Tequila & Tea Bags (9 page)

There are silver barrels all over the place. Some seem to be plugged up to the wall and some don’t. I look closely at the wall and see that someone has named them, thank God. I scrutinise the messy handwriting, finally locating the Carlsberg, seeing the weird pump thing is empty. It almost looks like a penis pump. Weird. Not that I’ve ever seen one, but it’s how I imagine they look. I follow the lead down to the barrel and have to think about how I’m going to do this.

I’d call Megan, but she’s at a friend’s house. That’s the problem with being friends with a fifteen year old. Damn sleepovers.

I hold onto the handle, squeezing it and turn. I manage to unplug it easily and throw it to the floor. Success. Now I just have to find a Carlsberg barrel. I find it at the other bloody end of the room. Well that’s inconvenient. I go to lift it up and nearly scream from the pain in my arms.
Fuck
, that’s heavy. Jesus fucking Christ! There is no way I’m going to be able to lift this. Especially after the workout Mitsy gave me. Maybe I should call Will and ask for his help, but then…I don’t want to be all helpless in front of him. I don’t want him to think I’m some nit-wit with no idea what I’m doing. Which in reality is
exactly
what I am.

Maybe I could roll it over. That seems more do-able. I push it with all of my strength until it crashes down onto its side. Success! I roll it closer to the wall pump and when I’m happy that its close enough I try to drag it to upright again. Fuck! I need to start lifting weights, but Phil obviously thought I was capable or he wouldn’t have left me here, surely? I must just be a wimp. A big, fat, slutty wimp. Come on, Rose. You can do this.

I use all of my inner strength, the strength I imagine I’d have to use if I ever gave birth, and manage to pull it to standing. It hits the floor loudly…trapping my toe underneath an edge.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!

I fall back onto my arse, the pain too intense to even concentrate on anything. I only manage to hurt my leg further. AAAHHHH! The pain is so over powering that it blurs my vision. I desperately claw against it. It dawns on me that I have to do something to get out of this. It gives me the determination to spring up to a standing position, the pain rushing up my leg, and push it off my foot, cursing all the time. I’ve broken my toe. I must have broken my fucking toe!

I lean against another barrel and take my boot off. Thank God I wasn’t wearing flip flops or Elsie’s UGGs. I managed to hide them before I left for work. At least this had some support. Not that it seems to matter. The boot is basically broken; completely crushed. I carefully peel off my sock to see my toe is twice the size and the colour of a beetroot. Jesus! The nail is seriously bruised and there’s a little bit of blood. Ew!

I can't help it. I feel it brewing in my chest, the tears filling in my eyes. I let the cry of anguish being held in my throat go and burst into tears. Ugly, snotty tears. Why is life so hard?! I let myself wallow in it for a second. My parents not giving a shit, Janey not replying to my messages, the teeny boppers calling me a slag; all of it. The tears tumble down my cheeks and onto my sore shoulders, desperate for a hot bath.

I need to pull myself together. These people need their Carlsberg. I grab hold of the pump and try to work out what to do with it. I must just…secure it? I’m sure it's easy.

I hobble over to it and attempt to attach it. I’ve barely tried to press down when beer comes squirting out of it, spraying me in all directions! What the fuck? I pull it away, realising it's all over my top. It's basically see through. Great. Tonight really wasn’t the day to go braless. My nipples are like bullets. I take a deep breath and try again, pushing harder this time. More beer squirts out, this time covering my hair and getting my jeans and feet. For God’s sakes!

I let the tears take over again, slumping down on top of the barrel. This is hopeless.

‘Hey, are you okay?’

I look up through the tears to see Will standing in the hallway. As soon as he sees my face it's like I’ve crushed him. His whole face contorts in sympathy, as if he can feel my pain. He rushes over to me, bending down onto his knees in front of me in an attempt to look into my eyes, which I’m trying to hide. This is the ultimate humiliation. Crying in front of a guy.

‘What’s happened?’ he asks, his voice soft and sympathetic.

I sob louder. It's too ridiculous to say out loud. I mean, I’m sitting here with one shoe off, my toe the size of the empire state building and my clothes saturated with beer to the point of him being able to see my tits. It's pretty clear I’m having a break down.

‘I…I can't…change a…’ I break into a sob again, covering my face with my hands.

He pulls my hands away from my face so I’m looking into his caring eyes. ‘A barrel?’ he grins. ‘Yeah, that’s pretty clear.’

What a smug bastard.

I hit his strong chest, my weak hands doing nothing to hurt him.

‘And…’ I sniff, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, very unladylike, ‘I crushed my toe!’ I realise I’m whining like a two year old, but I can't help it. My life is ridiculous. I’m stupid. I hate myself.

And the worst thing is that I know all of this is my own stupid fault. My own stubbornness. I should have just told Phil I hadn’t changed a barrel before, so he taught me before he left. Or I should have taken Will’s offer for help and made him come with me.

He stands up and grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. I lower my eyes to the side, ashamed. I can't imagine the mess I must look like. I refuse to wear waterproof mascara; it dries out my lashes, so I must look like a demented panda. He waits patiently until I look back at him, our eyes locking intensely. His eyes are such a clear, intense green.

‘We’ll get some ice for your foot, don’t worry. And I’ll change the barrel.’ He starts to walk over to it, but I grab his arm. Jeez, it’s muscly.

‘No. Teach me how to do it. I need to learn.’

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. Probably used to princesses who like men to just swoop in and save the day. Not me. I’m mortified.

‘Okay,’ he nods. He helps me up and hands me over the pump. ‘The trick is that you have to press down really hard and then twist, otherwise this happens.’ He points to my clothes.

‘Yeah, I got that what I was doing was wrong,’ I snarl sarcastically while jumping off the barrel. I bite back the scream from putting pressure on my foot.  

‘Okay, clever clogs. Off you go,’ he says, gesturing towards the barrel.

Shit. I shouldn’t have been so cocky.

I take a discreet deep breath and attach the pump, trying to hold it down and twist hard, just like he said. Beer fires everywhere, getting Will too. I persevere, thinking it might need to do that a little bit to work. Will pulls his hands up over his head and shouts, and then pushes me out of the way to secure it.

We both stand still in the after math, our breath heaving out of our chests erratically. He’s soaked, his shirt clinging to his broad chest. How did I never realise how built he was before? He raises his eyebrow sarcastically. And he has a washboard stomach? Quick, look away!

‘Why did you have to take over?’ I demand aggressively, deciding that’s the best emotion to go with right now. ‘Now I’ll never know how to do it.’

‘Sorry,’ he snaps, his eyes like ice. ‘I was under the impression that you wanted some beer left
in
the barrel.’

I scrunch my face up in anger, leaning into his face. I could
so
punch him in the nose right now. The know it all bastard. Who the hell does he think he is?

He looks back just as mad, but then his eyes soften slightly, and before I know what’s happening he’s smiling.

‘You’re cute when you’re angry.’

I’m so thrown off from it I actually stumble, shifting my weight to my painful toe. I wince. Fuck! He grabs my arms to steady me. God, he’s got strong arms.

‘I’m not cute!’ I snap. ‘I’ve never been called cute before.’

‘Well, there’s a first for everything,’ he grins, his eyes dancing with amusement.

He’s such a dick.

‘
Puppies
are cute. I’m sexy, not cute.’ I try to pull a sexy face, but then I remember I have a broken toe, am soaked in beer, and potentially have all of my make up half way down my face. Probably not my best look.

He looks intently over my face, and I’m sure he’s going to laugh right in it. Tell me I’m a minger right now and that I should have taken the compliment while I had the chance. But instead something shifts between us. I’m suddenly aware of every sound in the room; the beer taps buzzing loudly in my ear. He’s breathing heavier than normal and there’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s serious about something. What I don’t know.

‘You’re right,’ he whispers, his voice smooth like honey.

‘Huh?’

I’m right?
He’s letting me think I’m right?

‘You
are
sexy,’ he says quietly.

I can't help it; I swoon and look at his lips. I never noticed before how plump and sexy they are and it makes me wonder what they taste like. I’m itching to touch them. I have a feeling he’d taste earthy. Almost dirty. I force myself to look away, already feeling bereft. Get a hold of yourself, Rose.  

When I look back into his eyes I realise he’s looking at
my
lips. Shit, he’s thinking the same thing as me. I lean in, ever so slowly, giving him the chance to reject me. Giving me the chance to laugh it off and say I fell over, only he’s moving too, even if it is the speed of a snail. I swallow. Oh my God, we’re actually going to do this. This is it. It’s happening.

‘Err, sorry to interrupt?’ a loud voice booms with authority.

We both snap our heads around to the door. Phil’s standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. Shit.

‘Does someone want to explain to me why the bar isn’t manned right now?’ He looks over our wet clothes and how close we look. ‘Unless I’m interrupting something?’ he says sarcastically.

‘No!’ I laugh, far too forced. ‘I…just…it's all my fault. I’m so sorry,’ I ramble.

‘Rose, I think we’re going to have to talk.’ He looks seriously pissed. Shit. I know that tone all too well. He’s going to fire me. Another job lost.

I need this money or I’ll be begging Janey to share her beans on toast with me.

‘She’s lying,’ Will says, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

I turn to him, completely confused. The absolute bastard is ratting me out. He’s going to tell him that I’ve never changed a barrel in my life and that he was a fool to trust me. How could he do this to me? The cold hearted bastard. Jesus, I wonder whether he’ll think the same thing and get me removed from the home?

‘It was my fault,’ he declares.

I stare at him aghast, my mouth almost hitting the floor.

‘Really?’
Phil smirks. ‘You can explain this, can you?’ he challenges.

‘Yes,’ he nods seriously. What the hell can he say to get us out of this? ‘I’ve never changed a barrel before and I begged Rose to teach me. It's not her fault I was absolutely useless with it. She tried to take over, but I kept insisting. I’m really sorry.’

Phil looks between the both of us, sighing heavily. ‘Is this true, Rose?’

I look back at Will for confirmation. He does the smallest nod, sure that Phil doesn’t notice.

‘Erm…yeah. It's true,’ I whisper, my voice barely audible.

‘Well, we still need to talk. You can't just abandon the bar so that you can teach someone to change barrels. It's very unprofessional,’ he chastens.

‘Sorry,’ I mumble, staring at the floor.

‘It's fine. And Will, I thought you would have been more sensible. Don’t let me catch you behind this bar again,’ he warns.

‘Sorry,’ we both whimper like children.

He turns to walk back and we follow. I desperately try to avoid Will’s gaze, even though I obviously have to thank him for saving my arse. Only now I can’t stop looking at his.  

Monday 13
th
October

The next day I avoid Will like the plague, only wherever I bloody turn there he is. I also don’t know if it's the whole saving me/almost kissing thing, but he seems so much more attractive to me. I mean, he was clearly never butt ugly, but he pissed me off so much it was easy to not see it. Not to see his strong set jaw or his adorable dimple under his left eye. Now I can't stop thinking about how messy his hair is and how it always seems to fall to the left side. I can't work out whether he deliberately styles it like that or if it just falls naturally. See what I mean? Why on earth am I obsessing over his hair? It's this village. It's making me stir crazy.

I bound into Betty’s room at midday with her lunch. Apparently she’s been tired today so she hasn’t been down in the lounge. Just chilling in bed watching This Morning. Being old doesn’t sound so bad. I’m just glad for the sanctuary. I hand over her tuna mayo sandwich and open up my own cheese and pickle sandwich.

‘So tell me,’ she beams excitedly, ‘how was the dressage?’

‘Really good,’ I nod, trying to hide the smile on my face. Why do I want to smile like a loon? ‘I got to know Will a bit better.’

‘Oh, aye,’ she grins, raising her eyebrows in question.

‘Not like that, you dirty minded old lady!’ I scold jokingly.

I hope I’m this cool when I’m old.

‘Hey! Less of the old,’ she moans, pouting dramatically.

I chuckle and fill her in on the whole thing. Me volunteering to help look after Mitsy and the whole weirdness that was the cellar last night.

‘That’s what a great dress will do for you,’ she winks, clearly pleased with its influence. I’d say she’s definitely team Will over James. ‘I’m chuffed someone got to wear it again. I always thought I’d pass it on to my daughter one day.’ She looks sad for a second, before masking it and biting into her sandwich.

‘It
is
a great dress,’ I snigger.

‘Aye. Last time I wore that it was 1958. My thirtieth birthday. I spent it in Paris.’

She grabs a photo album and shows me a photo of her on that night. She looks unbelievable. Curves like a race car and long dark brown hair, tumbling over her shoulders in sexy waves. She’s stood with a good looking older man with a weird moustache.

‘Who’s that?’ I point to the guy. ‘And what were you doing in Paris?’

Her life was so bloody exciting and here I am in Yorkshire.

‘I went over there to work as a nurse. Had a wild time, let me tell you,’ she laughs fondly. ‘That’s Colbert. He was a senior doctor in the hospital.’

I grin, imagining this young, beautiful Betty wrapping good looking men round her little finger.

‘Oh, yeah, play a bit of doctors and nurses, eh?’ I ask playfully, raising my eyebrows.

‘We did more than that, my love.’ Her cheeks pink up, even though she seems anything but embarrassed.

Ew.

‘He proposed to me that night. Took me out to a fancy hotel for a delicious meal and then we went for a walk. Asked me to marry him underneath the Eiffel Tower. It wasn’t so common back then as it is nowadays.’

He wanted to marry her? Jesus, this woman’s had more marriage proposals than Liza Minnelli.

‘So, what did you say? Did you marry him?’

‘Of course not.’ She adamantly shakes her head.

‘Why?’

I don’t get it. Surely it was a second chance at happiness for her. I can tell she’s happy in the photo. I can see it in her eyes. They look carefree and mischievous.

She sighs heavily. ‘Because I was still in love with Thomas, Will’s grandad. Even after all those years I couldn’t bear to settle for second best. Everyone paled in comparison to him.’

‘That’s so sad,’ I blurt out loud.

‘That and he was already married,’ she adds, as if this is no big deal.

‘WHAT?’ I exclaim, nearly falling off my chair.

‘Yes love, I was his mistress.’

‘Betty!’

I can't believe her. I’d never have had her down as the mistress sort. Not that I can judge, of course. My romantic history is hardly a Mills and Boon story.

She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, don’t get up on your high horse. I’m sure his wife knew. Women just put up with things back then. Anyway, it gave me the push I needed to move onto Ireland. And that’s a
whole
other story!’

Jesus, this woman needs to write a book.

‘What happened in Ireland?’

‘That’s a story for another day, my love.’ She does actually look tired. ‘But throughout all my adventures, I’d give them all up to have married Thomas and lived happily ever after. But it wasn’t to be.’ She looks so forlorn.

‘I’m so sorry, Betty.’

She smiles sadly. ‘Don’t be, my dear. Just don’t make the same mistakes.’

What does she mean by that? I don’t press her as she looks beat, bless her. Being old just seems to zap your energy. I kiss her goodbye and walk back down the corridor.  

  ‘Rose!’ I hear him call. I turn around to see Will walking towards me.

My whole body tenses. Crap. He looks especially smoking hot today in his dark jeans that make his arse look amazing and a light blue shirt, open at the collar, exposing the tiniest bit of chest hair. God, how I’d love to run my fingers through it. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows showing off his perfect forearms. Focus, Rose.  

‘Hi!’ I say, my pitch far too high and unnatural.

‘I’ve been looking for you all day.’ He smiles and I nearly fall over. He’s just too beautiful. How was I ever blind to it?

‘Really?’ My heart rate spikes.

Play it cool, Rose. Why the hell has he been looking for me? He probably just wants me to thank him for saving me last night at the pub. Take all the glory. Smug bastard.

‘Yeah. I meant to ask you this morning how it went with Mitsy? I’m sorry I just abandoned you to ride her on your own.’

Oh yeah, Mitsy. Shit, I forgot to let her out this morning! That’s not a good start. She must still be in her onesie, poor thing.

‘No, that’s fine,’ I say, laughing it off. ‘A lady at the stables helped me.’ I try to sound as aloof as possible. The poor bloody horse.

‘Still,’ he grimaces, rocking on his heels with his hands in his pockets. ‘I feel bad.’

Not as bad as I feel. I’m going to be reported for horse cruelty.

‘It’s fine,’ I shrug, feeling worse by the second. ‘And thanks for last night. Not just covering for me with Phil, but for tolerating me while I was a blubbering mess.’

Just thinking about what I must have looked like makes me inwardly cringe.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he grins, popping that adorable dimple. It makes my Lulu tingle, which I know is ridiculous. ‘Anyway,’ he straightens his face. ‘I have an official question for you.’

I gulp, my throat suddenly dry. ‘Official?’ I ask my voice unsteady.

Oh my God. What the hell could it be? Does he need references or something?
Good luck.

‘O…kay?’ I mumble nervously, my pulse quickening.  

He bites his lip and looks away from me. ‘I bumped into Violet yesterday and I asked her why she decided not to stick around.’

My stomach falls to my feet. Oh shit. Shit being the appropriate word. Why the hell did I
ever
think pooing in a tray would be a good idea?!

‘Mmm,’ I nod, hoping if I don’t speak he won't be able to sense my internal panic. Although I’m sure he can smell the sweat off me.

‘Anyway,’ he hesitates, running his hand through his wayward hair. ‘She said something about having to clean up…poo.’ He swallows nervously. ‘Do you…know anything about that?’ He looks baffled and mortified to even be having this conversation.  

Oh, holy fuck. What am I going to do? How could I have been so bloody stupid? In what universe did I think that this would work out? I could always call Violet a liar. Yes, that sounds legible, right?

‘She…she must be mistaken,’ I stutter. ‘I don’t remember anything about poo.’ It’s so hard to keep my voice even. Why am I such a tool?

‘Really?’ he asks, creasing his forehead in suspicion.

I can feel sweat forming on my upper lip. Keep it breezy, Rose. Keep it fucking BREEZY.

He bites his lip, seeming to consider it. ‘She’s a very trustworthy girl. You do realise she’s the vicar’s daughter?’

Oh for
Christ’s
sakes. Why did I pick on the vicar’s daughter? Of all bloody people.

‘Oh, well…it doesn’t matter who her father is,’ I snap, discreetly wiping my sweaty forehead. ‘The fact is she’s
obviously
lying. I mean, maybe she’s a compulsive liar or something. Rebelling against the whole vicar’s daughter thing. I don’t know. I’m not a therapist.’ I realise I’m babbling, but I just can't stop myself.

He looks back at me distrustfully. Possibly too much, Rose. You frigging idiot. I attempt a confident smile.

‘Okay,’ he nods, seeming satisfied. I feel my arse de-clench itself. Thank God. ‘I believe you. She’s Riley’s sister so I promised I’d look into it.’

Riley’s sister? Shit shit shit! If possible I actually feel worse that he has faith in me. I’m a no good liar. Quickly, think of something to distract him.

‘Bingo!’ I shout out of nowhere, desperation colouring my tone.

He jumps, his eyes widening in alarm. I was a
little
loud. ‘Come again?’

Oh God, I’d love to come just the one time. My throbbing Lulu tells me I want to do it with him over and over again until I’m sore. Oh God, I’m going off track. Focus your slutty little mind!

‘I think we should plan some bingo. And…you know, maybe some other events like…an outdoor cinema viewing for the whole village?’

Yes, that sounds viable, right?

He looks surprised. ‘That’s a great idea, actually.’

Okay, now I’m kind of offended. What, he doesn’t think I’m capable of a good idea?

‘I know it is,’ I say, sounding more affronted than I meant to. I cross my hands over my chest.

‘Well, if you need me to come around to brainstorm let me know.’

He smiles before turning and sauntering off, that arse of his practically waving. Oh I will, Big Willy. I will.
Sigh.

***

Tuesday 14
th
October

As I lead Mitsy out of the stables the following morning, I can't help but think of the shit storm I’m brewing for myself. Why on earth I had to tell Will that Violet was lying, I don’t know. I mean, she’s the vicar’s daughter for God’s sakes. If I wanted to make enemies she’s probably the worst person to pick. I’d confide in Elsie, but I’m scared to mention it. I know she’d go mental and take her side. And why shouldn’t she? She’d be right. When you put our values up against each other there’s just no contest.

I lead Mitsy into the field and tell her to have a good day. I’m really not looking forward to facing Will. Especially if he’s had a chance to talk to Violet again. Or Riley. She’s probably filling his head with lies. Evil bitch.

I walk straight into a rush of red hair, jumping back to apologise. I straighten myself back up, picking her hair out of my lip gloss.

‘Riley!’ I breathe, trying desperately to keep some composure.

Speak of the devil and they shall appear. She smiles, her perfect teeth giving her a Hollywood effect. There’s just something about her I don’t trust. I think that vicar and his wife are breeding devils. How ironic.  

‘Hey, Rose,’ she beams, her brown eyes warm and friendly. ‘I was just visiting Mrs Johnson. Her dad just had a heart attack,’ she says, answering my unspoken question. She leans in and whispers, ‘Too much of the red wine I think.’

I laugh because I feel I should. I know she’s trying to be nice, but I’m sure underneath it all she doesn’t like me. I just get a vibe.

‘Anyway, I was wondering if you fancied a night out soon?’ she smiles hopefully, her eyes almost pleading.

Night out? Did she really just say night out?

‘You mean down to the Dog and Pond?’

‘No,’ she laughs, rolling her eyes in a jovial manner. ‘I was thinking about going into the next village. There’s some fun bars there.’

My party brain wakes up.

‘Bars? As in…places that don’t also serve a family friendly roast dinner?’ I ask, desperation clear in my tone.

‘Yep,’ she beams. ‘I thought you’d be up for it. Someone needs to show you the fun side of living here. Besides, it helps when I get drunk away from my students.’ She giggles girlishly.

‘Students?’ I blurt out.

‘Aye. I’m the primary school teacher. Didn’t Will tell you?’ she asks, confused.

I shrug, nonplussed. She looks more hurt than she probably should. A definite sign she still has feelings for Will.

‘Anyway.’ She shakes her head as if to pull herself together. ‘What about tomorrow night? Elsie can come too.’

I look her over and try to judge her intentions. Worst case scenario she’s trying to suss me out and see if I fancy Will. And I still get to leave this village and ingest alcohol.