‘But I don’t want another,’ I told him. I didn’t understand what was going on. Did they bring drink after drink in these places until you told them not to? No wonder the poor were always plastered, and poor.
‘Think you’ve caught someone’s eye. Aren’t you a lucky girl.’ The dour barman gestured with a tilt of his head.
My eyes travelled across the bar until they settled on the familiar form of an unkempt Dr Shivershev. He was sat on a stool looking straight at me from the other side. He lifted his drink and gave a nod, a funny little curl on his lips. Next to him stood a ferociously pretty woman with drowsy eyes and wideset cheekbones. She was draped over his arm like a saloon girl from the Wild West. Tendrils of fair hair curled around her face. She didn’t wear a bonnet and carried herself in a way that said she didn’t need rescuing. To the other side of Dr Shivershev stood a man with gingery whiskers, a flashy waistcoat and jacket, smoking a pipe.
The woman leaned forward to whisper to Dr Shivershev and winked at me as she did so. Dr Shivershev said something to the man with the whiskers, and they all started laughing. I felt incredibly stupid. In a fit of temper, I grabbed the rum and downed it, slammed the empty glass on the bar and shot them all what I hoped was a filthy look, although it may have appeared – quite accurately, as it happened – more like I was about to vomit. The sweaty barman scooped up the glass and I ran out of the pub, trying to contain the panic at the fire in my chest. My eyes watered. I barged past the men who’d looked me up and down earlier and they barely moved, just swayed to the sides like blades of grass in a breeze and continued their conversation. Meanwhile, I stood on the pavement and retched.
23
I never touched rum again after that. I hadn’t been much of a drinker anyway, but not for want of encouragement, from Aisling, of course. Drink just didn’t agree with me, as I discovered on our trip together to Brighton.
We had decided to catch the train to Brighton, all because Aisling wanted to go to the Pavilion. I was entirely willing, but it was she who had all the ideas and made the plans, and I was happy to follow. It was obvious to anyone who cared to notice that Aisling and I had grown close. I hadn’t realised how close, of course, I only knew I was in awe of her. I followed her around like her devoted shadow. Aisling had the courage to be all the things I was so frightened of. Bold, fearless and unashamedly herself, she carried this innate belief that everything would be all right, come what may. I even started to feel that way myself. I had never had a sister, or a best friend and so she became all things to me. We were together as much as we could be, and if we were apart, I spent my hours thinking of her. Whenever I dared to dream of the future, Aisling was most definitely in it, leading from the front, me trailing behind her, quite happily as it should happen.
When the day came for Brighton it was bright and sunny, we couldn’t believe our luck, but the train was packed, too crowded, and it appeared everyone else in London had had the same idea. We spent the morning walking along the pier, sitting on the beach on pebbles that dug into our behinds, and throwing winkles at the seagulls to see if they would catch them. Eventually we decided not to bother going to the Pavilion after all. It was early afternoon when Aisling suggested we start making our way back, to miss the rush.
‘What? After coming all this way? It was you wanted to come,’ I said.
‘You can’t do that,’ said Aisling.
‘Do what?’
‘Let me make all the plans all the time and then criticise.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Yes, you were.’
‘Not really. I thought you wanted to come here, that’s all.’
‘I did, but it’s too busy, and there’s nowhere to sit. It’s like being cattle, we have to keep shuffling forwards. Why don’t we go home?’
‘All right,’ I said, although I was confused by her change of heart.
Partway through our journey back, the train pulled into a quiet little station. I was staring out of the window not paying much attention when Aisling stood up, grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door of the carriage.
‘Come on, let’s get out here.’
‘What? Why?’
Before I knew it, we were the only people on the platform and our train had left. I didn’t know where we were. The station was positively ghostly. A tiny ticket office with a geriatric stationmaster and a half-dead lurcher were the only souls.
‘What’s the point of this?’ I asked, but she ignored me.
We trudged along a country lane to nothingness, with fields on either side. It was a dry earthen track that stretched for miles and we had no idea what awaited us in either direction.
‘Aisling, what are we doing here?’
‘Stop worrying. We can catch
