‘Oh my God!’ I call out, pointing to the window. ‘The sheep are out.’
‘Ah they do that, lad. Don’t worry about them; they’ll find their way back.’ A kind-looking older gent I have yet to be introduced to speaks up from the corner as he, and the rest of the regulars, don’t take their eyes from me. ‘Little bastards they are for that.’
Anywhere else I’m sure the exclamation of sheep on the loose would at least turn a few heads, if not send a few others running, but clearly not here. I must try a different tack. Thinking quickly, I point again to the window. ‘Dad?!’ I say loudly enough for them to hear and without fail every single pair of eyes snaps in the direction of myfinger, whilst Barbara runs to the window, throwing half her G&T over Bill in the kerfuffle.
Taking advantage of the distraction, I rush to the barmaid, though she too has fallen for my ploy and I have to wave a hand in front of her face before she even acknowledges me.
‘Beatrice,’ I say a little firmer and her face falls ever so slightly. ‘Jimmy,’ I say, gesturing to where I left him. Horror hits her and she slaps her hands across her mouth.
‘Oh my God,’ she stammers, eye wide, brows sloped, ‘is he okay?’ Her voice is an urgent whisper.
‘I’m dealing with it,’ I assure her. ‘Just cut out all the snorting and cackling, would you?’
Beatrice glances at me from her peripheral. ‘I don’t snort,’ she grumbles. Then adds softly, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right, just don’t look at my bum on the way out.’ I wink at her, trying to alleviate some of the guilt that sits so heavily on her expression. ‘Ah,’ I announce to the rest of the pub, ‘I think it was just a car that looked like his.’ An array of sighs and huffs greet me in reply, but Beatrice smiles.
‘No promises.’ Her voice reaches me as I push open the front door and the cold air hits my bare legs in a way rather reminiscent of the night before, and I’m not sure if it’s her words or the memory that draws a smile from me but I’m glad it’s hidden by the cover of the night.
‘Right, you lot.’ Her speech is muffled as the oak swings closed behind me. ‘Change of plan, it’s chucking-out time. Don’t give me that look, Scott. It’s a Saturday night; I’m sure there’s an ITV drama with Sheridan Smith in that youcan watch with your wife or something. I know your wife hates you. I never said you had to talk to her, but either way that’s not my problem tonight, I’m afraid.’
Tugging my farm overalls back on, I laugh at her candour, whilst also thanking my lucky stars that I’m not on the receiving end of her orders. Soon enough, bodies spill out of the pub; one bloated man, who I assume is Scott, takes his pint, glass and all, with him as they all disperse down the street.
Returning inside, now fully clothed, and a little on edge that Tracy may return and catch me in my dirty farm gear, I find Beatrice whizzing around the room collecting half-empty glasses. When she sees me, she thrusts her hoard onto the closest table and offers me her full attention. ‘Is he okay?’ she asks in a loud whisper, clutching my forearm. ‘Is he hurt?’
‘He’ll be fine. I’ve got it all sorted. Don’t worry, he’s not hurt.’ Her face is twisted in a look of vulnerability that I’ve not once seen in her these few days of knowing her. She cares, deeply; that’s evident.
‘Thank you.’ Beatrice releases a quiet breath and returns to her glasses. ‘I’ll just get this place closed down and then I’ll take him home.’
‘Eddie?’ Jimmy’s voice greets me as soon as I open the bathroom door. ‘Is that you?’
‘Sure is,’ I reply with a smile and he sighs in relief. ‘Beatrice cleared the pub so no one will get to see you in your new outfit.’
‘Can you just …’ He gestures to the zip and smiles at me sadly. ‘Please?’
Soon, Jimmy is confident and decent enough to follow me out of the cramped loos.
‘All right, Jim?’ Beatrice’s look of concern is replaced by her friendly barmaid façade. ‘Shall we get you home? I am on my bike, I’m afraid, so unless you fancy a croggy, walking it is.’
‘Aye, that’s fine by me, duck.’ Jim smiles the first proper smile since his accident. I suppose Beatrice can be warm and charming. Who knew? ‘Cerys is going to lock up behind us, so you can head on back to your gran’s if you like.’ She addresses me, then walks out of the door, chatting away, the tiredness still heavy in her eyes though she hides it well.
Jogging to catch up, I follow them down the road, until the pavement melts away and I soon find myself trudging up and over the potholes of the road.
‘Where are you going?’ Beatrice turns back to me, brows furrowed, when she notices my presence.
‘With you.’
‘It’s okay, I can manage alone,’ she insists. But the empty countryside is so thick with darkness that I can only just see the strands of her hair as they catch the light of the moon every other step.
‘I want to come,’ I say, still trailing behind them. ‘Plus, this is still technically my second day here and I don’t exactly know my way “home”.’
Without an excuse or a comeback, Beatrice is forced to let me join her, and we, plus Jimmy, walk wordlessly through the silent streets of New York.
Chapter 12
Beatrice
I’m not paid to babysit him after working hours. There is no way that I’ve had enough sleep to deal with this much Artie Cavendish in one day and now walking with him in the pitch-dark and thinking only of the tender turn he seems to have taken in the last hour is unsettling to me. What is the reason for this sudden personality transplant? Yesterday he was debating my appearance with his mate, eight hours ago he stormed off in a paddy about having to work, and now … he’s caring about Jimmy and walking us both home?
