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Authors: Heidi Swain
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so I’m sure you can,’ Ben announced. ‘Doesn’t apply to overbearing mothers, though.’
‘Sorry?’ I frowned, wondering what had happened in Ben’s life that meant he too had had to brave a pub full of curiosity and gossiping. ‘
What
treatment?’
‘Band-aid treatment. You know, rip it off quick; get it over and done with.’
‘He’s right,’ Jemma called over her shoulder. ‘You can front it out with the help of alcohol in the pub. Your mum, on the other hand, will want you stone-cold
sober!’
‘Yep,’ Tom joined in having the final word, ‘you have to work your way up to these things, Lizzie! Pub it is then!’
Chapter 7
To help cushion the impact of walking into a pub full of people I hadn’t seen since I floated out of town aboard a heart-shaped cloud, Tom offered to go on ahead with
Ben, get a round in and secure a table in a shady corner. Jemma reckoned that if I kept my hood up and my head down I would be able to sneak in and down a couple of stiff ones before anyone
recognised me.
As we slipped up the icy pavement that ran alongside the River Wyn and towards the cheerily lit haven at the end of the road, I considered throwing myself into a pot hole in the hope that I
would sprain or even break an ankle to avoid the inevitable humiliation which I could feel pulsating towards me with every step. Unfortunately Jemma, my telepathic companion, guessed what was afoot
and clung on even tighter. She didn’t say anything, but her grasp suggested that if I was going down I was going to have to take her with me.
‘Ready?’ she asked, her pretty face and long blonde hair lit by the soft glow emanating from the pub windows.
‘No,’ I smiled nervously. ‘Not really. Can we just go home, please?’
‘Oh come on! What can possibly go wrong?’
I looked up at the weather-beaten sign as it creaked in the icy breeze and the piercing gaze of the mermaid as she sat upon her rock, haughtily brushing her long locks with a sea shell comb.
‘Everything,’ I whispered. I stepped back just as Jemma lifted the latch on the heavy wooden door. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,’ I stammered, ‘not
yet. I’m just not ready.’
I turned with the intention of rushing back down the road to the sanctuary of Jemma and Tom’s welcoming hearth, but the door was thrust open and before I’d taken a single step, I
felt myself being helpfully nudged backwards by my ‘friend’.
It was inevitable of course that I should lose my footing and fall flat on my backside across the welcome mat. The pub fell silent as Jemma rushed, apologising profusely, to pull me to my feet
and dust me down as if it had been Ella who had fallen rather than foolish thirty-something me.
‘Well, well, well!’ I heard Evelyn Harper, the pub landlady’s shrill voice ring out. ‘Look what the cat’s dragged in!’
Tom and Ben sat as promised, in the shadowy nook next to the fire, nursing their drinks and shaking their heads.
‘Hello, Evelyn,’ I tried to smile, my face aglow, ‘long time no see.’
‘Too bloody long!’ shouted a voice next to me. It was Evelyn’s husband, Jim. ‘How the hell are you, girl?’
He spun me round and hugged me tight, my face barely reaching his chest.
‘Crikey, Jim!’ I spluttered. ‘Have you grown?’
As I regained my composure and felt some of the heat in my face recede, I noticed everyone turning back to their own conversations. The babble of chatter in the pub grew steadily louder until it
was once again almost impossible to hear yourself think and I was subjected to nothing more agonising than the odd questioning glance. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as I first
thought.
‘I thought you were more interested in grand exits than entrances?’ Jim winked as he levered himself to his station behind the bar.
Evelyn, who barely came up to his shoulder but was very much in charge, dug him hard in the ribs.
‘You leave her alone!’ she snapped. ‘Ignore him, my
‘Sorry?’ I frowned, wondering what had happened in Ben’s life that meant he too had had to brave a pub full of curiosity and gossiping. ‘
What
treatment?’
‘Band-aid treatment. You know, rip it off quick; get it over and done with.’
‘He’s right,’ Jemma called over her shoulder. ‘You can front it out with the help of alcohol in the pub. Your mum, on the other hand, will want you stone-cold
sober!’
‘Yep,’ Tom joined in having the final word, ‘you have to work your way up to these things, Lizzie! Pub it is then!’
Chapter 7
To help cushion the impact of walking into a pub full of people I hadn’t seen since I floated out of town aboard a heart-shaped cloud, Tom offered to go on ahead with
Ben, get a round in and secure a table in a shady corner. Jemma reckoned that if I kept my hood up and my head down I would be able to sneak in and down a couple of stiff ones before anyone
recognised me.
As we slipped up the icy pavement that ran alongside the River Wyn and towards the cheerily lit haven at the end of the road, I considered throwing myself into a pot hole in the hope that I
would sprain or even break an ankle to avoid the inevitable humiliation which I could feel pulsating towards me with every step. Unfortunately Jemma, my telepathic companion, guessed what was afoot
and clung on even tighter. She didn’t say anything, but her grasp suggested that if I was going down I was going to have to take her with me.
‘Ready?’ she asked, her pretty face and long blonde hair lit by the soft glow emanating from the pub windows.
‘No,’ I smiled nervously. ‘Not really. Can we just go home, please?’
‘Oh come on! What can possibly go wrong?’
I looked up at the weather-beaten sign as it creaked in the icy breeze and the piercing gaze of the mermaid as she sat upon her rock, haughtily brushing her long locks with a sea shell comb.
‘Everything,’ I whispered. I stepped back just as Jemma lifted the latch on the heavy wooden door. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,’ I stammered, ‘not
yet. I’m just not ready.’
I turned with the intention of rushing back down the road to the sanctuary of Jemma and Tom’s welcoming hearth, but the door was thrust open and before I’d taken a single step, I
felt myself being helpfully nudged backwards by my ‘friend’.
It was inevitable of course that I should lose my footing and fall flat on my backside across the welcome mat. The pub fell silent as Jemma rushed, apologising profusely, to pull me to my feet
and dust me down as if it had been Ella who had fallen rather than foolish thirty-something me.
‘Well, well, well!’ I heard Evelyn Harper, the pub landlady’s shrill voice ring out. ‘Look what the cat’s dragged in!’
Tom and Ben sat as promised, in the shadowy nook next to the fire, nursing their drinks and shaking their heads.
‘Hello, Evelyn,’ I tried to smile, my face aglow, ‘long time no see.’
‘Too bloody long!’ shouted a voice next to me. It was Evelyn’s husband, Jim. ‘How the hell are you, girl?’
He spun me round and hugged me tight, my face barely reaching his chest.
‘Crikey, Jim!’ I spluttered. ‘Have you grown?’
As I regained my composure and felt some of the heat in my face recede, I noticed everyone turning back to their own conversations. The babble of chatter in the pub grew steadily louder until it
was once again almost impossible to hear yourself think and I was subjected to nothing more agonising than the odd questioning glance. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as I first
thought.
‘I thought you were more interested in grand exits than entrances?’ Jim winked as he levered himself to his station behind the bar.
Evelyn, who barely came up to his shoulder but was very much in charge, dug him hard in the ribs.
‘You leave her alone!’ she snapped. ‘Ignore him, my
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