Read Online Serve Cool by Lauren Davies - Free Book Online Page B

doctor this mornin’ like before I came to the pub which was fuc —’
    ‘Not open yet.’
    ‘Aye. A bloody wuman the doctor was that I saw. Anyway,I meybe auld but I’m not sexualist ye kna. I divny give a monkey’s what the bastard is as long as they kna what to do when they get us like.’
    I nodded enthusiastically as his eyes held mine.
    ‘D’ye kna what she tell’t us?’
    ‘No Vinny, what was that?’ I cleared my throat and tried to relax.
    ‘She says, “Vinny, you’re as fit as a lion.” I says, “Piss off man, woman, man, I’m fit to drop.” ’
    I laughed nervously.
    ‘Straits that’s what I tell’t her. Aye they’re ganna make me suffer before I go I tell’t ya.’
    At this point, Denise and Derek finished another argument and decided to join us. We made a peculiar foursome. Auld Vinny, a wrinkled old seaman, with skin like a crocodile handbag, Denise, whose ‘wide load’ frame was squeezed into stilettos and ski-pants, Derek her husband, whose idea of heaven was three pints before breakfast and daily re-runs of
Auf Wiedersehen Pet,
and me. I listened to them talking, tried to nod and laugh at appropriate moments, but rarely added anything myself. I felt as out of place as an over-sized tunic in Anneka Rice’s wardrobe, totally surrounded by jumpsuits and unable to relate to a single one of them. I was sure they were hardly aware of my existence, unlike Maz who held court when she was on duty. The whole scenario was light years away from my none-too-distant previous life and I wasn’t sure how to adjust. I must admit, though, I was beginning to find them strangely entertaining.
    ‘How much d’ya get a week, Vinny?’ asked Derek through a mouthful of pork scratchings. The conversationhad somehow jumped from coronary thrombosis, haemorrhoids and bed baths to economics.
    ‘Aye Vinny tell’t us how much ya get,’ shouted Denise, hitching up her knickers above her ski pants.
    ‘I get sixty-seven pount a week al done.’
    ‘Howay man, Vinny,’ Denise interjected, ‘you should be well off, man. I get aboot thirty-five pount a week and that’s my lot. You should be livin’ in a f’kin’ palace, Vinny man.’
    Vinny did reply but my attention was diverted by the sound of ‘The Shoe’ pulling up outside. ‘Thank you God.’ Maz was back. I glanced at the clock – 1:30 p.m. I heard the back gate open and close and waited with bated breath for my friend to appear. I had survived.
    ‘Where the
bollocks
have you been?’ Vinny shouted as Maz strode up to the bar from the back entrance. ‘Left us with a bleedin’ southerner you did.’
    ‘Howay y’auld git. She’s my best friend so shut yer flippin’ mouth.’ She laughed loudly and knocked Vinny’s hat off.
    Everyone laughed and I felt a twinge of jealousy.
Like me too. Like me too.
I almost started to sulk but then I remembered Maz’s audition. As she gabbled away with her regulars, keeping them in hysterics, I thought I detected a slight watery look in her eyes but I couldn’t be certain. Anyway, Maz never cried, it wasn’t her style. She was ‘tough as auld boots’, as she herself often said.
    ‘Aye Vinny man. It’s yer birthday tomorra, isn’t it?’ said Maz as she opened a bag of scampi fries and shoveled half of them into her mouth.
    ‘Aye it is, bloody birthdays. I’m sick of the swine, they shouldn’t be allowed.’
    ‘Well, Jen here and I thought we’d give you a party.’ (First I’d heard but I nodded agreeably.)
    ‘Jesus chuffin’ Christ. I hope I don’t even
see
me bloody birthday me! They’re a waste of bloody time. I’ve never had one good day in me life so what would I wanna gan celebratin’ aboot eh?’
    ‘Oh come on, Vinny.’ We all joined in, sensing Maz’s enjoyment.
    ‘Piss off. I divny wanna birthday.’
    Maz grinned, ‘Well we’re havin’ a party anyhow, you miserable sod, and if you dain’t come we’ll be celebratin’ without you. So pack it in and get another pint doon yer