Crappily Ever After (27 page)

‘And what’s more,’ continues Jean, ‘he was searching around for you to save him like a little lost puppy.’

‘Oh whisht,’ I dismiss them with a toss of my head, ‘remind me, when is your flight home?’

‘A week on Thursday,’ laughs Jean. ‘But we’ll be checking out your website for news once we get back. This is better than
Coronation Street.’
            

The waitress carries over lunch for Sam and her boyfriend. Sam glowers over at me and nibbles daintily on a salad leaf. Tenacity of a Jack Russell on heat that one. I can spot the type. She’ll be going nowhere after lunch. She straightens in her seat as Mike walks back into the bar and peers at him coyly under eyelashes heavy with mascara. She whispers something to her boyfriend and then makes her way over, sidling up to Mike.

‘I need a private word,’ she demands.

‘Oh, now what could this be? You’re not going to tell me you’re pregnant are you?’ Mike asks.

‘Good God no!’ She runs a hand over her concave stomach and looks at him aghast.

‘Why, do I
look
pregnant?’ she fusses. Mike tuts and rolls his eyes.

‘Look, not here,’ she whispers, looking pointedly at me. ‘Too many eavesdroppers.’

‘Like Lucy said, Sam, you are not allowed around this side of the bar, so whatever you have to say, say it here.’

‘Or, we could take a walk on the beach?  Sam suggests hopefully.

‘No Sam, I already told you, I have work to do. The evening crowd will be in soon and…’

‘Fine!’ she snaps, a flash of annoyance crosses her face before she quickly gathers herself. She perches on the edge of a bar stool and turns her body away from the rest of us; we’re all trying desperately to hear what’s being said whilst making it appear like we‘re not interested. Sam begins her tale of woe.

‘Things with my ex didn’t work out. He’d lost his job and…’

‘… couldn’t afford to fund your lifestyle,’ Mike finishes.

‘No! Will you let me speak?’ she spits, like the spoilt Madam that she is. ‘Well, anyway, I’ve been with Oscar now for almost three weeks, but I’m bored already,’ she sighs dramatically. ‘So,’ a confident pause and smile, ‘I’ve decided to give us another try.’

‘Oh, you have, have you?’ Mike replies in amazement, his booming laugh carries through the entire bar, startling some men sitting in the corner watching football on the big screen.

‘Yes,’ she replies with a wide smile. ‘We were so happy in Chiswick, but here would be even better. I may even do a few shifts for you,’ she trails a finger down the side of his face.

Mike looks lost in thought for a moment. He looks down at Sam, his eyes rest on her cleavage. Sam smiles slowly, thinking she’s got him at last.

Phil, Jean and I look at each other in disbelief. Jean nods furiously at me to do something. I’m about to declare that the lager’s gone off when Mike looks into Sam’s eyes.

She flutters prettily.

‘Are your implants sagging?’ he enquires.

Sam gives a shriek and clutches her bosom.

‘No! They are not!... Are they?’ her voice wavers.

‘Looks like it to me,’ Mike replies seriously. ‘You should have stuck to your original Harley Street plan. These backstreet plastic surgeons are a false economy. Look Sam,’ his voice is low and angry, ‘don’t waste my time. I have all I could ask for in a woman now.’ He gives a nod in my direction, as I look on in amusement and surprise, ‘So, leave me alone.’

‘Ha! I’d be happy to leave you
alone
. It’s leaving you with her, that’s the problem,’ Sam announces with disgust. ‘She doesn’t even do her eyebrows! God only knows what her bikini line is like!’

Bitch! Just fine, thanks.

‘Sam, you are being offensive to the landlady. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

‘Fine,’ she hisses, ‘I was only trying to do you a favour anyway. I don’t need you. Oscar’s a lawyer,’ she adds childishly, before stropping over to her table, still holding on to her chest.

‘Come on Oscar, we’re leaving,’ she announces. Oscar reluctantly puts down his fork, which is halfway to his mouth and loaded with fish and chips. Sam snatches up her bag and turns as Mike calls out her name.

‘And you can keep the CDs if it means I never have to hear from you again. Besides, I know how much you secretly love S-Club Seven – I wouldn’t take them away from you.’ Phil high fives Mike. With a final flounce, Sam is gone, Oscar trailing obediently behind – no doubt with several whoops and a round of applause ringing in their ears.

                            
                  
Chapter Twenty-two                

Mike’s little speech about how I’m all he’d ask for in a woman has caused quite a stir in the restaurant. It changes the dynamic between us a bit, too. Largely due to Jean, Phil and a few of the others declaring that he must have meant it, even if it was subconsciously. I’m of the opinion that I was the first person he spotted whilst looking for an escape route. And besides, I am all he would look for in a woman: financially independent, hard working, don’t nag him and quite happy to spend my days off doing what he enjoys – in other words, trailing around the island, eating somewhere other than the place where we spend most of our time, and drinking copious amounts of wine. What’s not to like? But that does not mean he sees me in the way they mean. I analyse the statement:

‘Lucy is all I want in a woman.’ What? A woman friend – that’s what! I come back to it time and time again. I inform the others that they need to get out more.

Mike notes my slight discomfort over the next few days. I make my excuses for going to bed straight after shifts and take myself off on daytrips around the island on days’ off. I do feel bad, leaving him staring after me, like a hurt bunny. Even if he did fancy me, which of course he doesn’t, he’s a no-go area because he is Becky’s ex. No way would she do that to me. I wouldn’t even consider doing it to her. I feel slightly uncomfortable about the whole situation. I want to make it crystal clear that I am not interested. I love Mike, just not in that way. I’m not actually interested in a relationship, full stop!

Sunday’s busy lunch shift comes around. We are backed up with stock and waiting for a lull in the rush to have time to put it in the fridges. I feel even more awkward than usual today because last night Pablo, Mike, Jean, Phil and a couple of this week’s other regulars had a bit of a lock-in. Jean had dragged me off to the loo and had insisted that it was more obvious than ever that there was something between us. Mike had kissed me on the top of my head, and said how wonderful his life was now because of what we had. Yes, I’d insisted to Jean, what we have. That being, the restaurant, warm weather, all the food we can eat and all the alcohol we can drink. What more could a man want? OK, apart from the obvious. But we aren’t involved like that. Jean shrugs and gives me a smile that says, you’ll see. I’m beginning to get more than a little tired of the speculation.

Anyway, Sunday lunchtime. Mike squeezes past me behind the bar, through the minute space left to work in. He places his hands on my waist to maneuver through. I give a little squeal and promptly spill the pint I am pouring all over the bar. Several customers dash out of the way.

‘What is
wrong
with you?’ Mike asks exasperatedly. ‘Are you due on or something?’

‘No!’ I say, horrified, looking around at the smirking faces of the male punters. ‘But you’ll be due a kick in the knackers if you say anything like that again.’ The men surrounding the bar laugh loudly. I watch as Phil beckons Mike over. He leans over the bar so Phil can whisper into his ear. Mike nods, looks confused, then shakes his head and whispers something back to Phil. Phil whispers some more, this time with hand gestures to emphasise his point. Mike looks shocked, before glancing back over at me as realisation seems to dawn, and makes his way across the bar towards me. I may as well get this out of the way.

‘Look Mike,’ I begin, ‘I don’t think you fancy me, despite what everyone else thinks, and I’m sorry, but I don’t fancy you. I couldn’t anyway because of Becky, even if I did. Which, of course, I already mentioned, I don’t.’ I am aware that I’m babbling, but continue anyway. ‘You

are an extremely good looking bloke and we are very compatible, but if we broke up it would be very awkward around here and… why… why is Phil gurning at me like that?’

‘I dunno.’ Mike throws a glance at Phil. ‘Probably because all he said was he thinks you need a holiday. But thanks for sharing,’ and he walks away.

I cringe. Not to worry, that cleared that little issue up once and for all.

Christmas passes in a blur and no days off. One day blends into the next. No time to feel awkward around Mike, so all is good once again. We barely have enough energy to crawl into our respective beds at the end of an evening.

Our customers are having an absolute ball and we are raking in the cash. There will be plenty of time for rest in the New Year. The downside of the very busy times is that we don’t get to know our customers as well as in the quiet times. Still, they seem to be OK with that. They don’t know any different, as we haven’t been here long enough to have returning custom. So, I don’t feel too bad about it.

Hogmanay comes around again. Hard to believe this time last year we didn’t even know all this was to happen. Mike and Becky, Nick and I had only just met. Such a lot has changed, and then changed again. Still, it has been far from dull.

Mum, Mary and the kids are in a cab from the airport on their way for their Hogmanay holiday. I can’t wait to see them. I rush around wiping imaginary dust from everything and fuss over the menu. Mike laughs at me. The place is immaculate; I cleaned just after the cleaners left. And now I have a whole glorious week off. A loud clatter as the door swings open and hits the wall, accompanied by lots of excited chat, announces the arrival of my family. Josh and Jess immediately begin to investigate their surroundings, pulling on the beer taps and squirming away from my attempts of a hug.

‘This is gorgeous, Lucy,’ my Mum twirls around, smiling broadly at me. ‘Well done you.’

‘Yes, you’re not useless after all,’ says Mary in a surprised tone. Mike walks over to greet them all.

‘Woah!’ Mary looks at me in amazement and whispers, ‘you never told me Mike was fit! Have you… you know… yet?’

‘No!’ I reply, a little too loudly. I manage to attract the attention of Mum, Mike and half of the restaurant. ‘We’re not like that,’ I hiss.

‘You were so busted there,’ she laughs, and walks off to stop Jess from using our curtain as a Tarzan swing. ‘You should though… seriously,’ she throws over her shoulder.

‘Should what?’ enquires Mike, from behind me.

‘Oh… nothing, think you may have a fan, that’s all,’ I reply, a blush creeping up from my neck.     

The plan for this evening is for us all to have dinner and drinks together in the restaurant. Mike will be working with three bar staff and will float between there and kitchen, where another three are on. I’ll be on hand to pull a few pints if necessary, but we should have more than enough cover. We have dinner, the Specials today being my Mum and sister’s favourite meals and the usual kiddy junk food favourites. The karaoke party kicks off and Mary and I murder a few tunes. Several glasses of wine down and I forget that I’m making a complete idiot of myself. Well, I’m off home in a week, who cares? I won’t see any of these people again.

It’s great to be on this side of the bar, looking objectively at our surroundings as a customer. Mike laughs at Mary and me, shaking his head in mock disapproval. Josh and Jess get up and sing Bon Jovi. They share my sister’s 1980s rock music fixation. To their delight, people start to throw Euros onto the stage. My sister mutters something about being entitled to twenty percent for being their agent.

At the end of the evening, after dancing and singing ourselves out, we head off to put the kids to bed. We find Jess, bum in the air, fast asleep on a pile of coats. Jean’s coat is on top, now complete with dribble mark. Josh is enthusiastically throwing some shapes on the dance floor with Mike and has to be carried, yelling all the way upstairs to bed by Mary and I.

‘I’m not even tired,’ Mary sighs and shakes her head as we tuck the kids up in bed. ‘Best night I’ve had in ages. Shame it has to end.’

‘That’s where this comes in handy then,’ I smile and wave a baby monitor at Mary. ‘I bought it specially.’ We kiddy-proof the entire apartment, pulling out every plug socket and securing all the windows, and head back downstairs for a lock-in. Mike has assured Mary that he won’t drink more than a couple, having been flat out all night and only on his first sip of a pint. Mike is a serial insomniac. I regularly hear him creeping around in the night, not in a weird way, just making a hot chocolate at three in the morning kind of thing. I trust him completely with my niece and nephew. Seriously, even in a deep sleep, he’d hear a mouse fart in the next room. Mary relaxes and enjoys the evening, slurring to Mike that she’s going to marry him and drag him off back to Scotland. He leans in to Mary and whispers something. She looks at him in surprise, and laughs uproariously. Good, they’re getting on, I think. I feel a tiny pang; happiness, that’s what it is, and that’s what I want for my sister. She deserves it. I watch them giggle and feel nostalgic for that feeling. Maybe soon it will be down to one from the original crew? Well, I will have Pablo, if he doesn’t love Scotland too much.