The Friends We Keep(9)

“I’m hardly the beautiful one,” Evvie had pointed out. “It’s you.” Maggie was who she would like to look like if she came back in another life. But Maggie had simply snorted, so used to having been called Pippi Longstocking for most of her life, she was entirely unaware of the beauty that was emerging.

But Evvie was beautiful, too, with her café au lait skin and perfect pout, her almond-shaped blue eyes—the Hamilton gene—startling in that face. When Evvie had asked Topher his type, he just shrugged and said he didn’t have one, or if he did, he hadn’t figured it out yet. Maggie had given Evvie a knowing look.

And so it was agreed, Topher would join the girls’ hall of residence pub crawl, starting at the King’s Head that evening at eight.

“What the hell are we supposed to go as tonight?” asked Evvie. “I hate costume things. So much pressure.”

“Whatever it is,” Topher mused, “we’d better decide quickly. We have about three hours to get to the thrift shop to put some costumes together.”

“What are you going as?” Evvie asked him.

“I’m going to be a drunk. I bought three cans of mushy peas to pour down my shirt.”

Maggie yelped with laughter. “What can I do?”

“Is there anything you hate eating?”

She paused, thinking. “I hate Marmite.”

“It’s a bit lame but we could make a big Marmite label for you.”

“I’ve got it!” said Evvie. “I need pillowcases and black dye. I’m going as a pregnant nun.”



* * *



? ? ?

The pub was packed, all the girls from Jekyll Hall and all the boys from their neighboring Coleridge Hall jammed into all three rooms in bad-taste costumes ranging from boys in suits dressed as real estate agents to a couple of pedophiles complete with greasy side parts, fake mustaches, and bags of lollipops.

Everyone was drinking pints of snakebite—lager and hard cider, sometimes with a drop of Ribena—or shots of tequila and vodka. Everyone was chattering, eyeing up the opposite sex, flirting, and getting ready for the next eight pubs. Not all would make it. Some would stagger back to their dorms, others would throw up in the street, others still would collapse in shop doorways. A handful would leave partway through, bored by the drunken behavior, and make their way back to their dorms, where they would drink tea with friends and wonder if they’d made a terrible mistake in choosing West Country when they could have gone to Manchester, Edinburgh, or Durham.

Evvie shouldered her way through the crowds standing in front of the bar. She was almost five feet ten inches in bare feet, and with heels, as she wore today (although why she chose to wear heels for a pub crawl, she would never know), she was over six feet. She liked being tall when she was slim. When she was heavy, she hated it, felt like an Amazon. But despite her jeans getting tighter, she was still feeling good as she squeezed her way through the crowds. She caught the eye of the man behind the bar and held it as she stepped toward him, proffering a five-pound note.

“Three shots of tequila please.” She smiled at him, expecting him to smile back, but he scowled as he gave the faintest of nods.

“Busy here tonight, isn’t it,” she said, attempting conversation as he poured the drinks, but he didn’t say anything.

“It looks like you could do with an extra bartender,” she said, realizing that this might be the perfect job for her, the way for her to keep up with Maggie and Topher, and there was no shame in getting a job in the best pub in town. She could also, surely, keep her friends in free drinks.

The man gestured to the other room. “If you want a job, speak to Steve. He’s in there.”

Evvie took the drinks and gave him the money, holding her hand out for change. Usually, she would have slipped the bartender a thank-you, but not this time.

“A smile really wouldn’t hurt,” she said, keeping her voice light as she put the change in her pocket and gathered the glasses. “Have a great day.”





five


- 1986 -



I can’t stand him,” said Evvie, carefully applying eyeliner as she got ready to go to her shift at the King’s Head. “I don’t know what I’ve done to him but he’s just awful to me.”

“I think he’s sexy.” Maggie grinned, pausing from singing the lyrics to a Prefab Sprout song on the cassette player.

Evvie whirled around. “You’re kidding, right?”

Maggie winced. “I’m sorry. I’m happy to slightly hate him on your behalf because he’s not very nice to you, but I think he’s really sexy.”

Evvie shook her head. “Oh my God. We are talking about Evil Ben, right? The most evil bartender ever? The guy who basically spends his life scowling?”

“I’ve seen him smile and it’s adorable. He has these dimples that come out, and he looks like a completely different person when he smiles. I bet he’s really nice when you get to know him.”

“Smile? He smiles? When have you seen him smile? Oh, that’s right. When he’s not talking to me.” Evvie sighed. “It’s just me then, isn’t it? He truly hates me. He’s smiley with you, and he hates me. Great.”

“He wasn’t smiley with me. I’m much too scared to talk to him. I saw him with a bunch of professors, and he was smiley with them. I think he probably just hates all the freshers. And honestly, can you blame him?”