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Great Writing - Home > Extended > Three accounts of events - part 24
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Extended Work
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| Three accounts of events - part 24 | |
| By teddy | ||||||
| 28 November 2007 | ||||||
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Whilst the evening was dusking down upon the narrow windows of the old Red Lion, inside the pub the mood was just starting to warm up. Two young barmaids were meddling with the beverage bottles lined up on the shelves stuck against the wall, rushed off their feet to meet the demands of the dozen thirsty customers leaning against the dark wooden bar. The tables scattered evenly across the room were all taken up. Less fortunate late comers were cradling their glasses slumped against walls, some cluttered around the narrow sills surrounding two symmetrical columns shoring up the ceiling. Nevertheless, seated or standing, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, relentless jolly chatter weaving with a young George Michael’s ‘Last Christmas’ song. It was Christmas Eve and people were celebrating. At a secluded table placed by one of the far end windows George was at his fifth vodka and tonic. It was not in his intentions to get drunk. He didn’t want to stay sober either and so far the drink had sent his mind floating somewhere above the thin edge between the two. He thought about Anne. She hadn’t been happy she’d had to go on her own. She’d given him a hard time about it right until the last minute. He’d tried his best to come up with a decent excuse, but she’d refused to accept it. In the end he’d given up, making her comprehend why he couldn’t have possibly accompanied her seemed an impossible aim. He had signed the card, given her money for the present. He had sent his apologises. But that was just as far as his contribution could stretch to. He knew she would understand. She had always understood him better than anyone else. She wouldn’t blame him for not being there. With all her family and the other friends around, she might have not even noticed his absence. He sighed and picked up the glass. Tomorrow things were going to be different. It was time to put everything behind and start fresh. He had no idea how he was going to do that, but he had promised himself to try at least. Until then he had a whole night ahead of him and he didn’t want to let it go just yet. He had arrived in Carlton late last night. He hadn’t been here since the accident and the aloof shape of the cottage had gloomed on him as he had stepped out the car. Inside it was welcomingly warm - he had asked Donna, the lady he’d hired to look after the house, to pop in that afternoon and put on the heating – still, the lonesome feeling had followed him as he had ambled across the floors. The place was immaculate, but everything was untouched just as he had left them. The basket of toys resting quietly next to the wood burning stove in the living room, an unfinished book lying face-down open on the side table. The jar of rippled body cream, a shiny lipstick grazing against a solitary hair brush on the dressing table upstairs in the bedroom. A desolate fluffy-brown teddy bear held captive by a giant squashy squid underneath the cot in the nursery. Every room a numb snapshot of a life he had once treasured more than anything else in the world. He ran his fingers along the glass almost as if seeking some sort of comfort from the coolness of its smooth surface. Tomorrow he will pack everything away, put everything in boxes, shift them all in the loft. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to hang onto it just a tad longer. After going through every room in the house, he’d shuffled his feet downstairs to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. He’d sat down at the table and drunk it all, his eyes glued to the scribbled note lying in front of him. ‘Remind me to tell you something when I get home tonight. It’s important.’ The wine had helped him scrape through the night. ‘Would you mind if I sit here?’ He looked up at the young woman standing next to the table. A glass of white wine in her hand and a light beige coat draped over her free arm, she was smiling at him, a friendly but slightly embarrassed smile. A pair of bright blue eyes looked discordant on an overly rich feigned tan, but the thick layers of curly brown hair falling freely over her shoulders softened the pretentious air of her face. Late twenties he had a guess. ‘No, of course not.’ He returned her smile politely. She stretched an arm across the table as she sat down on the chair opposite. ‘Kylie.’ He hesitated for a moment, being approached so directly by a woman wasn’t exactly something he’d often encounter and didn’t quite know how to deal with it. He decided not to make rushed assumptions, perhaps she just wanted a place to sit down. He lent over and took her hand. ‘Hi. I’m George.’ Her smile widened as he shook it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean to disturb. It’s just that I’m supposed to meet some friends here tonight and it looks like I’m the first to arrive. I felt a bit silly standing there all by my own.’ ‘It’s fine, honestly.’ He felt obliged to reassure her that her presence wasn’t intruding. ‘I’ve been feeling a little guilty anyway taking up a whole table when there are people standing up.’ She threw a quick look over her shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that,’ she said turning back to him. ‘They seem quite happy where they are.’ She was chatty, perhaps a tad too chatty for his current state of mind. But it was ok, a little distraction wasn’t unwelcome. And she was harmless really. It might have been the two glasses of wine she’d claimed she’d already had before leaving her dad’s place. She grew up in Carlton, but her parents divorced when she was fifteen. She went to live up north with her mum. She had a job in a bank and a three-years old daughter who was looked after by her mum while she was spending Christmas this year with her dad’s family. That’s why she was there in the pub tonight, just trying to catch up with some old mates really. His glass was almost empty when she eventually took a breather. ‘I’m sorry,’ she looked at him, ‘I’ve been rabbiting on about myself for the last ten minutes. You haven’t said much.’ His face shrugged a smile. ‘There’s isn’t much to say, trust me.’ ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking….’ She bit her lip nervously, her hands toying with the glass of wine in front of her. ‘I’m sure I won’t,’ he encouraged her although he had no idea what she was about to say. ‘How come you’re here on your own tonight? I mean…’ He wasn’t quite sure it was a blush that had brushed over her cheeks or just the a dim shaft of light peeping at her face. ‘it’s Christmas Eve, there must be someone out there you’d rather be with. Family, friends?’ She chuckled. ‘A lady of your heart? I mean, I hope I’m not too nosy, but you seem a really nice guy and nice guys are always taken.’ He lowered his eyes on the table. The lady of his heart? A raw lump jammed in his throat. He washed it down with a mouthful of vodka before looking back at Kylie. ‘My lady?’ he muttered. ‘She’s getting married tonight.’ The noise around them heaped on with a fresh load of rowdy incomers bursting through the opening door. ‘Pardon?’ Kylie lent over raising her hand to her ear. ‘I didn’t get that.’ He snorted, then smiled at her. ‘I was just saying that my girlfriend’s gone to a wedding tonight.’ Her eyebrows heaved disbelievingly. ‘And you let her go on her own?’ ‘Well…’ He pressed his lips together. ‘weddings are not exactly my thing. Not on Christmas Eve anyway.’
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