A Question of Us

by Mary Jayne Baker

‘God, I love you,’ she said, giving his arm a grateful hug. ‘So how about Sally then? She’s had her eye on you for ages.’

  He shrugged. ‘Might as well ask her, now I’ve put in the groundwork. Unless you want to change your mind? Last chance.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Pictures? There’s a new Marvel film out. I’ll buy you a hot dog and we can feel each other up in the dark.’

  ‘Tempting. But still no.’

  ‘Top halves only and I’ll throw in a popcorn? Final offer, take it or leave it.’

  ‘Sorry, Si. Washing my hair.’

  ‘Not even if—’ The teasing grin disappeared as his gaze fixed on something over her shoulder. ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Behind you.’

  She turned round. A group of girls in matching pink team jackets were heading their way.

  ‘Oh shit,’ she echoed.

  ‘Did you know she was coming?’

  ‘No. Not heard from her in ages.’ She tapped his elbow. ‘You’d better go inside and warn him. I’ll try to stall her.’

  2

  Clarrie made an effort to fix her face into a smile as the group of laughing women approached.

  ‘Um. Hi Gem,’ she said to the pretty, butter-blonde girl at the front.

  Gemma Wagstaff. The lost team member.

  ‘Oh. Oh! Midwinter. Hiya. Didn’t see you hiding there in the dark.’ Gemma peered around the cobbled courtyard. ‘Where’s Si? I’m guessing things haven’t changed so much round here that you’ve actually started buying your own cigs.’

  ‘He went in when he saw you.’

  Gemma’s smile vanished. ‘Right. Did he?’

  ‘Not like that,’ Clarrie said quickly. ‘He just thought he’d better let the lads know you were here.’

  ‘I see. And you’re stalling me while he does it, are you?’ Gemma turned to her bemused-looking friends. ‘Go on in, girls, find us a table. I’ll be there in a sec.’

  ‘Gem, what the hell are you doing here?’ Clarrie whispered when the rest of the women had gone into the pub.

  ‘The quiz, obviously. Recruited myself a new dream team from work.’

  ‘I thought you’d quit the quizzes. It’ll upset Sonny when he sees you.’

  She sighed. ‘Really, still?’

  ‘Why didn’t you text me you were coming?’

  ‘Because I knew you’d try to talk me out of it. I just wanted to see him, Clar. I thought maybe, after all this time…’ She looked up, her eyes damp. ‘I just wanted to see him,’ she said again, an undertone of helplessness in her voice. ‘That’s not so wrong, is it?’

  ‘Still hoping he’ll give you another chance?’

  ‘Something like that. Not that I deserve it, I know.’

  Clarrie sighed. ‘Well, come here,’ she said, folding her friend into a hug. ‘Missed you.’

  Gemma smiled as she gave her a squeeze. ‘Missed you too, Midwinter.’

  ‘I mean, I missed you doing the quizzes. Jeff’s bloody useless.’

  ‘Yeah. I thought that’s what you meant.’

  ‘Come on,’ Clarrie said when she’d let her go. ‘Come say hi to the boys, then it’s over with.’

  ‘How do you think he’ll take it?’ Gemma whispered as Clarrie linked her arm to guide her into the pub. ‘Think he’ll speak to me?’

  ‘Well… I wouldn’t get your hopes up.’

  Inside, Tim was still messing with his microphone and Gemma’s friends had settled themselves at a table close to the bar. Clarrie could see her own team, doing their best to pretend they were making idle small talk, but it was obvious Si had prepared them for Gemma’s imminent arrival. Sonny’s eyes kept flickering to the door, and he tensed visibly when he caught sight of his ex-girlfriend.

  ‘So… look what I found outside,’ Clarrie said when she reached their table, fixing on her brightest all-friends-here smile.

  ‘Er, just thought I’d come and say hi before we got going,’ Gemma said. ‘Hi guys.’ Her face twitched. ‘Hi Sunil.’

  Sonny flinched. She was the only one who ever called him by his given name, apart from teachers. Even his mum called him Sonny.

  ‘Hi,’ he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

  Si glanced up at her and smiled. ‘Hiya, Gem. Good to see you.’

  Gemma smiled too, relaxing a little. ‘All right, tall, dark and handsome?’ She ruffled Simon’s wavy brown hair, and he wrinkled his nose. ‘Still asking Clarrie out?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You still turning him down?’ Gemma asked Clarrie.

  ‘Yep.’

  Gemma shook her head. ‘You must be off your nut, love.’

  ‘You’d do me, wouldn’t you, Gem?’ Si asked, smirking up at her.

  ‘In a New York half-heartbeat.’

  ‘What about me?’ Dave asked, standing to hug her across the table.

  Gemma shrugged. ‘Why not? We can drink cheap vodka and play Spin the Bottle, it’ll be just like the old days.’

  ‘Let’s do it. Maybe you’ll get Clarrie again.’ Dave grinned. ‘Highlight of my teenage years, that. On my deathbed I’ll be kicking myself for not bringing a camera.’

  ‘Not sure I should be listening to this,’ Jeff said. ‘I’ve got enough youthful indiscretions of my own without having to hear about yours, Davy Boy.’ He flashed a smile at Gemma. ‘Nice to see you again, pet.’

  ‘You too, Jeff. Thanks for keeping my seat warm.’

  She turned to face Sonny again. ‘Well?’ she asked softly. ‘Do I get a hug from you then, beardy?’

  ‘I don’t think so, do you?’

  ‘It’s been nearly a year, Sunil.’

  Sonny scowled into his drink. ‘Try me after ten. It’s not the time, Gem, all right?’

  ‘No. I’m starting to pick up on that.’ Gemma glanced over at her new team. ‘I better get back to the girls.’ She nodded at the new addition to Sonny’s face, a black goatee. ‘I’d lose that thing if I were you, by the way. Makes you look like a magician.’

  Gemma went back to her new friends, giving her old ones a sad little wave over her shoulder.

  Dave slung an arm around Sonny’s shoulders. ‘You okay, mate?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Sonny patted his hand. ‘Thanks, Davy.’

  Clarrie couldn’t help smiling. It was sort of sweet, the way Sonny and Dave ticked between best friends and bitter enemies at ten-minute intervals.

  She felt her Si sense tingling, and turned to find him close to her ear.

  ‘Well, that was awkward,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ she muttered back.

  ‘How’d it go on your fag break then, Si?’ Dave asked, strategically changing the subject. ‘She say yes this time?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Dave shook his head at Clarrie. ‘You are such a virgin.’

  ‘Can everyone please stop calling me a virgin?’ She looked at Sonny. ‘Back me up, you.’

  ‘Yeah, you lot know I keep Clarrie’s virginity in the trophy cabinet with my other conquests,’ Sonny said. ‘You’re welcome to come round and inspect it.’

  ‘I’ve got yours under the bed,’ Clarrie said, smiling. ‘Props up the wobbly leg pretty well.’

  She couldn’t remember the night she’d spent with Sonny too well now, except that, like any sixteen-year-old’s first time, it had been brief, damp and embarrassing, leaving a lingering impression of too many limbs and a disappointing haze of anti-climax.

  They hadn’t even been going out. She remembered him, a gangly mix of swagger and blushes, getting her on her own in the sixth form common room during a free period.

  ‘Fancy coming round mine tonight?’ he’d asked.

  ‘What, for the English homework?’

  ‘Um, no, thought we could have sex. I’d rather lose it with you, Clar.’ He’d looked thoughtful. ‘And we might have time to work on the English after. I mean, I don’t know how long it’s supposed to take or anything.’

  ‘Oh.’ She’d shrug
ged. ‘Yeah, if you want.’

  Hearts and bloody flowers, eh?

  ‘All right, blondie, we all know you’re a bona fide sex goddess really,’ Dave said. ‘Sonny’s never walked the same.’

  ‘Don’t call me blondie, Dave.’

  ‘Sorry, Clarissa.’

  She winced. ‘Or that.’

  ‘Sorry, Melons McGee.’

  ‘That’s better.’

  Si, who’d been at the bar, reappeared with a tray of fresh drinks for them.

  ‘Cheers, Simon,’ Clarrie said, helping herself to a lager. ‘Do I take it your projectile flirting worked then?’

  ‘Yep. Got served first and I’m cooking a meal for her at mine next Monday.’

  Sonny glared at him as he reclaimed his seat. ‘We need to get you bloody neutered. Then you might be able to concentrate on the important things in life, like winning the League.’

  Simon turned his eyes upwards and sighed. ‘Life’s hard when you’re irresistible.’

  ‘Oh, please do get over yourself,’ Clarrie groaned.

  It didn’t annoy her that Si had grown up to be gorgeous. It sometimes woke her up at night, but it didn’t annoy her. The fact he knew he was gorgeous and exploited it shamefully: now that was annoying. Bloody Simon Dewhirst, causing palpitations in bosoms and knickers wherever he went. Honestly, I mean, she loved him, but he could be insufferable sometimes.

  ‘You might get girls too, if you shaved that horrific thing off,’ Dave said to Sonny, indicating his friend’s goatee.

  ‘No way,’ Sonny said, stroking his chin like a hairy Bond villain. ‘My mum says it makes me look well smart.’

  Dave snorted. ‘You let your mum make decisions on your facial hair? Priceless.’ He pulled the answer sheet towards him. ‘Mirror fucking Spock,’ he muttered.

  ‘So are we starting or what?’ Jeff asked. ‘Tim’s been fannying with that microphone for a quarter of an hour.’

  ‘Yeah, I think it’s broke,’ Si said. ‘He keeps tapping it.’

  ‘Don’t know why he needs one, other quizmasters manage well enough,’ Jeff muttered. ‘Typical Tim, can’t get enough of the sound of his own voice. He was the same at school.’

  Clarrie spotted Gemma looking over at them from her table. Gem flashed her a smile when she caught her eye and Clarrie smiled back, making a mental note to text her tomorrow and arrange to go out for a drink or something. It’d been too long.

  ‘Okay, game faces on, you lot,’ Dave said, nodding towards Maserati Tim, who finally seemed to have got his mike working. ‘Looks like it’s quiz o’ clock.’

  3

  ‘Right. Welcome one and all to the Fourteenth Annual Denworth Pub Quiz League,’ Tim finally boomed from his unnecessary microphone.

  ‘About bloody time,’ Jeff muttered.

  ‘Rules are same as last year,’ Tim continued. ‘Eight quizzes, each in one of the local pubs. There’ll be five rounds of trivia questions in each, plus the picture round. Play your Joker card on any round you like to double your points. An overall draw in the final will go to a best-of-three tiebreak. Anyone can take part for fun, but to enter the League competition, teams must be registered at the start, have a minimum of four members, a maximum of six, and live within a ten-mile radius of Denworth. That clear?’

  A chorus of dismissive grumbles met him. Everyone there knew how it worked.

  ‘This year, as well as the trophy, we’re playing for an eight-pint voucher per team plus a cash prize for first and second in each quiz, so eyes on the prize, lads and lasses. Right.’ Tim skimmed down a sheet of paper in his hand. ‘Looks like the usual suspects. Ten teams in all.’

  ‘Read them out, can you?’ Jeff called. ‘We haven’t got all night.’

  Tim shot a resentful look at his old school friend. ‘All right, princess, keep your beard on.’ He scanned the list of teams. ‘Okay, first up: The Cockwombles.’

  There was a cheer from a lairy group of lads sitting in the snug.

  ‘Always one, isn’t there?’ Si muttered to Clarrie.

  ‘Hmm. Wasn’t it you who named us David Beckham’s Cock Sock the year we did our A-Levels?’

  ‘No, it was Sonny.’

  She narrowed one eye. ‘Pretty sure it was you.’

  ‘Shut up, Clar.’

  ‘Right, next,’ Tim boomed. ‘A newcomer: The Pink Ladies.’

  Gemma’s gang, the only all-female team, gave a wave, drawing interested glances from the Cockwombles table.

  ‘Old favourites and two-time winners: The Murgatroyd Family,’ Tim bellowed.

  Barbara Murgatroyd, her husband, Jack, and their two sons smirked round the pub.

  Dave shook his head. ‘Every year. They should be disqualified for shit team-naming as well as blatant cheating.’

  ‘Our returning champs: Les Quizerables!’ There was a loud cheer from Darren’s team.

  Sonny shot him a resentful look. ‘Not this year, Daz. Not this year…’ he muttered.

  ‘All right, mate, try not to take it quite so seriously, eh?’ Si said. ‘It’s scary. You and Darren nearly ended up having a punch-up last final.’

  ‘He had it coming. Cheating bastard.’

  ‘He didn’t cheat, Sonny. We just lost.’

  ‘Look, whose side are you on?’

  Simon sighed. ‘Ours.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he’s a cheating bastard.’

  Dave was staring at the newest member of the Les Quiz team, the man with the round glasses.

  ‘I swear I know that bloke,’ he muttered.

  Tim ran quickly through the other teams. ‘The rest, all old hands: The Superbeeroes, The Frank Einsteins, The Quizzy Rascals, Spliceworld The Movie, Quiz-teama Aguilera, Let’s Get Quizzical, and finally –’ he shot Jeff a dirty look, ‘long-time challengers, no-time winners, The Mighty Morphin’ Flower Arrangers.’

  ‘Oh, that’s us,’ Sonny said. ‘Go on, cheer, guys.’

  Dave glared at him. ‘Not again. I thought we’d agreed on Trivial Purse Hooters.’

  ‘We didn’t agree on that, David, because it’s shit.’

  ‘No way! We always lose when we’re the Flower Arrangers.’

  ‘We always lose anyway,’ Clarrie said.

  ‘Yeah, because we’ve got a crap name,’ Dave said, glowering.

  Si clapped him on the shoulder. ‘No, Davy, because we’ve got crap general knowledge. Try not to take it too hard.’

  Dave shot Sonny a resentful look. ‘What was wrong with my team name, you?’

  ‘It’s sexist,’ Sonny said, raising his eyes. ‘You’ll offend the lady on the team.’

  ‘We haven’t got a lady. Just Clarrie.’

  ‘Oi.’ Clarrie sighed, the special oh-God-not-Dave-and-Sonny sigh she’d been perfecting since Year Seven. ‘Look, never mind the name, lads. It’s the taking part that counts, eh?’

  Sonny’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you off your head?’

  ‘You know, I’m starting to wonder. Go on then, what is the point?’

  Sonny and Dave answered almost in unison. ‘Beating Darren!’

  ‘Okay, first round – world literature,’ Tim announced.

  ‘Right, Clar, you’re on.’ Dave pushed the answer sheet to Clarrie.

  ‘Just because I run a bookshop doesn’t mean I know about books.’

  ‘You did English at university, didn’t you?’ Jeff said.

  ‘That just means I got plenty of sleep.’

  The mike crackled to life. ‘Question one,’ Tim said. ‘Which novel by William Makepeace Thackeray…’

  ‘Vanity Fair.’ Clarrie scribbled it on the answer sheet.

  Sonny eyed her suspiciously. ‘You didn’t hear the whole question.’

  ‘It’s always Vanity Fair. That’s the only Thackeray novel anyone knows.’

  ‘You better be taking this seriously, Clar.’

  ‘Yeah, Clar.’ Si smirked at her. ‘Don’t make Sonny put you over his knee.’

  ‘Look, it’s right, okay? No need f
or Sonny to get his paddle out.’

  ‘Not what you said last night,’ Sonny said.

  Dave raised his eyebrows. ‘Did you just crack a joke?’

  ‘What? I do jokes.’

  ‘Not when the League’s on you don’t, you just get that murderous glint in your eye. The thousand-yard stare and ridiculous beard of the committed psychopath.’

  Sonny stroked his chin. ‘Don’t mess with the beard, David. Just because I’m the sophisticated one and you’re a little ginger gnome.’

  ‘Oi.’ Jeff cuffed Sonny round the ear. ‘That’s the fruit of my loins there, sunshine.’

  Dave grimaced. ‘Let’s save your loins for after a few more pints, Dad, eh?’ He turned back to Sonny. ‘Who told you that you were sophisticated, evil overlord reject? Your mum?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Ha! That’s a yes then.’

  After Tim had whizzed through the literature questions, he moved on to entertainment.

  ‘Question one. Who played Darth Vader in the original Star Wars trilogy?’

  ‘Original theatrical releases or remastered?’ Dave called out.

  Tim turned to look at him. ‘Eh?’

  ‘Which versions? Before Lucas started pissing about with CGI dinosaurs or after?’

  ‘Christ, I dunno. The latest versions.’

  ‘Right. In that case, face, voice, body or ghost?’ Dave demanded.

  ‘You are taking the Michael, my lad.’

  ‘Seriously. There’s four right answers.’

  Tim sighed. ‘Right. Quarter for each then, if IMDB backs you up.’

  ‘Yes!’ Dave hissed to himself as he wrote down the answers. ‘The geek strikes back.’

  ‘You’re not making us any friends, Davy,’ Clarrie said. Resentful eyes had fixed on them from every corner of the pub.

  ‘We’re not here to make friends. We’re here to win.’ Sonny slapped Dave on the back. ‘Good work, ginger.’

  ‘Looks like somebody else knows it, though,’ Si said, nodding to the Les Quiz table. Speccy Bloke was scribbling enthusiastically, looking pleased with himself.

  ‘He won’t get Sebastian Shaw. No one ever gets him,’ Dave said. But he looked worried.

  ‘Hmm,’ Clarrie said. ‘Did they conscript their own pet geek?’

  ‘Looks like. And that was the one thing we had that they didn’t.’ Simon sighed. ‘Well, our odds just plummeted again.’