Anywhere's Better Than Here (2 page)

‘‘So have you got more deliveries to do?''

‘‘Uh, yeah. It's tea time.''

‘‘Yeah I suppose it is.'' She smiled and waved her naan at him. ‘‘Suppose I'd better eat mine!''

She swung her legs out of the car.

‘‘Thanks.''

‘‘S'alright.''

She still didn't move.

‘‘Are you okay Missus?''

God, Missus? Was she a Missus now? Fuck.

She nodded and climbed out.

‘‘See you around!'' He grinned, turned the music up and sped off.

Laurie watched the car disappear down the street, then turned to the park and having no other plan, went through the gates. What now? She supposed she'd have to go home after the naan. She had nowhere else to go. She didn't know anyone in town anymore and she could hardly pop into her dad's unannounced. She made her way up the hill to a bench which was tucked into a little cave of trees. She unwrapped the naan again, realising she'd eaten nothing since breakfast. It often happened like that. She'd just forget to get anything at lunch time because she was staring out of the window of the office. Today she'd stayed in her seat at the call centre when the rest of her team had gone for lunch. She couldn't be bothered to pretend she cared about what she was wearing to the Christmas party. The Christmas party that she had no intention of going to. They rest of them wouldn't understand. To them it was the social event of the year.

The naan was still quite warm and she tore into it. Ordinarily, she would have been nervous sitting on her own in the dark like this. Every man would look familiar from Crimewatch. She'd be trying to look nonchalant but would be completely tense and on guard. But tonight she felt as if she was invisible. The rain picked up speed and she could hear it glancing off the leaves of the trees above and around her. The noise was soothing, serving to highlight her chosen solitude. She leaned back into the bench with her eyes shut and tried to clear her mind but became aware of what sounded like murmurs and rustles.

She sat up sharply and held her breath.

A man emerged from the bushes to her left and hurried down the hill towards the gates. No sooner had he reached the gate than another man appeared over the brow of the hill, from the opposite direction, hung about for a bit near the bench then ducked into the bushes the first man had come out of. The noise started again. Laurie recognised the rhythm and let out a silent breath.

Moans and zipping noises seemed to be issuing from all the bushes surrounding the bench. She stood up, crumpled the naan wrapper up and jammed it into her coat pocket. She headed back down the hill towards the high street. She wasn't a prude; she was all for same sex marriage; but to be so near to all that outdoor activity … Didn't they have flats? It wasn't like it was illegal anymore. Perhaps the men had partners. Partners who didn't have any suspicions, wives and girlfriends who were just going about their business. Maybe bringing up children, washing their clothes.

Well at least Ed wasn't like that.

He hardly ever left the house.

The rain had slowed now and become a static moistness. She felt like she was walking through the sheerest of cobwebs. If she didn't think of something soon she'd have to go home and face Ed. Would he be phoning around desperately trying to find her?

Unlikely.

She walked down towards town, looking into every shop window to pass the time. As she walked down the High Street she became aware of a knot of young guys approaching her. They took up the pavement entirely, bulging out onto the road. They were shouting and waving beer bottles around. She ducked into a pub on her left. The Weaver's Arms. She'd passed the place by for all the years she'd lived here but had never been inside. Well, tonight was the night it seemed. It would do her good to try something new, have a little adventure.

There were three others in the bar. Two old guys sitting six feet apart against the back wall under a big uncovered strip light and a torn faced barmaid behind the counter, rag in hand. She was so heavily tanned that she looked like one of those bog people that archaeologists seemed to dig up from time to time. Laurie moved over towards a table and realised that she'd need to approach the bar to get a drink. She turned again and walked over to the woman.

‘‘Can I have a pint of lager please?'' The woman looked at her again, moved silently to the taps, poured a pint, placed it in front of Laurie and gave her a long look.

‘‘Two pound,'' the voice was flat, Northern. She held out her hand. Laurie stared at it for a moment, taking in the array of gold rings. Were these remains from the mediaeval times? She could picture the hand, be-ringed and filthy reaching out from the ground to a group of eager young archaeologists. The woman jabbed her hand at Laurie.

‘‘Two pound.''

‘‘Okay. I just have to …'' Laurie had to search her pockets and make up the money in stray change. By the time she looked up again with the money the woman had turned her back and started to rearrange the crisps. Laurie put the two pounds on the counter and made her way back to the booth through the mismatched chairs and tables.

She sat down and took off her coat whilst glancing around. What kind of place was this? It was bereft of any Christmas decorations. The walls were a patchy white and the plaster was crumbling in patches. The floor had two different types of lino that overlapped in some places, causing swells and dips. The barmaid had turned and was now staring at a spot above and to the left of Laurie's head.

The door opened and a heavy set young man in a polo neck walked in and headed straight to the bar.

‘‘Pint, Mags.''

The barmaid grinned at the man.

‘‘How are you tonight, Gerry?'' One of Bog face's eye teeth was missing.

He shrugged, picked up his pint and sat at the table nearest Laurie's with his back to the bar. The transformation in the barmaid was astonishing. She smiled as she scoured her cloth across the bar and one of her shoulder straps had fallen to reveal even more of her preserved skin.

Laurie looked back down from the bar to surreptitiously check out this Gerry.

He was smiling at her.

‘‘How d'you like it?'' He cut through the air with an upturned palm.

‘‘What?'' She smiled. ‘‘The pub or the atmosphere?''

‘‘Oh both, everything.''

She laughed for the first time that day.

‘‘Gerry,'' he reached across to shake her hand.

Laurie glanced up at the bar in time to see the barmaid's face fold shut. Her pique gave Laurie confidence. At least she was a better prospect than that old hag.

‘‘Laurie.'' She smiled. ‘‘Would you like to join me?''

He moved across to her table.

‘‘So what are you doing here?'' He took a big drink of his pint. ‘‘Are you on the run?''

She smiled. Was she? She supposed she was. But how pathetic to be on the run from someone like Ed! ‘‘Sort of.'' She sipped her beer. ‘‘Yourself? Are you escaping something?''

‘‘Cheap beer, snazzy décor, on the way home from work.'' He nodded as he spoke.

‘‘Where is it you work?''

‘‘The hospital.'' He paused then pointed at himself. ‘‘I am a hospital DJ.''

‘‘Really? I've never met anyone who did that. Is it interesting?''

He thought for a moment. ‘‘I'm thinking about leaving actually.'' He smiled brightly at Laurie. ‘‘Anyway, do you want another drink?''

Laurie looked down at her almost full glass.

Gerry smiled. ‘‘Well, how about a nip?''

She shrugged. ‘‘Why not, eh?''

Gerry turned to the bar. Laurie took the opportunity to check him out a bit more. He was taller than Ed, taller than her Dad. Maybe about six footish? Manly. Looked like he could cut things down and carry stuff around. He was wearing a thick dark green wooly jumper which should have looked daggy, but actually just looked warm and practical. His shoulders had that nice straight line to them that some men had. Ed would never have shoulders like that. He'd never be manly like this guy.

‘‘Mags, my darling, two nips and a pint when you have a moment.''

The barmaid narrowed her eyes, no doubt contemplating poisoning either one or both of the drinks.

‘‘So.'' She needed to keep the chat moving. ‘‘Why are you thinking about leaving?''

‘‘It's too heavy.'' He shrugged. ‘‘But I don't trust anyone else to do it.''

‘‘Really? I'm not being funny, but isn't it just playing music?''

‘‘It's not actually as simple as that.'' He looked a bit hurt. ‘‘It's all operations, bad news, dark nights of the soul, that kind of thing.'' He shrugged again.

She thought for a moment. ‘‘But there must be good things too. Babies being born.''

‘‘No, no. They bring their own CDs. It's all Enya and fucking whale song. Hospital radio's mostly for the old folk, the terminally ill.'' He picked at a beer mat and flicked it at the scabby table top. ‘‘I can't stop thinking about how many people have died listening to one of my shows.'' He took a deep breath. ‘‘Listening to tunes that I've picked.'' He dropped the beer mat again and gripped his pint with both hands.

‘‘Oh God, I see what you mean.'' She had never thought about that before and she could feel herself start to get choked up. She hated it when that happened and the feeling of sadness just popped up unbidden.

‘‘It's taking me hours to plan my shows. It's not easy, not easy at all.'' He drained half his pint. ‘‘The thing is: there have been complaints. They want more Abba and less Ennio Morricone.'' He seemed baffled.

Laurie laughed, the feeling gone again. ‘‘I suppose nobody wants to be challenged at that point, do they?''

Gerry laughed too. ‘‘I suppose so. You're not really looking to grow your musical repertoire at the end, are you?''

Mags arrived at the table with the fresh drinks. She ignored Gerry and stared again at Laurie.

‘‘Thanks Mags,'' she smiled up as she spoke. The older woman snorted and turned back to the bar.

‘‘Cheers!'' she called out to the retreating back. ‘‘She likes you, doesn't she?'' Laurie felt a twinge of jealousy. Ridiculous – she didn't even know this man.

They knocked back the whisky. Laurie's eyes watered and she had to stop herself from gagging. She took a big slug of her beer to wash the taste away.

They sat in silence and concentrated on finishing off the beer. Now she was feeling giddy and enthusiastic. She knew she was staring at Gerry's face – at his pale eyes and his nice, straight teeth. She wanted to stroke her hand down his jumper and wind her fingers in his thick, dark hair. She was getting carried away. She drained the last of her drink and stood up abruptly.

‘‘I've got to go, Gerry.''

‘‘Really, so soon?'' He looked anxious and put out his hand. ‘‘ Let's go somewhere else.'' He started to stand up.

She frowned down at him as he tried to untangle his coat from one of the legs of his chair.

‘‘Come on,'' he said. Whether at her or the difficult coat, she couldn't tell. The coat tugged free. She was starting to feel more than a little foolish. What was she doing? She could see where this might go but she just couldn't be bothered.

‘‘Look, Gerry, I have to go home.''

‘‘Will your mum be wondering where you are?'' His eyes were kind and clever and he was staring at her. She felt she was being looked at properly for the first time.

She swallowed.‘‘Something like that.'' The problem now, of course, was that she had no idea where she was going. No money, no friends, no transport. She sat down again. If Gerry was surprised by this, he didn't show it.

‘‘Pint?'' He pointed to the bar.

‘‘Yes please. But I'm afraid I'll have to owe you. I seem to have run out of money.''

‘‘That's absolutely fine. I like it when women owe me.''

He waved a tenner around as he said this and pretended to twiddle a moustache but he looked awkward. Possibly he wasn't expecting Laurie to do anything in return, but she knew there had to be some method of exchange. She remembered the guys in the bushes.

She wasn't that naïve.

‘‘So what do you want to do?'' He spread his arms out in front of him, palms up. ‘‘Dancing? Cocktails?''

She sighed. ‘‘Drink, mostly.''

‘‘It's not something I'd normally do, but Goddamn it, I'll try anything once.'' He shook the tenner at the barmaid. ‘‘Two pints of your finest ale, M'lady.''

Mags wasn't happy but moved to the pumps.

‘‘Now what's going on here?'' He made a serious face at her. ‘‘Who are you really on the run from?''

‘‘God, it's too boring to go into.'' She sighed. ‘‘Better just to drink, Gerry.''

‘‘Really? Do you want to talk about it?''

‘‘No. I definitely do not want to talk about it.'' She made inverted commas around the word ‘‘it''. She didn't know why. It made Gerry laugh.

‘‘You're a one-off aren't you?''

‘‘Some might say just as fucking well, eh?'' They both laughed again in that silly, helpless way that people do when they're settling in to proper drinking.

‘‘Gerry,'' Mag's voice made Laurie's temples throb. Gerry got up and went to the bar for the pints. No table service now. Laurie resisted the temptation to lay her head down on the table.

‘‘Enjoy.'' Gerry smiled at her, placing her pint in front of her.

***

They left the bar some time later. Gerry had offered to walk her home. She could feel him holding himself deliberately straighter. Was this the kind of situation where he needed to act sober even though they both knew how much they'd had to drink? Laurie led the way back to the flat. She walked at the edge of the pavement, balancing as she tried not to break into a run. She moved in a little but this brought her too close to Gerry and the other pedestrians. Mostly drunken teenagers, they were oblivious to anyone else. The girls were underdressed and sparkly in strapless tops and short skirts. Their legs were bare and shone under the street lamps. Laurie imagined herself as one of them. Out in a pack focussed on sugary drinks and grabby boys. The thought sickened her. She'd left all that behind her, thank God.