.
I want the pub to do well, I do. But Marcus should be here, too — it was our dream to do this together. He should be enjoying life, doing this with me. But he’s not. And I took that away from him. So I need to make The Bull a success in his honour. But not too successful. I don’t deserve that.
Ice cubes crunch in the bottom of the cocktail pitcher and I inspect the watery dregs.
‘Can you mix another batch of Bull’s Eye?’ I ask Jamie.
‘Better make up a couple. My sister will be in soon.’
Jamie’s sister. Something else — someone else — I don’t deserve. There goes my appetite. Not being with her makes me feel hollow. Sick, almost.
As if simply thinking about Josie would summon her, I slide my eyes to the door and then back to Jamie. I release a breath. She’s not here yet.
‘Oh, fuck,’ Jamie breathes, and for a brief moment I worry he’s cut himself while slicing lemons for the cocktail.
He turns to me, eyes bulging, but skin intact.
‘What?’ I match his hushed tone, adrenaline ratcheting upwards at his clear discomfort.
‘My parents are here.’ More to himself, he mumbles, ‘Are they actually trying to destroy me? Do they think they'll convince me to leave by coming here? Can you die from embarrassment?’
A perplexed snort bursts out of me at the look on the lad’s face, and I realise I haven’t done anything this close to laughing in weeks. Months, truthfully. But his mortified expression soon sobers me. I purposefully avoid looking directly at them, instead locating them in the mirrored wall behind the bar.
Mrs Clarke’s lips are thin, drawn together in a line.
‘I thought you said she didn’t mind you working here?’ I ask through a clenched jaw, while they look around, moving closer to the bar.
‘I implied she didn’t mind.’ His gaze darts around wildly, as if scouting escape routes. ‘I wanted the job.’
‘And you’re telling me this now?’ I whisper.
‘Yeah. You said to be honest.’ He has a point. ‘So, to be honest, she fucking hates the idea. But please, I need this job. She’ll try and sabotage this. Please don’t listen to anything she?—’
‘Go grab some more ice.’ I motion towards the kitchen area.
He seizes his chance to disappear without argument, grabs the ice tray and flees. I pretend to put something away and watch the reflection of his parents getting nearer and nearer.
Jamie’s angst put my own feelings on a backburner, but now I’m faced with having to speak to them and it makes me feel like a kid again. I’m fifteen and telling them Marcus and I are in A&E with concussion. I’m seventeen and creeping back into their house to get Marcus’s drunk ass into bed. I’m twenty-one and trying to explain what happened to Marcus while he’s in emergency surgery.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to steel myself. Nope, I’m back to being eight years old and pulling on toy armour in their garden.
Janet’s hand is resting on the bar when I turn around. Several rings are crowded on her fingers, her skin more papery than I’d remembered. It’s been eight years since I’ve properly seen her — that night in the hospital a few months ago doesn’t count. I was laser focused on Josie.
I scan up her slight frame, shrouded in a black dress, until I finally look at her and find her eyes appraising me. At one time in my life, this lady was like a second mum to me.
‘Hello again, Scottie.’ Her voice is quiet, like the volume is turned down, as if a part of her is dimmed. The nickname sounds peculiar to my ears. It’s a name for someone who isn’t me anymore, yet, hearing it, seeing them, I’m right back to being that awkward teenager.
‘Mrs. Clarke.’ I dip my head towards her and then look over to her husband towering next to her, his arctic-blue eyes inscrutable. ‘Mr. Clarke. Happy New Year.’ I force a smile, force my voice to be light.
She shakes her head and tuts. ‘It’s Janet and David.’
They both seem older than the eight years that have passed. David’s hair is a close cropped grey and Janet has a peppering too, but who am I to judge? I’ve noticed one or two greys creeping in to my sideburns recently.
‘What can I get you?’
‘Is Jamie here?’
‘I’m sure he’ll be back in a minute.’ I’m beginning to regret sending him away. He’d have been moral support, but I was trying to give him some time to process his parents turning up unannounced.
‘You did it after all,’ she says softly. ‘You run a pub.’ Janet’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She scans around the place, and I’m cringingly aware that it’s underwhelming.
‘Yeah, almost eight years now.’
The truth weighs heavy on me. This was supposed to be Marcus’s project, too. We’d made enquiries on this place before the accident. Afterwards, I carried on with the plan as a way to honour him. But, while I wanted to do it for him, I’m not sure my heart has ever been fully in it.
David’s gaze narrows and he opens his mouth to say something, but Jamie comes back, clattering the ice down as he arrives.
‘Hey, didn’t know you guys were coming.’ His voice light and casual.
‘Thought we should see what you’re getting yourself into, Jamie,’ Janet replies, that fake smile bullying its way across her face. ‘Make sure it’s safe. A good environment.’ She gives the pub another once-over and it makes me wonder if I really have done enough to honour Marcus.
Wanting to reassure her, I hold my hands up. ‘This is a quiet country pub. Jamie won’t get into any bother here. And, for only his second shift, he’s doing great.’
Jamie offers me a glowing grin and, for the first time, I see a resemblance to Josie in him.
David exhales loudly, but doesn’t say anything.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Jamie asks his parents, and I sense his mum relaxing slightly as she climbs onto a bar stool.
‘It’s on the house,’ I add. A small way of trying to please them. Trying to impress them, really.
Jamie pours out two glasses of Bull’s Eye, and then goes to serve some other customers, but I linger at the bar with his parents. I feel there’s stuff that still needs to be said, and something is pressing me to say it now, whether I’ve got the words straight in my head or not.
‘I’m so relieved Jamie was okay,’ I say, and Janet looks at me sharply. ‘After that accident.’
‘Well,’ David looks me in the eye as he speaks, ‘you legged it out of that waiting room so fast, I was sure it’d be another eight years before we saw you again.’ This man rarely says anything unless there is something he really needs to say. And then he can be brutal. I know that from experience.
‘I’m … I’m sorry I … didn’t check in more … after Marcus …’
‘More?’ Janet scans me up and down. ‘Scottie,’ she sighs, my name tinged with disappointment, ‘you didn’t check in at all.’
I regret that. I really do. I wish I could have been there for Jamie, for Josie. I should have got over myself and stopped by, but it was too hard. I was scared of what they’d say — what they thought of me.
David gives me a warning look. ‘Now, Janet, Scottie had his whole life ahead of him.’ He takes on an imperious tone. ‘He didn’t want to be chained to us.’
I scrub my hand into my hair, feeling awkward. ‘ No .’ My voice comes out too loudly. ‘It wasn’t that at all. I just …’ I remember our conversation the day of the funeral. I was young then — blindsided and devastated. I’d asked David what I could do, swore that I’d do anything. I recall the pain in his eyes as he’d hissed, haven’t you done enough? I can’t even look at you. And I’d bolted. Run away in shame. Wrapped up in my own guilt and grief, I’d been too selfish to think of anyone else. ‘There’s no excuse. I’m sorry.’
‘I appreciate that, Scottie.’ There’s a glint in her eye, a sliver of warmth. She looks around with a suck of her teeth. ‘I can’t believe my baby is old enough to work in a pub.’
Grateful for the shift in focus, I say, ‘He really is doing a great job so far.’
Janet gives me a smile. A real one. One I remember from when we were younger and, for the first time, I feel that maybe she can forgive me.
David huffs again, says something to Janet and walks off. I presume towards the gents or to check out the darts, but Janet stays perched at the bar, her posture folding in a little more. I’m drawn to her, not wanting her to be alone in a strange pub. Jamie’s serving a customer, so I loiter nearby.
I can sense unasked questions radiating off her. Probably, where the fuck did I go? Who the fuck do I think I am?
I hid. I was too ashamed. I couldn’t face them.
And who am I? I’m nothing . No one. A loser who isn’t good enough for Josie, or her brother, Marcus.
I’ve done many, many stupid things in my time, but the most unforgivable is the accident that took Marcus’s life. That, and getting hooked on Josie. This is my punishment, I guess. The only thing I’ve ever really wanted is to be with her, and I can’t. Being her friend is all I get. I can look out for her. I can be happy for her when she moves on. And it might just kill me.
Janet fiddles with a beer mat and I wipe over the pumps, silent, but wanting to be supportive in some sort of way.
‘It is good to see you again,’ she says after a moment.
I pause my wiping. Was not expecting that.
Meeting her eyes, I say, ‘I am sorry?—’
She holds up her palm as if my apology isn’t needed again. ‘And thank God it’s under better circumstances than last time. How did you know about the accident?’ Her voice is wispy over the music. ‘Jamie’s accident. What made you come?’
Josie , I shout in my head. I wanted to be there for Josie, Jamie, all of you.
‘It was on the news,’ I say. ‘Then my brother told me it was Jamie and I came as soon as I could. I couldn’t bear the thought …’
‘I know.’ She lets me off the hook so I don’t have to say it out loud. ‘It was … Josie never mentioned she’d … reconnected with you.’
That’s one way of putting it.
I flush and suddenly find the beer taps very interesting as she continues, ‘What happened?’
‘We met at a party.’
Her eyes widen a little.
‘We’re just friends,’ I follow up quickly, reminding myself as much as telling her.
Janet smiles sadly, and I can only guess what she’s thinking. Maybe, that it’s like old times with Marcus and I going to parties. Or maybe she’s thinking Marcus doesn’t get to go out to parties anymore. My pulse pounds in my ears as I wonder how she’d look if she knew the whole truth.
A blur of movement catches my attention and I realise I was right this time. Saying her name had summoned her. Josie comes towards the bar, and it’s like the world slows while I take in her bleached blonde hair with pink tips, a white t-shirt tucked into what appears to be a silver leather mini skirt. My mouth twitches up when I notice a splodge of purple paint on her dark boots.
She rests her hand on her mum’s shoulder and presses a kiss to each cheek, a collection of mismatched bracelets catching the light. One with wooden beads reminds me of something I had when I was sixteen. Perhaps it’s because it’s New Year’s Eve, or perhaps it’s seeing the Clarke’s, but memories of my younger self are potent tonight.
‘Mum?’ Her voice is soft, quiet. It doesn’t sound like her. ‘What are you doing here?’
Janet smooths a lock of Josie’s hair behind her ear. ‘Just wanted to see where Jamie’s got himself a job.’
With a closed-lip, half smile, Josie gives a muted, ‘Nice.’ I could swear her shoulders have crumpled a fraction. She swallows and looks to me. ‘Hi.’
Fuck, I wish I could go round to her, hold her, kiss her. She looks like she needs a hug.
‘Hi,’ I settle for instead. ‘I was just telling your mum how well Jamie’s doing.’
She gives a proper Josie beam, and my chest loosens a little.
I can sense her mum watching, eyes volleying between us, and I swallow, hoping I’m not broadcasting I want your daughter or anything more incriminating.
‘Everything okay, love?’ Janet asks.
Josie nods, giving another smile that I don’t believe. ‘Great, yeah. Really great,’ she murmurs and nods some more, like the nodding will make up for the lack of sincerity. ‘How are you?’
Their interchange is guarded, stilted, and I’m not sure what I’m seeing. It’s like she’s being careful, and trying to make herself something other. Smaller. Before I can think on it, David returns, and I hate how my gut clenches when I see him, when I remember his words. I can’t even look at you.