Where Loyalty Lies (9 page)

“Well, I’ll have your wages ready by the end of the evening,” he said, sitting back down and starting his tapping again. That was his way of ending the conversation. No asking where I was going or why I was leaving, typical Gus.

“Well I’d better start work, then,” I said. I hung my jacket on the coat stand and went back out to the bar.

It had got busier since I’d arrived and for half an hour I was pulling pints. Nothing other than beer was ever ordered here. The rush was soon over and out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris approaching. I cursed under my breath and desperately looked around for a distraction but it was too late.

“You were late again today.”

As he spoke, I forced myself to turn and look at him straight on, a position I usually avoided to spare myself his stinking breath. He stopped a foot away from me and lit a cigarette, then proceeded to blow smoke rings at me while staring at my boobs. I briefly wondered whether I was supposed to be turned on or intimidated, but then I remembered it was my last night and decided to enjoy winding him up a little.

“So what?” I said with a casual shrug of my shoulders.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say, seeing as I’m the manager?”

He always loved to throw that in my face. He took another long drag of his cigarette and this time blew the smoke directly in my face, making my eyes sting. His eyes still hadn’t left my chest.

“You’re only the manager because I turned the job down first,” I said. I’d always wanted to tell him that but knew that, once I did, he’d be even more unpleasant. It didn’t matter now, though. I laughed at the surprised look on his face.

“Oh, didn’t you know that?” I asked. “Well, maybe now you’ll stop acting like a jumped-up little prick.” I went to push past him but he grabbed hold of my arm. He gave a quick scan of the room to make sure nobody had heard what I’d said and then he pushed his face into mine.

“Just watch your mouth, you stupid bitch. One more scene like that and I’ll have you fired,” he hissed.

I smiled, “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know that either; tonight’s my last night so I’ll talk to you how I damn well like.” I wrenched my arm out of his grip and remembered how sensitive he was about his height. “And I’d tell you to stop staring at my boobs because it’s rude, but seeing as they’re eye-level for you, I’ll let you off.”

With that I marched towards the other end of the bar. I’d been dying to say that for so long.

I knew that, as with a lot of men, Chris was somehow drawn to me and, on the few occasions when he’d asked me out and got a flat out refusal, he’d got bitter and found futile jobs for me to do. Most of the time, I just took it because it was easier than making more trouble. Chris and I went round in a never-ending circle of him asking me out, me saying no, him spending weeks trying to humiliate me and then trying to impress me. It was easier to keep my head down, bite my tongue and get on with what I was there to do. Therefore my little outburst tonight hadn’t been a great idea.

Chris spent the entire evening in absolute silence, doing his job but refusing to get drawn into any conversation with the customers. The dark looks he shot me were not his usual irritated glares but something far more sinister that brought back memories of how my ex’s had looked at me when they had lost the plot.

As it got closer to midnight and the pub started to empty, I began the cleaning. I didn’t want to be here one minute longer than I needed to be. When the last customer left, I went straight into Gus’ office as I knew Chris wouldn’t start anything in front of him. My stomach dropped when I saw that Gus wasn’t at his desk. I walked behind it to see if he was in the kitchenette out the back, but an envelope on his desk with my name on it caught my eye.

I grabbed it and ripped it open to find a week’s wages, plus a bit extra and a short note wishing me good luck and hoping that, wherever I was going to, was better than here.

“No,” I whispered. I should have known that Gus would skip out the back door; he wasn’t the type who coped well with slushy goodbyes. I’d warmed to him straight away because he was one of the few men who didn’t seem bothered by me. I think he’d come to see me as the daughter he’d never had because I used to fuss over him and chide him for his smoking and drinking.

“Gus already gone?” Chris’ voice behind me made me jump. I nodded, blinking my eyes to get rid of the tears that had welled up.

I chucked my pub key onto Gus’ desk and grabbed my coat off the rack. “Well, there’s my key. Say goodbye to Gus for me. See you.” I dashed out the door. Chris called for me to wait but I pretended not to hear. I was already around the bar and halfway across the room before Chris came out of Gus’ office, pulling on his own coat.

“I said wait,” he snapped.

“Sorry Chris, I’ve got to get home,” I said as I pulled open the front door and stepped out onto the pavement. I started walking as fast as I could without looking like I was fleeing. Chris would have to lock up the front doors which bought me a few extra seconds.  

My heart hammered in my chest as I heard the jangle of keys in the lock, and then the muffled noise as he put them in his pocket. His shoes made loud taps as he started walking and I could tell straight away that he was heading for me, rather than his own home.

“I SAID WAIT!” he yelled.

I stopped and turned, I wasn’t sure why. Instinct that told me that it was better to face a possible attack than have it creep up behind you. Of course I could run but it wouldn’t do much good, Chris knew where I lived because he’d found the contact information I’d written for Gus when I started working for him.

“What is it Chris?” I asked, trying to strike the right tone between impatience and calmness.

“God, you really do think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” Chris snapped. “You think you’re so much better than me, that I don’t even deserve a goodbye?”

This was definitely a biting my tongue moment. If I just let him get his handful of insults out, he’d feel satisfied enough to walk away. My being a smart mouth would only add fuel to the fire.

“I’m sorry, I’ve had a crazy couple of days, I just want to get home and go to sleep,” I said, hating that I was apologising to such a pig.

“So you’ve had a crazy couple of days and now you’re leaving. Let me guess, some brainless idiot has actually decided to tolerate you as his girlfriend and now you’re running off into the sunset together?” Chris said, taking a step towards me.

“No, it’s just family stuff,” I lied.

“Yeah, right. Well, I for one am over the moon that you’re leaving. You’re the most stuck up little tart I’ve ever met. Ever since you started, you’ve thought you’re so much better than me; well you’re not, you’re just a frigid little bitch and I have girls queuing round the block to be with me.” Chris was so wound up that spittle was flying from his mouth.

“Well, don’t let me keep you, then,” I said. Sensing the situation wasn’t going to deflate, I turned to leave but was stopped in my tracks when Chris back-handed me across the face. It had been so unexpected that I hadn’t seen it coming. Before I knew it, I’d shoved Chris away from me, not thinking about my extra strength until it was too late.

Chris sailed through the air, across the entire road and slammed back-first into a wall. For a few agonising seconds, I stood frozen to the spot in fear, staring at his body crumpled and unmoving on the floor. Just as I was about to run over and check for a pulse, he groaned and started to sit up. Relief crashed into me so hard that a sob actually escaped my mouth. I thought I’d killed him.

As he gradually sat up, I stayed glued to my spot across the road. I knew he’d do worse than back-hand me if I tried to help him up, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave without staying long enough to make sure he was okay.

I watched as Chris stood up, cradling his left arm and breathing heavily. I could tell the second his memory came back, because his eyes snapped up to mine.

“YOU BITCH!” he screamed, loud enough to make me jump. “YOU FUCKING BITCH. YOU BROKE MY FUCKING ARM.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.”

Chris’s eyes widened and he looked back and forth between where I was standing and where he’d landed. When he looked at me, he no longer looked pissed off but terrified.

“What did you... How did you...” he murmured. Then he looked me straight in the face. “You freak. You fucking freak. You’ll pay for this.” He turned, still clutching his arm and stumbled off towards his home.

I started heading for my own home. My heart was beating so fast that I felt like I’d run a marathon. What had just happened felt like a horrible nightmare. The image of his lifeless body kept running through my brain until I was sobbing. I was relieved that I hadn’t killed him and mortified that it could have happened so easily. As it was, I’d broken his arm. He would have to go to hospital to get that fixed. Would he tell them how it had happened? I had no idea. I knew that admitting a girl had beaten him up might be enough to keep him quiet, but the idea of the police coming and arresting me for GBH might just be enough to make him talk.

When I got home, I knew what I had to do. My hands were shaking so badly that I could hardly dial Holt’s number. It didn’t occur to me how late I was calling until the phone had rung a few  times. I was just considering hanging up when Holt answered.

“Faine?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, not managing to keep the tremble out my voice.

“What’s wrong?”

Holt’s voice was so alert that I couldn’t imagine he’d been asleep when I called. I hesitated, not knowing how much to tell him.

“It’s okay,” I said, “I just wanted to ask if we could go sooner.”

“What? Well, of course we can, but why? Is everything alright?”

“Can we go tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yes Faine, we can go whenever you like, but just tell me why.”

I couldn’t help it, I burst into tears. “I thought he was dead,” I managed to say between sobs. “He hit me and, before I realised what I was doing, I pushed him and... and... I thought he was dead.” For the second time in a week, I collapsed into a heap in my hallway.

“What?” Holt said. “Who hit you?”

I frowned at the question. I’d just told Holt that I’d almost killed someone and he was more concerned that I’d been bitch-slapped?

“It was nothing,” I said, “just a row with someone from work, but I broke his arm, probably cracked some ribs and stuff too.”

“But he hit you first?” Holt asked.

“Yes, but that doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“Well, if you ask me, I think it does,” Holt said coolly. “I think that any arsehole of a man who lays even a finger on a woman deserves much more than a broken arm and a few cracked ribs.”

Before I could think of a response, there was a knock at my door. I jumped about three feet in the air and, picturing an entire unit of policemen out in the hallway, I whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Holt’s voice came over the phone, “it’s just me, let me in.”

I opened the door and stood dumbly while Holt came in and locked the door behind him.

“How did you...?” I murmured. “But I just called you...”

“I was in a bar round the corner from here,” Holt explained. “Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that when a female calls you in tears, you should get round there ASAP.”

Holt took the phone from where I was still holding it up to my ear and steered me into the living room. He sat me in the armchair and switched on the lamp in the corner before perching on the coffee table in front of me. With slow, fluid movements he held my chin and angled my face so that he could see what was probably just a bit of bruising and swelling.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered and I saw his pupils expanding. Holt had told me that their eyes turned black in moments of heightened emotion, so I could tell he was genuinely upset. Despite the calm look on Holt’s face, the black eyes scared me so I lowered my gaze and caught sight of a pendant he was wearing round his neck. His leaning forward had caused it to slip out from under his shirt and I studied it with interest. It was a tree in a circle, held round his neck by a leather cord. Holt caught me looking and pulled it further out for me to see.

“It’s made out of a two pence piece,” he said. “I watched the man make it. He etched the outline of the tree onto the coin and then used the tiniest tools to carve out all the areas, leaving the image of the tree suspended inside the rim of the coin.”

I studied it closer and realised that I could see the original details of the coin.

“It’s amazing,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

I looked up at Holt to see that his eyes had returned to normal and he looked incredibly sad. I was guessing that the necklace had some huge memories attached to it. Holt tucked it back inside his shirt and pulled himself out of his own thoughts.

“What happened?” he asked, indicating towards my swollen cheekbone.

I sighed and flopped back into the chair. “It was my fault really. I couldn’t help but have a few digs at my manager, Chris, because I knew I wouldn’t ever have to see him again. He didn’t take it well and after we locked up, he started mouthing off. I think he got annoyed because he couldn’t get a reaction from me with all his insults, so he back-handed me.” I took a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of Holt. “I don’t know if it was because I was shocked but I shoved him, without reining in any of my strength, and he flew about fifteen feet and hit a brick wall.”