A Keeper(24)

‘Teddy boy,’ the barman called in greeting and stepped back from the counter, ready to serve.

‘Andy. You’re well?’

‘I am. Bad enough old night.’

‘It is. It is.’

‘What can I get you?’

Patricia felt four pairs of eyes staring at her. She rarely, if ever, went into pubs, even the ones that boasted a lounge bar, and she certainly had no idea what to drink. She felt a small seed of panic beginning to grow.

‘A pint of Murphy’s,’ Edward ordered and then looked back at Patricia. Her eyes darted around the bar. She tried to remember the names of drinks. ‘I’ll have a …’ she said, trying to give off the air of a woman deciding which of the many drinks she enjoyed she would be choosing this evening. Just then she noticed the poster behind the bar with the little deer. The advertisement was on television. ‘A Babycham please!’

Edward looked at her a little uncertainly. ‘And a Babycham please.’

The barman looked behind his head at the picture of the small deer dancing on stars. ‘A Babycham, is it? Well, I’ll have a look.’

Patricia heard the old men chuckling and muttering the word ‘Babycham’. She felt suddenly indignant. The poster was on the wall and they talked about it on TV. It wasn’t as if she had ordered a cup of tea, which was in fact what she would have preferred.

Edward led Patricia to the low tables and pulling one of them away from the seating, invited her to sit down. As she sat her weight forced some air out of a hole somewhere in the vinyl. A long high-pitched farting sound filled the room. Edward pretended not to have heard it but the two old boys at the bar were shaking so hard it seemed likely one or both of them would fall off their stools. Patricia smoothed out her skirt.

The barman reappeared and plonked on the table a small bottle and glass that bore the Babycham logo.

‘For the lady.’

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

‘The Murphy’s will be a minute.’

‘Grand. Grand. Take your time.’

Left alone, the silence of the bar seemed to engulf them. Somewhere a clock was ticking.

‘Don’t wait,’ Edward said, indicating the bottle on the table before her.

‘Thanks,’ she said, pouring the fizzing liquid into the glass. ‘I’ve never actually tasted this stuff,’ she confessed. ‘I panicked!’ She giggled and he gave her an easy smile that once more made her glad to be there with him.

‘And a pint.’ The barman placed the drink in front of Edward.

Bringing it up to his lips he said ‘Sláinte’ to no one in particular.

Picking up her Babycham, Patricia echoed him. ‘Sláinte!’ She dared to hope this might turn out to be fun. They both took a sip and smiled at each other.

‘Nice?’ he asked.

‘Sweet. It’s good though,’ she assured him.

Edward took another sip of his pint and looked around the bar. Patricia could feel them slipping back into silence. What did people on dates talk about? What could all those half-wit girls from school think of to say to men that she couldn’t? A piece of turf shifted in the hearth.

Abandoned on the banquette next to her, Patricia spotted a copy of Titbits magazine. She was vaguely aware that it wasn’t the sort of publication you should admit to looking at but Rosemary often brought her a copy from the salon and they enjoyed reading each other their horoscopes. Hoping that it might restart their conversation she picked up the magazine and held it out to Edward.

‘Read me out my horoscope!’

‘What?’ He looked confused.

‘My star sign. See what it says.’ She felt slightly flirtatious. Maybe there would be a mention of a new romance.

‘Sure, you can read it yourself there, can’t you?’

‘It’s more fun if you read it and then I read out yours.’ These were the simple rules that served herself and Rosemary well. She fanned the magazine in front of him temptingly.

Behind them, the barman had begun putting out beer mats on the other tables.

‘Ah, don’t be teasing Teddy.’

Patricia wasn’t sure what he had said.

‘Sorry? What?’

‘Reading wouldn’t be Teddy’s thing.’

Edward’s face had turned the colour of blood and he glared at the floor.

Patricia looked at him and then back at the smirking face of the barman.

‘Edward, what does he mean?’ Her voice was low, the question almost hissed.

‘Sure, Teddy here can’t read and write, can you, Teddy?’ the barman laughed and slapped Edward’s back. An echo of laughter came from the old men across the room.

Edward jerked his head towards the barman and snapped, ‘Just leave us be. We’re having a drink.’

‘Sorry I spoke.’ The barman gave an exaggerated look of apology and sauntered back towards the bar.

Patricia was frozen. Questions filled her head like small birds trapped in a net. Edward was holding onto the edge of the table and breathing heavily. She daren’t look at him. Finally she spoke.

‘Is it true?’

The question hung in the air. It was agony and made worse because they both understood that this was the final moment before they would both have to face the truth. Edward swallowed hard.