Woman Walks into a Bar (5 page)

“No?” Brendan said, smiling. “I'm glad.” When he was behind the bar, the raised floor made him look about two inches taller than me. When he'd come out from behind the bar to collect glasses or something I'd noticed that he was almost exactly the same height as me, so that when he talked to me I was looking straight into his eyes. He was the first person I'd met in my life who had properly green eyes. Not hazel or gray but proper green, like the glass in a beer bottle. He had lovely eyes.

“Do you want another?” Brendan asked me. I looked down. Somehow I had finished my wine. That was probably why my tongue felt numb. I glanced at the clock again, it was nearly half past eight. John Smith was now half an hour late. That was a broken-down car, ran out of petrol, or fallen down a lift shaft kind of late.

“I suppose,” I said, glancing over my shoulder and feeling the weight of the change in my pocket. “I'll have one more and then if he's not here by then . . .”

“Have one more on me,” Brendan said, and he put a bottle of melon-flavored Bacardi Breezer down in front of me. My favorite drink.

“Thanks,” I said and smiled at him as he put a straw in the top of the bottle. I was pleased he'd remembered what I like to drink. I mean, I knew it was his job to know what his regulars were having, but I was pleased anyway. It's nice to have someone remember something special about you.

“What I don't get,” Brendan said, propping his chin on one elbow as he looked at me, “is why you bother with all this Internet stuff? I mean, you're a great-looking woman, Sam. You must get asked out all the time! I see guys looking at you on a Friday night.” I felt the skin across my nose and cheeks begin to heat up again.

“I don't,” I said. “Joy says I don't give off the right signals. I think it's because they are all looking at Joy, not me. And anyway, even if I did get asked out . . .” I paused. I had no idea how much Brendan knew about me or how much I wanted him to know. “It's important to me that I don't just end up having a one-night stand.”

“Because of your daughter, you mean?” Brendan asked me.

“Yes,” I said. He knew a bit more than I expected. “Because of Beth, but also because of me, too. I . . . want something that will be good.”

“I know what you mean,” Brendan said. “So you're saying that you like to get to know a man properly before you get serious. You don't like a guy to just ask you out and see how it goes. You like to make sure he's a decent sort before you get really involved.”

“Yes,” I said, sounding a bit surprised. He
did
know exactly what I meant.

“Me too,” he said, and then his cheeks flushed red. “With girls I mean.” I laughed again and Brendan laughed too.

“So, how does the Internet help you do that, then?” he asked me. “Because, you know, I might give it a go, if it's working for you.”

“Well, the person you're meeting . . .” I looked at the clock once more. “Supposed to be meeting, has to tell you a bit about themselves and you do the same. It's not like pulling some bloke you've just met on a Friday night. You sort of know what you're getting.” I smiled and shrugged. “At least you're supposed to, but so far it hasn't quite worked out like that for me.”

“I heard.” Brendan looked at me with those green eyes. “Don't you think that sometimes you should just let your feelings tell you what to do?” he said. Something in his voice made my chest tighten and I reached into my pocket for my inhaler before I realized it was not the early sign of an asthma attack that was making my heart race.

“Um,” I said, looking down at the bar top again. “Not really.”

I looked around at the still near-empty bar again. “Well, it looks like this John Smith's not coming,” I said, making myself look up again. “And I had high hopes for him too.”

“You did?” Brendan asked me.

“Yes,” I said. “He seemed, you know . . . nice. Real, like he wasn't pretending to be someone else.” I laughed. “That's why I don't let my feelings tell me what to do. I'm always wrong!”

“No one is
always
wrong,” Brendan said.

As I pulled my jacket on, I looked around the bar, still hopeful that John Smith might turn up after barely escaping from being kidnapped by aliens.

But he still had not arrived by the time I had done up the last button.

“Well, bye, then,” I said to Brendan.

“Sam,” he said, and he reached out his hand across the bar and caught hold of my fingers. “Look, I'm really sorry . . . I . . .”

“Why?” I asked him, looking at his fingers holding mine. “It's not your fault John Smith is an arsehole after all!” He let go and my hand dropped like a stone to my side.

“I'm sorry that he didn't turn up, I mean,” Brendan said, sounding like he really was sorry, before adding quietly, “And he's a fool, whoever he is.”

“Thanks, Brendan,” I said, suddenly wishing I wasn't about to leave.

“I'm glad he didn't turn up, though,” Brendan said. “I'm glad we got a chance to talk, just us two, to get to know each other a bit better.”

Before I could reply Janet called him from the other end of the bar, waving her empty pint glass.

“Bye,” I said again, but Brendan was already at the other end of the bar.

When I stepped out of the warm, smoky air of the pub into the brisk cold of the night, I went back over the evening. I realized I wasn't feeling annoyed or upset that John Smith hadn't turned up. In fact, I was glad that he hadn't.

By the time I stepped out of the lift and let myself into the flat, I knew for a fact that I fancied Brendan. And there was this other little nagging thought that kept popping up, too. One that said that, after the way he'd acted and the things he'd said, he might fancy me too. But I didn't let myself think that one too often.

After all, I didn't want to jinx myself.

Nine

“You look
great, Mum,” Beth said to me as I stood on the doorstep. I tried to move but I could not make my feet walk toward the lift door. I hadn't been this bad on the other three dates. But I hadn't really cared about the other three dates.

“You do look lovely,” Mum said, managing to smile despite the frown slotted between her brows. “I just hope this one is worth it.”

“I reckon he will be,” Beth said. “I've got a funny feeling about it, plus your stars said that today you'd have a ‘pleasant surprise that would change everything.'”

Still my feet had not moved.

“Go on, then!” Beth said impatiently, giving me a little shove. I tottered onto the smooth surface of the corridor in my heeled boots.

“Bye, then,” Mum said, going back into the flat as the music from
Emmerdale
started up in the front room. “Have a nice time.”

“I'll walk you to the lift,” Beth said. She hooked her arm through mine as we walked the few steps to the lift and then she pressed the down button.

“It'll be fine,” she said, patting my arm. “Don't be nervous.”

“I am fine,” I said, looking at her. “I might just stay at home.”

The lift doors slid open.

“Don't be stupid,” Beth said, giving me a gentle shove in the right direction. I stepped into the lift and turned round to look at her, my finger holding down the “doors open” button.

“I love you, Beth,” I said, suddenly needing to tell her. She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Go
on
!”

“OK,” I said, still holding down the “doors open” button. Beth grinned at me.

“Bye, Mum!” She said pressing the down arrow again.

I took my fingers off the button and the doors slid to a close. I felt the lift begin to move down.

Without Beth I don't think I would have got into the lift.

She is always the one making me take a step further, keeping me going and making me
live
.

I used to try and imagine, just after Adam had left, what my life would have been like if I hadn't had her so young, but I couldn't. Since the first moment I held her, she had been my heartbeat.

It's funny to think that if things hadn't happened the way they did, if I had just kept my head down at school and taken my exams like I was supposed to, then I never would have met Adam. I never would have got pregnant just before I turned sixteen.

But I didn't keep my head down and do my exams.

I fell in love with Luke Goddard instead.

Ten

I was
so
in love with Luke Goddard. There was something about him that made my insides bubble when I looked at him, he was so confident and dishy. Yes, “dishy” was the word we used back then. Luke Goddard was a dish.

But I wasn't the only one in love with him. All the girls at school fancied him, and he knew it.

I knew I'd be the last one he'd look at. It didn't stop me dreaming, though. I day­dreamed about it so often that I was so shocked the day he asked me out I had to pinch myself hard.

“Me?” I'd asked him, looking over my shoulder for someone else.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at me. “You're really pretty. Meet me down the park after school. We'll go for a walk. But don't tell anyone yet, OK? Let's keep it to ourselves for now.”

And I didn't tell anyone I was meeting Luke Goddard, not even Joy, because I was sure that if I went to meet him it was probably just a set-up. I'd turn up at the park and it would be empty or, worse, full of his mates jeering and laughing. And Joy would think that, too, so I didn't tell her because I
wanted
it to go well.

Looking back, I think I must have read too many of those photo-story comics, the ones where the plain Jane always ends up with the dishy guy at the disco. I kidded myself that happy endings like that happened in real life, too.

When I got to the park and saw that he was sitting on the swings waiting for me, I remember feeling scared by how happy I felt.

“All right?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said.

He stood up.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he said.

“OK,” I said. It wasn't how it went in my magazines, but it was still the most exciting thing anybody had ever said to me.

“Come on, then,” he said. He took my hand and led me toward the back of the park where there was a little bit of woodland. When we got there I saw that he'd laid out a blanket on top of the dried leaves. I just looked at it.

“What's that for?” I said.

“Come on,” he said. And he kissed me.

Luke Goddard was a good kisser. I'd never been kissed before and I didn't know what it would be like. But the way he kissed me was lovely. It was a warm evening. I felt the heat of the setting sun on my cheeks. We kissed for a long time before anything else happened.

“I've always liked you,” Luke Goddard said, resting the palm of his hand on my chest. “Can I . . .?” he asked me.

I let him because he was gentle and tender and because I wanted him to. His hands shook as he unbuttoned my shirt, and when I took off my bra the look on his face made me feel beautiful.

He asked me if I'd let him do other things and I did because I was happy. Happy to have Luke Goddard kissing and touching as we lay on the blanket in the warmth of the setting sun. He asked me if I really was his girlfriend. He sounded worried that I might change my mind.

“I am, I am,” I whispered. He said he wanted to “do it” with me and I knew what he meant. He said he'd be really careful and I wouldn't have to worry because no one gets pregnant the first time they do it. He said that he loved me.

I don't think even then I really believed it was true, but I didn't care because I loved him and I loved that moment we were sharing, with the sun on our skin and our arms around each other. I wanted it to happen.

So I said yes.

The sex part was over almost before it started, and I don't remember much about it, except that there was a plastic bottle top sticking into the small of my back and every time Luke moved his head the glare of the sun made me close my eyes. But it didn't matter because the sex wasn't important to me. What was so special and what I don't think I have ever felt since, not even when I was happy with Adam, was feeling truly cherished.

Afterwards he rolled off me and pulled me into his arms so that my head was on his chest. I listened to the beat of his heart. I find I sometimes still dream about him in the last few moments before I open my eyes in the morning—Luke on top of me breathing into my hair. And I remember feeling so happy and cared for. It was that feeling that made everything that happened afterwards so hard to bear.

“Fantastic,” Luke spoke first. We lay like that for a long time until the sun lost its warmth and the sky began to get dark and Luke Goddard helped me pull my clothes back on and walked me home.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” I said, expecting him to kiss me.

“I do really like you, Sam,” he said instead and he went home.

I lay awake all night feeling excited and happy. I really thought that from that moment everything would change because my photo-story had come true. I'd be Luke Goddard's girlfriend and everyone would like me again.

But the next day the fact that I'd slept with Luke Goddard was all round the school.

“Luke Goddard says you fuck for a pound,” Matthew Green said. “I've got fifty pence—will you do me a blow job?”

“Shut up,” I shouted at him. “That's not what . . . shut up!” I saw Luke walking toward us.

“Luke,” I said. “Tell them!”

“Oooh, Luke!” Matt Green and his mates chanted.

“Tell them I'm your girlfriend!” I pleaded. Luke didn't look at me but kept on walking.

“Luke!” I said, feeling my stomach clench. “Tell them I'm your girlfriend!”

Luke turned around and grinned at me.

“Nice body,” he said. “Shame about the face.”

It was as if he had slapped me, and in a way I wished he had. Because for the rest of that day and the next and all the days left until I turned sixteen and could finally walk out of school, anything would have been better than the lies and rumors that Luke Goddard spread about me. Anything would have been better than having to read what I was supposed to have done with him written on the toilet wall.

What made it even more painful was that I was still in love with Luke. Part of me thought that after what had happened between us he
must
feel the same way about me. He just couldn't say it, so it wasn't really his fault.

So I carried a torch for Luke for the longest time.

In fact, I was still in love with him on the day I met Adam.