by Sam Cullan
Chapter Thirteen
The Rover swept into the car park and pulled up. Will turned to Alice and asked her again, “Sure you wanna do this?”
“Yep. My first English pub. Gotta be done.”
“OK, but remember the names.”
“I'm Brittany and you're Murphy. Sounds daft to me.”
Will was not good with names and could only think of his favourite actress, whom he mourned greatly. “Correct. Murphy can be a first name.”
Will was, as ever, prepared for the worst. They might not recognize her immediately, but if they caught her name they might put two and two together. He told her he'd play the game and she could call him Murphy, but he figured if he had to hit somebody it would be best they didn't have a name that would give the police a lead.
Will led Alice to the door of the Black Rabbit public house and held it open. Alice sidled past, stopping to read the sign: Beware of the Rabbit. She laughed and looked at Will with incredulity. “Are they serious?”
“Totally.”
“Ho-K.”
Will was in luck - the bar was clear. He had planned to stash Alice in a dark corner and get all the drinks himself. The barmaid was waiting for them.
“Evening.” Barmaid smiled.
“Evening,” replied Will.
“Hi,” chirped Alice.
“What can I get you?”
“Pint of Otter and ...” He looked at Alice.
“Bottle of lager, cold, please.”
“Any preference? Glass?”
“No, yes.”
“Oh, and a menu please.” Will was hungry.
Drinks in hand, they looked around the bar and chose a seat in a corner that was partially hidden behind a large, plastic weeping fig. They made themselves comfortable, Will sitting as close as possible to his precious package. Alice scanned the room. She had never seen so many wooden beams – on the walls, on the ceiling, above the fire, on the floor, across the windows – and there were pictures and plastic knick-knacks filling every available space.
“This is cosy.”
“Yeah, not too bad. Bit fake, plaster beams, bit bright.” Will preferred real beams – ones that were part of the structure and not just for show – and the light was too bright, highlighting the stained, cream-coloured walls and ceiling.
“At least the beer's cold.”
“Mine isn't.”
“Can I try the Otter pee?”
“Sure.” Will passed the glass and she took a sip, followed by a gulp.
“Steady! If you want a pint, I'll get you one.”
“I'm good.” She handed back two-thirds of a pint.
“Well, a productive day I think. We slept together, had a fight, bought some more wine and beer, found a dead starfish, and saw a steam engine. What do you want to eat?”
“Umm … salad?”
“Not your traditional pub food in this area - might be a bit manky.”
“Manky?”
“Foul, smelly, rotten.”
“Err OK, well maybe a burger.”
“Salad with that?”
“You just said ...”
“Well they usually serve it as a side dish.”
“You're a dork.”
“Careful, I can cancel that agreement with God, any time.”
“Bastard. I can cancel your balls, any time. I know a few tricks.”
“I'm sure you do, but I wouldn't advertise it.”
“Huh?”
“Whores do tricks.”
“Oh ... I really must learn the language. I thought people who use whores were tricks.”
“Not here. I'll order.” Will leapt to the bar and waved the menu at the barmaid, who was arranging slices of fluffy lemon on a green paper plate.
“Two burgers, fries, and side salad, please.”
“Be about ten minutes, sir.”
“OK.”
Will returned to find the beer in his glass had evaporated by another third. He turned and waved at the barmaid, “And another pint of Otter, please.”
OK luv, I'll bring it over.”
Will nodded and rejoined Alice, who was looking drunker than when he left her.
“If you pass out in Gidwell, don't expect me to carry you back to the car.”
“I need to be drunk.”
“I have that effect on women.”
“Evidently.”
They were soon joined by the barmaid carrying Will's pint, “There you are, sir.” She looked at Alice, her eyes scanning the face. “Don't I know you?”
“Err, no, sorry, don't think so. Murphy, what time is it?”
“It's eight-fifteen, Brittany.”
“Thanks Murphy.”
“No problem, Brittany.”
The barmaid looked at them, thinking either they were out on day-release from the local loony bin or they were foreigners. “Yes, well I'll be back shortly with your food.” She turned and tutted “Grockles” under her lemony breath.
“I'm sorry about my little episode this morning.”
“Please, there's nothing to be sorry about.”
“I don't want to hurt anybody.”
“Me?”
“Well, yes, you.”
“My feelings for you won't change, regardless of what you do. So do what makes you happy, not what you think is best for me – and that applies to all relationships.”
“You're very err, pragmatic.”
“I see things as they are, and don't try to change them to fit with my beliefs.”
“I think that's what I said.”
“Sorry, yeah. Too many people try to live their lives according to what they think other people want, instead of just getting on with it. I care deeply for you, but I don't expect you to change anything just because I told you, nor will it change my attitude toward you.”
“I care about you, too. You're so easy to get along with - I feel I can relax around you.”
“You were very relaxed last night.”
Alice blushed, and physically stopped herself apologizing again by chewing her fist.
“The main thing is, talk to me if you have an issue. I won't judge you, or think any less of you.”
“Thanks, Murphy.”
Will turned to see the barmaid hovering with two plates. “Here we are, Murphy, is it, and Brittany. Enjoy your meal.”
They tucked into a tasty burger, cold wrinkly fries, and a rather insipid salad.
“We don't have to go tonight.” Alice was finding the prospect of being tipsy more appealing than standing in a cold, dark, haunted ruin.
“We might was well get it over with.”
“Yeah, you're right.” Alice thought of the alcohol stashed in Will's car - it would taste better after an adventure. She was keen to get acquainted with Betty, as well as renew her acquaintance with Bob. “I need to pee.”
Will's heart filled with dread. “Pee, in a grotty pub loo?”
“I gotta go.”
“OK, just don't touch anything.”
Alice had spotted the sign earlier and headed for the door. She stopped to ask the barmaid something which had been bothering her.
“Do you have a rabbit?”
“Oh, yes dear.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Well, le's jus' say, you don't wanna look'ee in the eye.”
The barmaid winked and turned to serve a couple of rustics. Alice wondered why the barmaid had suddenly developed an accent, and what situation she could find herself in where her only option might be to look a killer-rabbit in the eye. She approached the ladies' WC with apprehension. There was a sign that read No Rabbits along with a silhouette of a bunny behind a red circle, with a red diagonal line across it. This is a strange country. Inside, she was attacked only by a startling red and black colour scheme, which she supposed might possibly be intended to mask dirt and blood. She saw no creatures of any form, although was disturbed to see a pile of small, round black objects in a corner of the grubby floor.
“Pees?”
“Excuse me?!” Alice was rather taken aback by the personal nature of the question.
“I think they're peas. I expect the rabbit brought them in. Look like they've been there a while, don't they?”
“Err, yeah.” Alice smiled politely at the little old lady with a brush, who had crept in after her. She assumed it took the old dear a few weeks to sweep the entire premises. She leapt into a stall and plastered the shiny black seat with shiny grey toilet paper, then tried valiantly to hover, remembering what Will had told her.
Pees successfully completed, and peas safely contained in the old dear's dustpan, Alice swiftly washed her hands in the icy cold water, wiped them on a dozen or so sheets of green paper towel, and exited the cave of garish gloom. She was relieved to see Will had bought her another beer, as she was getting a taste for the soothing liquid and quite enjoyed the side-effects. She'd become frustrated at having to remain sober and coherent all her life, afraid to tarnish her image. Will didn't see her image, he saw her - and she was getting very comfortable in her role as his drinking buddy and adopted daughter - a combination she would, three days previous, have found rather perverse.
She'd failed to put that thought aside when she rejoined Will. “Hey pervert, miss me?”
Will was not unaccustomed to the tag. “Of course I missed you. I had to pay for the drinks.”
“I'll make it up to you.”
“Promises, promises.”
Will looked around the public bar, which had slowly filled, and he was feeling uneasy. He thought he recognized a couple of bumpkin-types sat at the bar. One of them must have felt Will's eyes burning into his neck, for he turned and nodded, raising his glass in salute. Will quickly shifted his attention to a beer mat, turning it over and reading all three words very slowly. He balanced the beer mat on the edge of the table, and aligned his flattened fingers underneath. With a swift, sharp, upward blow, the mat somersaulted in the air and was snapped in the grip of Will's thumb and fingers before it had finished rising.
“Neat trick.” Alice correctly guessed that was the necessary response.
“I can do it with more, a dozen, if we had them.”
“Want me to fetch some?”
“Nah, it's OK.”
Alice noticed Will's fidgeting. “Do you want to go?”
“May as well, we have a half-hour drive.”
They rose and shuffled past a group of women dressed as Playboy bunnies who'd sat at the table next to them. Rabbits, thought Alice, sensing a theme. Will was trying not to attract the attention of his rustic antagonists, and thought he'd slip by quietly, sideways with his back to them. He bumped into a bunny who squealed, and he turned to apologize. He caught antagonist number one, who had been following his progress.
“Alright bay? Look Terry, it's that lad we caurt cummin up Nances Passage.”
“Oh arr, so tis.”
Alice, like most of the bar’s punters, heard every word. She gave Will a look which turned his blushing face an even deeper shade of beetroot.
Will smiled grittily at the tittering twits, and ushered Alice toward the door.
“Who's Nancy?”
“Err, just some prostitute.”
“Oh, that's OK then.”
Alice pictured a foursome - or maybe there were more - of Will, his scruffy friends, and a hooker. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“I came up her passage after I met you in Satan's Crack, and those two were there. Nothing to tell.” Will was a little flustered and afterwards decided he could have chosen more words, better words, and words in a different order. He was trying to prise Alice through the exit, but she seemed reluctant.
“So you're not celibate? And you do it in public? With hookers?”
Will decided he needed a time out. “I have to pee, here’s the key, let yourself in.”
Alice wasn't entirely happy at being seen with a well-known local exhibitionist, or at being accused of entering Satan's Crack - whatever that was. She reluctantly took the keys and turned to exit the pub. Her path was blocked by three young smoking men.
“Excuse me.”
“Why luv, what ya done?” Tittering followed. “Are you American? Nice arse.”
“Excuse me?! Can I get by, please.”
“Don't I know you?”
“No, sorry, this is my first time here.”
“Never mind darlin', we'll look after you.” More tittering followed, and they closed in on her.
Alice was beginning to wish she'd given the pub thing a miss. She smiled, praying Will would return. He may be a pervert, but he was her best hope of exiting without having her ass groped.
“Alright, Brittany?”
Alice rolled her eyes upwards and thanked God.
“Oi mate, this your daughter?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?” Tittering, more of.
“No.”
“Won't mind if we 'ave a go, then.”
“I do mind. Fuck off.” Alice was taken aback by the intensity, but rather glad Will had a manly side.
“No need for that, chap. Jus' 'avin a larf.
Will smiled his gritted-teeth smile and took Alice by the arm, pushing through the barricade.
“Oi watch it mate, you spilt me beer.”
“Sorry.” Will was through the hungry pack, and wasn't about to stop and wipe the spillage away.
“What you gonna do 'bout it?”
Will felt a hand flick the back of his head. He turned and glared, as evil a glare as Alice had ever seen. The lads were too drunk to recognize the danger.
“I said sorry. You should have moved when we asked. Please don't touch me again, as it will make me very angry.”
“Ooooo, Mr tough guy, you gonna turn green?” Inevitably, they tittered - a lot. The lad with beer on his arm slapped Will across the face with a cold, rough hand, slowly and deliberately, before standing back and tittering some more. Will's right arm unleashed in a split-second, forcing a flattened palm squarely into the nose of the irritant, who felt his nose smash and blood gushing across his face. His accomplices started toward Will, but the sobering sight of their friend with a broken, bloody face, told them Will's evil glare was a warning they ought to heed.
“Go on, try it.” Will was more than happy to break their noses too, and if they didn't give him an excuse he'd probably do it just for the hell of it.
“Murphy, let's go. NOW.” Alice smiled with tight lips and raised eyebrows, adding in a fair imitation of Cockney, “See ya, boys.” She dragged Will backwards and opened the car door, pushing him in. Racing round the other side, she jumped in and slammed the door. “We need to talk.”
Will started the car and roared out onto the main road. After five miles of silence he pulled into a lay-by.
“Nancy's Passage is the path where I first met you. They're just morons. I call it Satan's Crack.”
“Oh, well, fine.” Alice was relieved in a way, but it really wasn't what she wanted to talk about. “You broke his nose.”
“So?”
“Don't you think you over-reacted?”
“No.” Will was defiant.
“Well, I do.”
“They were looking at you, and I know what they were thinking. And he hit me first.”
“He barely touched you, but that's not the point. And … what if he recognized me? It'll be in the news tomorrow. I have a reputation.” She quickly realised Will had done it for that very reason, and the attention would be on him. “Sorry, no, that's unfair. Forget I said that.”
“Look, you're not from round here. If in doubt, hit first. Wait for them to hit you, and it could be too late - one lucky blow and you're out cold, getting a kicking - brain damage. I've seen it happen. Not to mention I've already been concussed once this week.” Will felt the lump on the back of his head, which was still sore. He was nevertheless troubled by Alice's predicament. “They won't remember you, and even if they did think you looked like someone famous, you must have people
who can swear you were elsewhere.”
Alice did, and anyway she could probably use a little scandal. She'd take whatever came her way, and deal with it. “Still, it seemed excessive. Couldn't you just restrain him?”
“Him, maybe. All three? No. And he could've had a knife.”
“What if his friends had a knife?”
“Well, they'd think twice about using it on a psycho like me.”
Alice accepted her friend's reasoning, but felt uneasy that she'd been the cause of the violence. This didn't happen at the parties she attended back in L.A. or New York. This was a strange country and it took some getting used to. She considered herself a girl of the world however, and supposed it could have been worse – such as if Will had walked away and got a knife in the back. She mulled over the potential outcomes of her encounter. Will had done it to protect her, he could have walked away and allowed her to be verbally and physically molested by a bunch of animals. She'd had some basic self-defence training and thought she could deal with nasty situations, but having been so close to the blood, beer and testosterone she started to doubt her ability. She would need to take the advanced class, or hang out with Will in a few more pubs.
“I guess I should thank you.”
“No need. I'd have hit the twat anyway.”
Alice allowed herself a laugh. “You're now officially my bodyguard. You passed the test.”
“I did?”
“Yep.”
“Trust me?”
“Totally. I feel safe knowing you're not a wuss.” Alice was a little tingly, and beginning to imagine more dangerous and exciting situations Will could rescue her from. She held his arm, and kissed his cheek.
“You did the right thing, Batman. Let's go.” She smiled. “Oh, and if you hit me in the face, I'll break your arm. And cut your balls off. And your dick. I got some moves.” She waved her arms and made high-pitched oriental noises.
“You were just waiting for me to mess up so you could jump in and save me, weren't you?”
“You got it. Let's go kill a monk.”
“The monastery, then?”
“Let's start with a dead monk, and work our way up.”
The Batmobile swept into the night, harmony having being restored between the two super-heroes.
