Sweet Home Summer

by Michelle Vernal

  ‘Afternoon all.’ He nodded at Bridget. ‘Mrs Collins, we don’t see you in here often.’

  He had a dimply red nose and cheeks that were road mapped with the spider veins of a serious drinker.

  ‘Mick.’ Bridget nodded back. The last time she’d been in the pub was for a birthday drink for Joe’s fiftieth birthday bash, and that was more than a few years ago now. ‘This is my granddaughter, Isla; she’s not long back from the UK.’

  ‘Alright, guv’nor?’ He addressed Isla in a shocking faux Cockney accent for which he received a weak smile.

  ‘Yes, good thanks.’

  ‘And I’m Carl, originally from the UK but a Kiwi boy through and through these days. Now, lovely ladies, it’s my treat, so what’ll it be?’

  To Isla’s amazement, there was a bottle of perfectly acceptable Marlborough Sauvignon in the fridge. Things were looking up at the Pit! She ordered a glass of the wine and received a generous country pour and not the precisely expensive measure she’d been used to in the London bars. Bridget settled for a whiskey and coke. ‘Single, mind,’ she tutted at Mick. Carl, with a glance over at the men with their jugs, ordered a handle of Speights.

  ‘Do you like that stuff or did you just order it because you thought you should?’ Isla asked as they made their way across the room to a table near the pool table.

  ‘The latter if I’m honest, I’m not much of an ale man. I much prefer a cheeky cocktail but …’ he shrugged. ‘You know, when in Rome and all that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t compare Bibury to Rome,’ Isla said, setting her drink down on the table as Carl fussed around, pulling a chair out for Bridget and settling her in it. She smiled to herself. Gran would slap her away were she to fuss her like that, but she was lapping up the attention from Carl.

  ‘Now then, Bridget, what are we going to do about this hall of yours?’ he said, finally sitting down himself. ‘How about a Pub Quiz Night? They always go down well. An eighties music theme, perhaps? It’s my strong point, eighties music, lived and breathed it.’ He looked at the two black t-shirt boys who were playing pool with their jeans halfway down their backsides. ‘Perhaps not, ACDC trivia might be more the ticket in Bibury, yes?’

  ‘A pub quiz has been done,’ Bridget said. ‘The PTA’s got that one covered.’

  ‘Well, what about … oh I don’t know, a karaoke night?’ Isla suggested.

  ‘The Bibury Line Dancers Association have already nabbed that to fundraise for their trip to the championships down in Gore.’

  Dear God, she was serious, Isla realized, but there was worse to come.

  ‘Margaret suggested we hold a barn dance, but the Bibury Scottish Dancers pipped us to the post with their successful Haggis and Hoedown evening. They were fundraising for new kilts.’

  Carl was looking at her, his eyes wide. ‘Never a dull minute in Bibury then.’ He fished around in his pocket and produced a few coins. ‘We need a spot of music, come on Bridget, what do you fancy?’

  ‘I’ve only just sat down.’ She took his hand though, letting him help her to her feet and followed him over to the jukebox. A few seconds later the sounds of the Everly Brothers’ Unchained Melody came on.

  ‘I thought about Elvis, but it’s a bit too early for Jailhouse Rock,’ Bridget said sitting back down, leaving Carl over by the box.

  ‘Are you alright Gran? You seemed a bit lost in thought at the cemetery this afternoon.’ Isla rested her hand atop her gran’s soft crinkly one.

  Bridget didn’t answer straight away and Isla wondered if she’d even heard her, but then she sighed. ‘Ah, don’t worry about me. As you get older you tend to dwell on the past a bit more, and I was just thinking about how things used to be and how things could have been.’

  It was a cryptic reply, Isla thought, sitting back in her chair.

  ‘Are you hungry girls?’ Carl interrupted, sitting back down. ‘Because I just about helped myself to a chip from that basket over there.’ He waved over to the two pool playing lads. A bowl of chips had been placed down on a nearby table, and they were snaffling them in between shots. ‘Didn’t think they’d appreciate it though.’

  ‘Mm yeah, I could have a few chips.’

  ‘I’ve got the crockpot on. There’s a nice bowl of stew waiting for me at home, there’s enough for you too Isla if you want it? Otherwise, I’ll pop it in the freezer.’

  ‘Thanks, Gran, but I’ve got room for both chippies and your yummy stew.’

  ‘What does it say on that blackboard?’ Carl asked peering at the bar. ‘Steak pie, steak’n’cheese pie, mince’n’vegetable pie and, ah, chips in a basket. Don’t mind if I do.’ As he got up, he said, ‘I might text Annie and see if she and Kris can be persuaded to join us for a tipple. It would be rude not to being a Friday night and all. It’s nearly 5.30, that’s officially the weekend!’

  ‘He’s got ants in his pants that one,’ Bridget muttered.

  They watched as he placed his order and Mick disappeared out the back to tackle the deep fryer.

  ‘He’s good fun, isn’t he?’ Isla ventured.

  Bridget nodded. ‘It’s a crying shame, I have to say, that he bats for the other team because you could do a lot worse.’

  ‘Gran, I’m not looking to meet anyone. After Tim, I just want to be on my own for a bit,’ Isla stated emphatically as the door swung open and Ben walked in.

  Bridget raised an eyebrow at the expression on her granddaughter’s face as she saw the pretty blonde girl whose hand he was holding come in behind him.

  Isla waved over but only because Ben had seen her as soon as he stepped inside the pub. Bridget didn’t miss the scowl that flashed across his face as Carl re-joined them and leaned in close to Isla to say something.

  Isla hoped he wouldn’t come over and say hi, she didn’t want to meet this Barbie doll of his no matter how nice she was. Thankfully, she saw out the corner of her eye that he’d gotten talking to one of the singlet men. Carl watched her watching Ben with amusement.

  ‘Fancy him, do you?’

  ‘No! I mean who? What’re you on about?’

  ‘Mechanic Man up at the bar, I recognize him from the garage. Looks spoken for, I’m sorry to say sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh him.’ Isla knew her attempts at feigning innocence weren’t fooling anyone. ‘I’ve known him for years – most of my life in fact. I was just curious as to who he’s wound up dating that’s all.’

  ‘They were an item, these two, before Isla moved away. They made a good couple too, but she broke it off, more fool her.’ Bridget pointed at her granddaughter as she put her ten cents’ worth in.

  ‘Gran, do you mind! It was over twelve years ago, Carl. Obviously, we’ve both moved on.’

  ‘You haven’t, I can tell by your face you still have a soft spot for him,’ Bridget said.

  ‘Unfinished business.’ Carl nodded knowledgeably.

  ‘You two are incorrigible. I can’t win this conversation, can I? There’s absolutely no point in my telling you that I’m not interested in Ben Robson and that I wish him a wonderful future with his lady friend.’

  ‘No,’ Bridget and Carl chimed as Mick plonked a bowl of chips down in front of them and grunted. ‘Sauce?’

  Annie and Kris arrived at the pub as Isla was licking the last of the salt from her fingers. The fries had been just the ticket to soak up the oversized glass of wine she’d partaken of. Not that she was complaining and she fully intended to have another. She didn’t want to miss out on the happy hour discount. She noticed Gran yawn after Carl had done the introductions. He was filling Annie and Kris in on what they’d done that afternoon. ‘Are you ready for the off Gran?’ she asked.

  Bridget had finished her drink and didn’t want another. ‘I wouldn’t mind, Isla. I’d like to get home in time to watch the news.’

  Isla knew her gran liked to keep abreast of what was happening in the world, though, sometimes when she caught up with current events she wondered why she’d bothered. It seemed there was hardly ever any ch
eerful news about the goings on in the world.

  ‘I’ll drop you home then. Are you guys going to stay on for a bit?’ She directed to the others.

  ‘The night’s young,’ Carl said raising his glass. ‘And, the second pint tastes better.’

  Annie and Kris were sharing a jug of beer and didn’t look like they were in any rush. ‘Well, I might drop Gran home and come back down then.’

  ‘That’s a good plan.’ Carl got up and planted a kiss on Bridget’s cheek. ‘I’m going to rack my brains for ideas for your hall, darling.’

  Bridget looked pleased as she nodded at Annie and Kris. ‘Enjoy yourselves but don’t overdo it. I know what you young ones are like.’

  She linked her arm through Isla’s and nodded at Mick on the way out.

  ‘It’s been a good day Gran,’ Isla said, feeling happy. She’d bought a car and made some lovely new friends.

  Bridget rested her hand on her granddaughter’s forearm, her whiskey and coke making her feel misty-eyed. ‘It has.’ Annie and Kris were nice people, she could tell. She was a good judge of character. As for Carl, he was an absolute delight. Isla was settling in at home again, and it warmed her heart to see it.

  Chapter 15

  The pub had begun to fill up in the short time Isla had been away and there was a fairly evenly mixed batch of both sexes compared to the earlier odds. It was busy but then it was Friday night, so she shouldn’t be surprised. She found a space to squeeze into, that was a safe distance away from where Ben was still standing with his girlfriend. It made no difference, though, he’d seen her come back in. Out the corner of her eye, she saw him lean down and say something to his lady friend before they both headed over in her direction. Bugger, she thought, while smiling at Mick and ordering.

  ‘Hey Isla,’ he said clutching his handle of beer. ‘This is Saralee Talbot.’

  ‘Hi Ben. Saralee, it’s nice to meet you.’ Not, she thought affecting what she hoped was a genuine looking smile.

  Saralee smiled back at her, and her cheek dimpled. She had a pretty, open face with an upturned nose. Yes, as much as it pained her, she knew Ben was probably right, and she was going to like her. Why couldn’t she have been a hard-faced, mouth of the South type? That would have been much easier to stomach.

  ‘Hi Isla, Ben was just telling me he goes way back with your brother.’

  Isla wondered if that was all he had told her. ‘Yes, they got up to all sorts when they were younger.’

  ‘And, I hear you’ve just got back from the UK is that right?’

  ‘Uh-huh. I’ve spent the last ten years living in London.’

  ‘I spent a year in London in my early twenties, it was great fun. Are you settling back in okay? It must be a culture shock – I mean London to Bibury.’

  Isla noticed Ben looking at her intently and she felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. ‘I am, actually. It was time to come home.’

  ‘Ben told me he helped you find a car today.’

  Isla felt her face heat up; she should have mentioned it earlier in the conversation because it wasn’t as though there was anything to hide. ‘Yes, he was a great help keeping the smarmy sales guy in check, although I’m not sure he’s sold on my choice. I bought a red Mini Cooper, and I’ve called her Delilah. It’s love.’

  Saralee giggled. ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Are you staying on for the band?’ Ben asked.

  ‘I didn’t know there was one.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s why there’s a good turn-out down here tonight. They’ve played here before. They do covers mostly, but they’re pretty good. We thought we’d stick around for a bit.’

  Saralee nodded in agreement as Mick interrupted them by placing Isla’s drink down in front of her.

  ‘I’d like to, but I’ll see what those guys are up to.’ She pointed over to where Annie and Kris were laughing. Carl was in his element holding court and looking for all the world like he was doing semaphore as he flapped his hands around embellishing his tale.

  ‘Well, if Annie, Kris and your friend over there aren’t keen then you’re welcome to join us,’ Ben said. Isla got the impression from the way Saralee’s smile faltered ever so slightly that she wasn’t quite so enthralled with the possibility of a third wheel rolling in on her date.

  ‘Thanks. You guys enjoy your night. It was nice to meet you Saralee.’ She raised her wine glass at them both before making her way back over to the others.

  ‘Hi!’ Annie beamed as Isla sat back down. ‘Carl’s been telling us about your day. He’s quite smitten with your gran you know. He wants to be her honorary grandson.’

  ‘It’s true. I do.’

  ‘Well, I think the feeling’s mutual.’

  ‘He was saying that she’s wanting to come up with a fundraising idea to restore the old hall where we went dancing last night.’

  ‘Yes. There’s a lot of memories for her there.’ Isla traced her fingertip around the rim of her glass. ‘Did he tell you what happened to her friend Clara when they were teenagers?’

  ‘No.’

  Isla looked at Carl quizzically, and he shrugged. ‘It wasn’t my story to tell.’ He took a sip of his beer, the froth on top leaving behind a foam moustache.

  Isla pointed to his lip before relaying the sad tale.

  Kris and Annie made sympathetic noises. ‘How awful,’ Annie said. ‘I think it’s lovely your gran wants to remember her friend in a place where she was happy. We’ll have to put our heads together and see what ideas we can come up with.’ She shivered. ‘You know, it was the names of all the young servicemen listed on that plaque inside the hall that got to me, and now there’s Clara’ story linked to it too. That’s a lot of sadness for a small town.’

  ‘The ancient Greeks believed that the key to immortality for the dead lay in the living remembering the deceased,’ Kris said.

  You could tell he was a history teacher, Isla thought, noticing the way his eyes lit up when he mentioned the ancient Greeks. ‘What’s your family like Kris?’ she asked curiously.

  His smile was wide. ‘We’re a typical Greek family. My pateras does what he is told, and I have a bossy mama and three equally bossy sisters.’

  ‘Did you meet them while you were over there, Annie?’

  ‘No, we’ll head back over to Greece when Kris’ contract finishes here, and I’ll meet them then.’ She studied the contents of her glass. ‘I don’t know what they’ll think of me.’

  Kris draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. ‘They’ll love you like I do, of course.’

  Annie didn’t look convinced, and Isla filed the exchange away to ask her about later.

  ‘And you Carl? Your parents emigrated I take it.’

  Carl’s face lost its jocular veneer. ‘Yes, when I was twelve, and I tell you Isla, it was not easy being a gay boy in New Zealand back in the late eighties. It was illegal until the mid-eighties for one thing which just seems mad in the world we live in today. Anyway, that’s where Annie’s big sis came in. She rescued me, made me popular. It was like something from a Molly Ringwald film except neither of us had braces.’ Isla was still a twinkle in her father’s eye for the best part of the eighties, but she got the gist of what he was saying. ‘Mum and Dad are in their late sixties now. They’ve mellowed, but it took them a long time to accept my lifestyle and David.’ He ran his fingers through his hair and it swished back into place, as Isla watched on enviously. ‘No siblings you see, so I think that made my sexuality all the harder for them to accept.’

  Isla wanted to get up and hug him, but Annie reached over and patted his arm. ‘Carl, stop being a stubborn fool and text David, you know you want to.’

  ‘But he hasn’t texted me.’ His bottom lip protruded.

  ‘That’s because he’s as stubborn as you are.’

  ‘Should I?’ He looked over at Annie hopefully.

  ‘Yes!’ All three of them chimed as Carl got his phone and tapped a message out. He put it down on the table when he’d finish
ed, and they all sat staring at it, mentally willing a message to bounce back. It did within seconds, and Carl snatched up the phone, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  ‘Well?’ Annie asked.

  ‘He’s having a microwave ready meal in front of the telly and says he’s sorry he behaved like a Neanderthal. I’m going to let him sweat it out a few more days though; I’m not telling him I’m coming home on Sunday.’

  ‘That’s the Carl we know and love. Hey, look, a band’s setting up.’ Annie pointed over to the stage area before gazing up at Kris and squeezing his arm. ‘I’m in the mood for a bit of a boogie. I’d forgotten how much I love to dance until last night.’

  ‘It’s a good job there’s four of us then,’ Carl sniffed. ‘Otherwise, I’d be left sitting here on my own like a right Neville No Mates. Isla, you’ll do me the honour won’t you?’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘You better hope they don’t do any Michael Jackson then because he’ll break out his moonwalk and robot moves,’ Annie muttered, and Carl poked his tongue out at her.

  Isla grinned and waved over at Annie and Kris who were stamping their feet and clapping their hands on the crowded dance floor to Van Morrison’s Gloria. Carl had danced with her until he’d had enough and gone off to find someone to play pool with. She’d just been accosted on the edge of the dance floor by a singlet man with hairy shoulders who was out for a good night. She’d made her escape by claiming she was dying of thirst. Her excuse didn’t faze him in the slightest, and he sidled on up to a huddle of girls instead. With an abundance of tattoos and piercings on show, they looked more than able to handle themselves, and Isla watched on with amusement from a safe distance.

  The evening was flying by, and she glanced up at the clock behind the bar. It was next to the Southern Man Poster. She smiled at the familiar picture of the hardy Southerner in his Drizabone oilskin coat and hat as she pushed her way through the crowd. It was already half past nine. She put the back of her hand to her cheek – it was hot. She knew it wasn’t down to all the dancing, though she had a definite glow on. She’d have to watch her drinking, or she’d be feeling a tad sorry for herself again tomorrow morning. It was time to order a glass of water. But first the call of nature needed to be answered.