***
I looked in wonder at the room.
“Give me a shout if you need anything, I’ll just be in the kitchen getting things prepped for tonight” Hector had said, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. We had grabbed my things from the car, the snow now falling harder than ever, the wind blowing it at a right angle under our hoods. Once back inside we had come down a corridor from the bar, the distinct smells of a kitchen to my right and a line of rooms on my left. Each door had a name on it; ‘Hailsham’, ‘Tanlaw Mill’, ‘Verney Park’ to name a few. I was in ‘Beloff’ and Hector had assured me it was the more luxury accommodation. I could believe it. In the middle of the room was an enormous bed, the dark heavy wooden frame looked as solid as stone and the mattress was piled high with blankets and pillows, a thick fur cover over the top. At the foot of the bed was the most beautiful stand-alone copper lined bath, sitting on a stone slab with the drain underneath, the tap rising from the floor on a glinting column like the neck of a golden swan. The walls were the same dark wooden panelling as the main bar, with a small bookcase in the corner. It was warmly lit with a wrought iron candelabra hanging down over the middle of the room, the soft orange bulbs were unobtrusive and left soft shadows in the corners. A door led off to a tiny little bathroom with a stone sink and ancient porcelain toilet, complete with overhead cistern and pull chord, a throwback to the ancient bathrooms in Stromont that I always remembered from my younger years. The only window in the room was a little one next to the bookcase directly opposite the bath, though now it was piled high with snow, little light making it through the cold blanket. The room wasn’t large, but the cosy feel of it meant that that didn’t matter; it was the kind of room to shelter from a storm in, which was convenient.
I switched on the bath taps which gave a distinct clunking rattling sound before belching forth a torrent of hot water. The steam rose pleasantly in a column over my head and into a black iron grate above. I sighed and flopped down to the bed. What a bizarre spot, I thought. How did somewhere like this exist, this far out in the sticks? It seemed impossible that a fixed base of people could possibly live out here, though then again if anywhere was going to attract people to come from a distance it was this pub. I smiled up at the ceiling, the warmth of the little room sapping the last of the cold from my bones as I continued to sink lower into the fur blanket. More to the point though, who the hell was Hector? How did he seem to know my family, and not only know them but actually get on with them enough for Grandma Margaret to have given him a bottle of whiskey? And who was this ‘we’ he kept talking about? I had assumed he meant a wife or partner but I hadn’t seen anyone else about so far. All sorts of strange and wonderful questions but at the time I couldn’t think of any that I really cared enough about to ask, the warmth of the room was intoxicating and if I wasn’t careful I’d fall asleep before my bath was run.
Standing up I wandered over to the bookcase, absently checking through the titles. It was an eclectic mix to be sure, collections of old classics like Dumas and Tolstoy thrown in with modern rippers like Cornwall and Moriarty, the occasional foreign cover completing the wheel of culture. Pleasantly, they all looked well used, thumbed through and slightly dog eared, the way a book should be. I picked out a worn copy of Grimm’s fairy tales and was about to step out of my clothes when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in” I said. Hector poked his head round and held out a steaming mug and a plate.
“I made too much tea and thought you may like some?” He looked down at the plate “Also biscuits, because no tea should go without a biscuit.” I smiled, clearly this man was a fiction and I had died and met an angel. That would certainly explain a lot.
“Thank you, that’s very kind” he nodded and came in, placing the tea and plate of biscuits on the bedside table before turning to leave. “Hector?” he stopped in the doorway and looked at me expectantly. I wasn’t sure which question to ask, so I went with an easy one “what is this place? I mean I know it’s a pub, a very nice one too but how… how is it so…?” I gestured round at the general room, indicating the pleasantness. He gave a knowing smile.
“It’s just a pub, for most people anyway, albeit quite a good one if I say so myself. For some people though it’s a little more than that, sometimes people need a bit of an escape and this place… well, it can be that. I think that’s a lot easier answered later though, you’ll have to excuse me, the game’s finishing soon and we’ll be opening up.” With that he was gone, the door clicking shut after him.
“Well that answered nothing” I muttered to myself before shrugging. I stepped out of my clothes and picked up a biscuit. Custard creams, an excellent choice. The tea was too hot still so I placed it over by the bath before stepping in. The water was perfect temperature, making my skin tingle a little as I slowly slid down, letting out an audible ‘ahhhhh’ as my shoulders submerged and I disappeared beneath the surface, staying under the water with a small stream of bubbles slowly trickling from my nose. I felt as though all the cold and misadventure of the day was finally being eked away.
I honestly couldn’t tell you how long I was in that bath for. I hadn’t realised how stressed and wound up I had been, but it felt as though a knot was being untied in me as I lay under the water. The stress and worry of having to see my family and struggling through the snow and the tree being down, new places, unfamiliar people and sights and frustrations, it all went away in that bath, dissolving out into the hot water. I didn’t even pick up the book, I just lay there, relaxing, letting myself soak and drinking the tea. I even made myself a beard out of the bubbles, and honestly is there anything as relaxing as a bubble beard? I don’t know if I lay there splashing gently for 10 minutes or 10 hours.
Before I had the opportunity to completely turn into a prune however I was roused from my reverie. A gentle aroma was wafting under the door, something warm and soft, enticing me to take a deep breath in. Over the smell of the various bath soaps I’d liberally applied to the tub, the unmistakable scent of freshly baked bread was floating under the door in ever stronger waves. It was a glorious smell, conjuring images of artisanal bakeries and hipster patisseries; it was the smell of melting butter and comfort food, quiet mornings in with a cup of tea and plate of fresh toast. My stomach grumbled, and I looked down at it accusingly through the bubbles. It grumbled louder in response and I sighed. I was ravenous, which sadly meant that bath time was over. Hopping out I was extremely grateful for the quietly clicking radiator in the corner that was pumping out a surprising amount of heat, nothing worse than going from a warm bath to a cold house. I quickly towelled down and flung my case open, smart boring clothes suitable for family gatherings greeted me but luckily, tucked away there was also a nice big jumper and simple pair of black jeans, comfortable clothes for a comfortable place, though not exactly the most elegant of first impressions. I shrugged and dressed, half a sheep’s worth of wool jumper crackled with static as I slipped it over my head, my towel-dried hair slicking down unattractively. Shaking it free i gave it one last quick rub then shrugged again and put it up in a bun and turned to check myself out in the little makeup mirror. I looked more ready to settle onto a sofa and read a book than go spend a night in a pub but you have to make do with what you’ve got.
Walking down the corridor I felt like a cartoon character, floating on fluttering feet, beckoned by an enticing wisp of steam from a pie left out on a windowsill. The dark wood all around smelled of polish and resin, mixing with the crusty warmth of the fresh bread in an intoxicating, magnetic way, pulling me towards the main room of the pub again. As I approached though I could hear the unmistakable sound of other people, which made me pause by the heavy door. There was laughter and shouting but the wood was too thick to make out any words as such, it sounded like a group though, the back and forth of rowdy conversation too at ease to be a group of strangers. I took a deep breath and pushed through the large door, quietly trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I sat quietly at the far end of the bar, close to the door and watched as four men in football kit moved around the room setting up the chairs around the tables. Clearly the ‘game’ as it were was over.
They were all caked in mud, but easy to identify one from the other, one was very tall and slim, another was short and quite squat, another was bald but quite athletic and the last was… well large is probably the best way to put it.
“The way that bloke launched at you, I thought he was going to take your head off!” the tall one said as he spun a chair to face the right way.
“Nah, he was just overexcited, it wasn’t him that I was worried about it was…”
“That fuckin’ centre back!” The squat one exclaimed, interrupting the bald one
“Yeah precisely. That guy had something to prove”
“Bullshit that the ref didn’t do something about that, that’s proper dangerous.”
“Especially in a pub league”
“Probably problems with his marriage” the large one said thoughtfully, flipping a bench the right way up.
“…go on I’ll bite, why’d you say that?” the bald one asked with a smirk. He was now leaning against the bar rubbing mud off his hands with a cloth
“Well anyone that angry on a Saturday is probably unhappy at home; taking his aggression out on poor unsuspecting arseholes like yourself is his form of therapy. I know that kicking you in the shins brings me no end of release”
“Don’t say release you wrong’un” the squat one said, pulling a bar stool out and perching on it, taking the cloth from the bald one. The chairs had all been righted and three of the group stood by the glinting bar, whilst the tall one stood and prodded the fire with a long poker.
“Fuck me it was cold though” he said as he rubbed his hands “thought m’knob was gonna invert” I blushed at the crassness of the sentence, clearly they hadn’t spotted me yet it felt I was intruding on a pretty personal chat. Whoever they were they were clearly close bunch and had something to do with the pub, they were too comfortable to be regular customers.
“Gross,” the bald one said “anyway, I quite like playing in weather like that, stops you over heating and you can run for longer”
“Why would you want to run for longer?” asked the squat one
“Seconded” the big one said, nodding and peering over the bar
“Well you don’t know that much about running”
“Hey, only one here that’s done a marathon remember” they all paused and stared at him quizzically
“Fuck me that’s right! I forgot that. Jesus that’s something…”
“Butler!” called the tall one, looking to the kitchen door “Butler where’s my beer you nonce”. There was a pause then a clattering in the kitchen.
“I think ‘Nonce’ is a bit rich coming from you dear…” Hector said as he pushed his way through the door. He was carrying a tray of bread rolls and the smell flooded the bar.
“Two hundred and seventy one” the bald one muttered.
“No beer until you’ve had your bread, can’t be drinking on an empty stomach” He turned to me and gestured to the rolls “Fancy some bread?” he asked with a smile.
I went red as the muddy four turned and saw me for the first time
“Bloody ‘ell!” the tall one said “where did you slip in from!” I went more red and struggled to find words for an answer
“Now now Sebastian, be nice.” He smiled and beckoned to me again. I stood and made my slow way over, standing by the bar. The tall one, whose name was clearly Sebastian let the poker drop and made his way over to join us, absently rubbing a piece of soot on his shorts. “This is Ash,” Hector continued, “she’s up here trying to get to Stromont to visit Audrey” Sebastian looked out the window
“Not tonight you’re not love” he smiled a broad grin, a small piece of dried mud falling from his cheek as he did. “How lucky you are to have found us then.” I couldn’t help but smile back, he had a kind face, although his demeanour was similar to your stereotypical ‘lad down the pub’ he seemed sweet enough. “Sorry about all that noise before, but I promise we don’t bite. Well, he does but only if you ask him nicely” he pointed at Hector who rolled his eyes and pushed back into the kitchen, the door clacking on its double hinge.
The three other guys had picked up a bread roll each and were liberally applying a layer of butter to the inside, hungry eyes entirely focussed on the food. I took the chair Sebastian had offered, picking a bun from the tray. The bread was still warm, crusty on the outside, but as I pulled it open the inside was soft and slightly moist. My stomach growled loudly and I blushed again.
“Ha! Sounds like someone needs this more than we do” the squat man laughed. He held out his hand and I shook it. “I’m Matt, that’s Seb” he indicated Sebastian, the tall man “that’s Dan” the large one raised a second bread roll in salute, the first hanging from one side of his mouth “and that’s Kirkwall, he’s a prick” ‘Kirkwall’, the bald one, bowed.
“Most people call me Alec and leave off the prick bit though”
“So Ash” Seb said, through a mouthful of bread “how comes you’re heading to Stromont?”
“Well actually it’s my grandmother’s will reading” I said, and too my surprise I felt a little wave of sadness flow over me.
“Ah sorry” said Seb “I didn’t realise you were Marge’s granddaughter”
I nearly choked on my bread
“Marge?” I exclaimed with a laugh. Seb grinned sheepishly
“Yeah she didn’t like that much at first but she learnt to love it eventually.” He looked away for a second, a thoughtful smile on his face “She was quite a force was old Marge, never seen someone hold down a whisky like she could” the other three scoffed
“Never seen someone feeding an old lady so much whisky like you did…”
“Hey, she kept paying for it. Seriously though, if you’re Marge’s granddaughter though, it’s honestly a pleasure to meet you.”
I swallowed a lump of bread and frowned at the men. “Sorry, I keep hearing these things about her, first from Hector and now you, seriously how do you guys know my grandmother?”
They looked at each other and Dan shrugged “it’s Hector mostly; I think she was a friend of someone he knew. Started out that he would go up to Stromont for tea and things, then one night he managed to convince her and Audrey to pop down here for dinner.”
“If I’m honest, we thought Audrey was a sour old bitch when she first walked in” said Alec, Seb hit him hard on the arm looking horrified
“Jesus you are a prick!” he exclaimed “I’m sorry about him, he likes to get a rise” I laughed
“Honestly it’s fine, actually sour old bitch is probably the statement I can relate to most about her.” Alec smiled, rubbing his arm
“Well that was just to start though, the thing about this place is it’s quite good at getting sour people to sweeten up. Marge though, she was great from the beginning, a force of nature no doubt, but always a laugh to sit and chat with, and she was down here plenty.”
“If I’m honest, I think Marge went more than sweet, pretty sure if she could ‘ave she wouldda been up on the tables each night” Seb grinned at the thought. I shook my head
“You talk like this place is magic.” They all laughed
“Some days it feels like that. You’ll see tonight, we’ve done something pretty good here” said Matt.
Hector pushed back through the door drying his hands on a towel “I hope you’re being nice to our VIP guest chaps” Dan let out a tremendous burp in response, Hector frowned.
“Just explaining how you cast a spell on this house that turns people into idiots as soon as they walk in”
“Ah yes, a simple spell that one, it’s called ‘Alcoholus too muchus”
“Weak” Matt said.
“Do you want a beer or not?”
“About two hours ago, but now will do thanks” he smiled sweetly at Hector and the barman moved to the beer taps, pouring pints as the other four looked on, licking their lips.
“So is Luke joining us tonight?” he asked as he poured
“Should be” Matt replied “him and Giulia have been at practice all afternoon otherwise he would have come with us” he took his pint and sipped it, “aaahhhhh fuck that’s good” he smacked his lips and continued “think they’re hoping to play later”
“I bloody hope so, need them to whip this crowd up” Seb spread his arm to the empty pub
“Oh shut up, you know no-one comes here until later” Hector replied. “Ash, what will you have?” he said as he handed the others their pints.
“Ummm…” I looked over the beer taps, the various names a total enigma to me. “What’s the best?”
“Buddle’s Bitler”
“Out meant out”
“Weird Flex”
All three names were said at once by the guys and Hector rolled his eyes at them. He leant down on his elbows on the bar “Depends on what you like…” we proceeded to have a nice chat about the types of beer and how different flavours complimented different times and tastes. A true pub chat. It transpired that the four guys caked in mud had each come up with a different flavour and each was quite attached to their own beer. We sat in the warmth and the fire crackled gently as we chatted, the wind ripped at the walls but in that pub all was nice and quiet, snow piled and drifted, as the sun slid lower in the sky and the six of us talked away. It further transpired that the team before me were all part owners in the pub, with a couple of others who were yet to arrive, hence the ease at which they sat and chatted, and the interest in having their beer as labelled ‘the best’.
I eventually settled on a Buddle’s Bitler, with the caveat that I would have a pint of each before the night was over, to the delight of the group. We settled in, chatting about the football they’d just played, the weather and my drive up to get there, it was easy conversation, and I felt myself falling in with the group immediately. They were a lively bunch, but relaxed and extremely comfortable in the old pub. Alec finished his pint first and looked at his watch.
“Right, time for a shower, what time is everyone getting here?
“You always ask that, and it’s always the same answer: I have no idea, it’s a pub, and they’ll get here when they want to get here” Hector replied.
“Not helpful. OK well I’ll be back in 20 minutes, can you shout if Luke gets here he’s supposed to be bringing me something” He started to walk to the door that lead to the rooms “wait…” he paused and looked around “where the fuck is Jack?” the others looked around the room
“What the fuck I swear he came up with us from the football”
“Yeah he was literally at the front door with us, how did he disappear?”
“How does he do this?”
As if on cue, the front door suddenly banged open, and the heavy curtain bulged inwards, but didn’t open.
“Shit bollocks fuck” came a voice from behind it. There was a rustling and a flailing and then a heavy thumping crash, followed by a sigh. “Can someone please come open the curtain for me” the voice sounded defeated.
“Jack you’re a mess” said Alec as he crossed the pub and flung the curtain wide. A man was standing in the doorway, surrounded by a pile of logs strewn across the floor in the entryway.
“A proper mess” he replied, and the two started to pick up the logs as the others laughed at the bar.
“Where’d you go for those Jack? You were gone for years!”
“Bit of an exaggeration…” he muttered as he made his way across the pub with one arm full. He threw two of them onto the fire which snapped and crackled happily, flames licking at the fresh fuel in delight. “Well some moron hasn’t rebuilt the log store so all the ones at the front are covered in snow now” he placed the rest of the logs at the end of the bar, Alec stacked his on top. “So I had to go chop these from the big ones in the stable.”
“My hero” said Dan, putting on a girl’s voice
“Fuck off, and if you eat too many of those you’re going to become a lump of dough” he pointed at the fourth roll Dan was now holding in his hand. He looked at it, then shrugged and continued to slather on the butter, a comedic look of excitement across his face.
“And if that happens I’ll eat myself too” I smiled at him.
“We thought you’d been abducted” Hector said from behind the bar, but Jack ignored him, his eyes had found me out as the stranger in the group.
“Hello” he held his hand out to me and it took me a second to realise that I should shake it. “I’m Jack” he said, making some quite intense eye contact
“Oi!” Hector said from behind the bar, the others were smirking “I will get the spray bottle if you don’t behave” he said, Jack grinned and let go of my hand, sitting down at the bar
“Just being friendly” he said with a smile at me. I blushed, he was quite handsome and despite not being exactly ‘my type’ the intensity of his attention made me suddenly feel very hot in the warmth of the fire.
“Sorry about him” Seb said, handing his pint glass over to Hector to be refilled, and giving Jack a quick cuff round the head “we forgot to get him neutered as a pup and now he’s a bloody menace”
“Awoooo”
“Christ. Anyway, like I said, shower time” Alec said again
“See you later darling” the barman called after him with a grin
“Not if I see you first!” he shouted back as he disappeared down the corridor.
The group settled back into easy conversation, Jack despite the introduction was perfectly pleasant, again fitting in comfortably. The conversation flowed and I could feel the first beer misting my mind in that soft way that a first pint will, tickling at the corners of your consciousness. Calmness and relaxation washed over me as I leant on the bar, the storm outside now a distant nuisance.
***
End of part 2