Authors: Kirsty Greenwood
I take a bite of the tart and munch away, conscious that Riley is watching me.
I taste the sweet, slightly blackened cherry tomatoes, nicely softened, and the salty, chewy mozzarella, and ick, far too much black pepper. What is it with men and black pepper?
“
Hmmm,
”
I nod politely, still chewing.
“
S’okay.
”
He leans down, moving his face closer to mine, challenging.
“
Just okay? Come on Natalie Elspeth Butterworth. What do you
really
think?
”
Why do people ask so many questions? I didn’t notice until today how many people ask questions. Crapbags. Here we go. I look straight into his dark, silvery eyes, the urge to answer fizzing right through me.
I feel my face go hot as I tell the truth.
“
What I really think is this; I
really
think that they’re bland. All that pepper isn’t going to stop them from being bland. I mean, you could have added some chilli, or, ooh some plump black olives would have been nice. Your pastry is terrible. It shouldn’t hurt my teeth when I chew it. And tomato and mozzarella
-
hello? Hardly going to set the world alight with originality, is it?! I don’t think Heston’s got anything to worry about. I’d stick to bar-tending, mate.
”
I pause to take a breath. Why am I so horrible when I’m honest? Is this who I really am? Have I been faking being a good person all this time? My cheeks burn. I notice that the crowd has gone quiet. Honey, the gauche barmaid hurries over, puts her skinny, lacy shirt encased arm on Riley’s shoulder and shoots me a dirty look. Meg puts her head in her hands.
Oops.
The look on Riley’s face is a peculiar mix of irritation and amusement. Jeez. He must think I’m the rudest, scruffiest, meanest person he’s ever met. I don’t even know him and I’ve just slagged off his tart. Which he made. And gave out
for free
.
“
I’m so, so sorry!
”
I exclaim, my heart beating rapidly with horror and shame.
“
I didn’t
-
”
“
Who
are
you?
”
Riley asks hands on hips, a look of suspicion darkening his features.
“
Are you from Hobbs? Did that bastard Jasper send you to scare us off? Cos’ it won’t work. We’re staying here.
”
“
I'm Natalie Elspeth Butterworth, aged twenty-seven and a bit.
”
Oh man.
“
I’m not from Hobbs. Though I am a huuuuuge fan of their bread.
”
I pat my tummy.
“
T
heir oven bottom muffins are T
o
.
D
ie
.
F
or. The only Jasper I know is Jasper Ian Parker who I snogged behind the stage curtain during our high school production of
Bugsy Malone
…
”
I can’t relax until I’ve gotten all the answers out. It’s like I’ve got OCD and Tourette's all at the same time. I will myself to shut up.
Shut up, Natalie! For the love of a
ll that is good and great. Just
stop!
“
… so then he tried to feel my left boob and I kicked him in the shin and he told the entire school I was frigid. It was hideous. I haven’t seen him for over ten years, so I don’t think he’s the Jasper you’re referring to…
”
Meg hurries over.
“
She can’t help it. She’s been hypnotised!
”
“
Hypnotised?
”
asks Riley, looking at us and rubbing his eyes like we’re a really weird figment of his imagination.
“
Oh really. Hypnotised how? Hypnotised to insult complete strangers?
”
His face is all frowny and full of indignation.
“
No…
”
I explain.
“
Just…
telling the truth. I can’t help but tell the truth.
”
The parishioners are still chewing on their tarts, eyes wide in astonishment at my unwelcome outburst as a cut-throat culinary critic.
“
You should bar her,
”
cheeps Honey, twirling her deep red hair around her finger.
“
She can’t speak to you like that. I think the tarts are just utterly incredible.
”
“
You’re right,
”
I mutter.
“
We should leave. I’m so sorry, everyone.
”
“
But, I can’t drive,
”
Meg hisses.
“
I’ve had too much to drink. I thought we might, you know, stay and wait for Brian?
”
She looks over at Robbie coquettishly. He waves back, his dark eyes sparkling with disbelief.
“
Fine. I’ll ring Olly again, maybe he’ll pick me up, or Dionne might, for twenty quid.
”
I grab my phone and slink off through the pub. The crowd of people stare after me; the strange girl with terrible hair, who turned up in their village, fell down a hill, got pissed, told them that their reclusive OAP neighbour had spellbound her and insulted the owner of their local pub.
Just as I reach the door, Meg trailing loyally behind me, somebody calls out
.
“
Wait!
”
I turn around to see Alan, the ruddy faced, flat-capped man from before.
“
You’re not barred,
”
he says, with a pointed glance at Honey.
“
For whatever reason, you came here to find Brian Fernando
-
”
“
Brian is called Brian Fernando?
”
Meg nudges me and stifles a snort.
“
It’s obviously important to you,
”
he continues, looking serious.
“
And we like to think of ourselves as good, kind people here in Little Trooley. So we’ll help. Those roads are far too icy to be travelling on now. Tonight you’ll stay here.
”
“
Here?
”
“
There’re a couple of rooms to rent upstairs. I’m sure my nephew wouldn’t mind putting you up.
”
Riley grimaces but doesn’t say anything.
“
I’m not sure,
”
I sigh, my voice wobbling.
“
Everything’s a mess, and I’ve insulted you, and now you’re being kind and
-
”
I swallow my tears. I’ve done enough bloody crying today.
“
Please, let’s stay,
”
Meg whispers, eyeing Robbie up drunkenly.
“
Please, please, pleeeease. Brian might be back in the morning.
”
“
Maybe…
”
“
There is one condition, however,
”
Alan says sternly.
“
Oh. What’s the condition?
”
“
You get yourself a stiff drink and you tell us this whole bloody story from start to finish.
”
I fight a yawn, suddenly exhausted from all the drama and the alcohol and the ever present worry that I might not be able to fix this.
“
Okay then,
”
I sniff, going back to the bar and slouching onto a high seat. Everyone’s eyes are on me, eager to hear about my strange, shitty day.
I settle myself in and look around at the faces of the attentive crowd.
“
Well,
”
I begin.
“
The whole ridiculous affair started just last night…
”
“
And that’s how I ended up here,
”
I finish.
“
Getting really rather drunk!
”
I drain the last of my whisky, slam the shot glass onto the bar and nod for Honey to bring me another. She scowls, but I’m too drunk to care.
The locals, who until now have been listening quietly, start to talk all at once.
“
That doesn’t seem like Brian, he’s such a quiet old thing! Are you absolutely sure it was him?
”
“
What a ghastly day, you poor lass.
”
“
That’s incredible. We could get you on Oprah, or Graham Norton, or something!
”
“
So, Natalie, if I ask you a question you can only tell the truth? Right, well, do you like my new corduroy trousers?
”
“
Olly sounds lovely. He has to forgive you!
”
“
And what about my haircut? Is it too short? Oh, I’ve got one. What’s your favourite flavour of crisps?
”
“
Why don’t you googlymajig ‘how to unhypnotise yourself’?
”
Instantly I find my brain weeding out questions from the crowd, and answering them as quickly as possible, much to everyone’s delight and disbelief.
Alan shushes them down. It
is
pretty overwhelming.
“
Thank you for being honest with us,
”
he says kindly.
“
So you’ll help me sort this out?
”
I hiccup, taking a sip from my drink.
“
You believe me?
”
“
I believe you, love.
”
He pats my shoulder.
“
I believe you too!
”
“
So do I!
”
“
It’s too darn odd to be a lie.
”
“
I’ll help you. I used to be on the radio.
”
“
A drunken man’s word is a sober man’s word, I always say.
”
“
That’s not the saying, Wonky Faced Joe. Who are you, George Bush?
”
As the crowd chatter away, thinking of ways to help me I get a lovely warm feeling all through my body, like a Ready Brek glow. It could be the whisky, but I’m pretty sure that it’s the fact that after the worst day ever, all these people are being nice to me, ready and willing to help out an absolute stranger. It’s so heartening.
Fuelled with a sudden sense of well-being, I scan the room for Riley so I can apologise once more, and thank him for attending to my knees. He’s nowhere around. Instead I spot Meg, leant up against a quiz machine, drunkenly and enthusiastically snogging Robbie who looks like all his Christmases have come at once. A couple of his mates eye the pair of them with astonishment and envy.
“
Do you play football, Bobby?
”
I hear her shout over the music.
“
It’s Robbie. Robbie is my name!
”
“
That’s what I said!
”
she giggles and pulls him back to her.
I resist the temptation to drag her away. I know she’ll probably regret this in the morning. But…
she needs a little fun. He might not be the rich footballer she puts so much sway on snaring, but he seems nice, and it’s only one night. And after we find Brian, it’s not like we’ll see these people again, anyway.
With that thought in mind, I tip back the remainder of my whisky. As it burns my throat, and sends a wonderful sizzle straight to my belly I come to the to the conclusion that the best way to deal with everything that has happened today is to get so completely drunk that I no longer care. My status as a light-weight means it shouldn’t take too long. There’s nothing I can do right now, so what’s the point in trying?
“
Sod it all!
”
I yell to the crowd.
“
Sambuca's are on me!
”
A cheer goes up around the pub. And soon enough, all the worries about Olly, Brian, the wedding and my lack of brain control hazily fade away.
TEXT FROM: DIONNE
UR not answering ur fone. Don’t forget babysitting John-Paul Gaultier 2morrow.
TEXT FROM: DIONNE
Hve picked a cake 4u. it is amazing. It’s an exact replica of a sleeping swan. Call back.