Дэвид Муди - Strangers

With nothing else to do, the bar of the pub seemed the only option. He parked on the road outside the scruffy-looking building (damn place didn’t even have a bloody car park) and locked the car. He stood outside for a few moments, listening to the silence. Ah, maybe he was just in a bad mood after the ruckus back at the house. There was a lot to be said for the peace and quiet. There was no other traffic, hardly any other noise at all, in fact. The pub wasn’t far from the station and he remembered thinking the clattering of the railway would probably keep him awake all night. As it was, he couldn’t recall hearing even a single train since he’d arrived. Thussock was too quiet, if anything. He was almost relieved when he saw two helicopters crawling across the sky in the distance, taillights blinking, almost in unison. And far away he heard the low rumble of a truck, airbrakes hissing. Life goes on elsewhere…

There were only two other drinkers in the bar tonight, a couple of men in their late fifties, both reading newspapers, sitting right next to each other but barely speaking. They acknowledged him, but that was the extent of the interaction. The landlord kept himself busy, dividing his time between the bar and the TV Jeremy could hear blaring in one of the backrooms. The noise was muffled, but he could tell it was some kind of comedy programme. Every so often the volume would swell with the laughter track, the noise sounding out of place.

It was so bad he nipped upstairs and fetched himself a book to read as he drank his pint. It was that or paperwork, and no matter how bad it got, he decided, there was no way he was resorting to doing office work in a pub at this time of night. His dedication to the company, whilst strong enough to keep him travelling all these years and intense enough to have been the cause of many of the rifts between him and his ex-wife, still had limits.

At least the beer was good. Thussock’s own, no less, produced less than half a mile down the road. Ever the optimist, Jeremy was glad he’d found something positive to take with him from his time here. He’d try and pick up a crate or two before leaving. What happened at the house is getting you down , he told himself as he finished his first pint and got up for another. Things aren’t that bad . What other reason could there have been? Was it a local curse or something equally ridiculous? Was this one of those bizarre isolated communities you saw in horror movies? Abandon hope, all ye who enter Thussock…

The second pint went down even better than the first. The drink was going straight to his head, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He’d needed a drink all evening, all day if he was honest. He didn’t let them see, but he found being with Tammy and Phoebe almost as hard as being away from them. He hated leaving them more than anything. If I had my time again , he said to himself, sounding like an old man on his death bed, I’d never have let things get as bad as they did . He reminded himself that it hadn’t all been his fault. He and Michelle had grown apart naturally, their individual priorities and desires slowly changing the longer they were together. In the end their marriage had become a passion-free arrangement of convenience. He’d told her repeatedly that he’d done all the hours and all the travelling for her and the girls, of course, but he’d been blind to what they’d actually needed from him. The status quo at home had continued for longer than it should have. When it became clear that their close proximity but lack of interaction was having a negative effect on the girls, they’d separated then divorced soon after. No hard feelings. Regular and informal access. The best of a bad situation.

Third pint before closing time. That was what he needed. He got up again and checked his change, deciding that if there really was a curse of Thussock, he’d been well and truly blighted today. The other two drinkers had disappeared, though he couldn’t remember them going. The TV in the other room was still blaring. It sounded like a war movie now, all guns and noise and stirring music. Whatever it was, it seemed to be holding the landlord’s rapt attention. Watching the film was clearly more appealing than coming back and serving his one remaining customer. Either that or he’d fallen asleep in front of the box. Jeremy rapped the edge of a coin on the bar several times and coughed loudly, but his noise wasn’t having any effect. He doubted anyone could hear him.

There was a girl standing next to him. Where the hell had she come from? He physically jumped and swore with the sudden surprise, then immediately apologised. ‘Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, her voice quiet, little more than a mumble.

‘I think he’s nodded off in there,’ Jeremy said, his composure returning, gesturing in the direction of the TV noise. ‘If he’s not back in the next two minutes, I’m just going to help myself.’ He was half joking, but he thought he would if he had to. They could just add it to his room tab.

The girl didn’t move. She was just standing there, leaning against the bar, looking at her own reflection in the mirror behind the row of optics. Jeremy tried not to stare but he couldn’t help studying her face. She was very young and attractive, her skin pale against the vivid purple of her jacket. He noticed that her legs were bare. She was either wearing the shortest of skirts or nothing at all below the waist. He looked at her face in the mirrors again, caught her looking back at him. Her lips were full and red, inviting… he stopped himself. What the hell did they put in that beer? He made himself look elsewhere and rapped the coin on the bar again. Bloody hell , he thought, get a grip… you’re old enough to be her father .

‘Can you help me?’ she asked, and there was something about her light, breathless voice which cut straight through him. He felt an immediate concern for her, an inordinate need to protect.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m really cold.’

He turned to look at her, taking a couple of subtle, shuffling steps back to increase his distance and not give the wrong impression. She did look cold. She was shivering, but that was hardly surprising given her lack of clothing. He felt uneasy, not knowing what would be worse: helping this girl and risking being accused of being a pervert, or leaving her shivering. Sod it. Look at her. Poor kid’s freezing .

Jeremy fetched his own coat from where he’d left it on the bench behind the table where he’d been sitting. He offered it to her, then carefully draped it over her shoulders, not wanting to make too much contact for fear of her – or anyone else, for that matter – getting the wrong impression. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and she laid a hand on his and smiled the briefest of smiles.

‘Do you want a drink?’ Jeremy asked, hearing himself say things he knew he shouldn’t. ‘I could get you a tea or coffee if you’d rather? Warm you up? I’ll go to the kitchen and make it myself if no one comes to serve me in the next thirty seconds. This is a joke. It this what it’s always like here?’

He was rambling. Nervous. Excited.

She chewed her bottom lip and nodded.

‘You’re funny.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I like you.’

‘Thanks again.’

‘I’m still really cold.’

She was watching him intently now. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and when she moved he caught a glimpse of the rounded cheeks of her bare backside. He felt himself getting hard. Christ, he felt his heart burning for this kid now. He knew it was wrong on every conceivable level, but he wanted her so suddenly and so desperately… A comfort fuck with no strings – that’d do him the world of good tonight. She looked to be a similar age to Tammy, a little older, perhaps, and clinging onto that thought gave him a few brief seconds of clarity. But she smiled at him again and the burning – the wanting – returned, even stronger than before.