It wasn’t long before a young man walked into the gents’. He came straight back out again, shaking his head and muttering to a guy who he passed. ‘I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, mate. Someone’s getting a right fuckin hiding. The guy beating him up has really lost the plot and I wouldn’t risk getting involved.’
Amber’s unease turned to alarm. Maybe Kev had gone too far, and she didn’t want him getting into trouble. She dashed inside the gents’ and stopped by the door, gasping with shock at the sight of Kev standing over Cliff, who was bent double. He had his hand on the back of his head and was bashing it repeatedly into the sink. Even from where she was standing, she could see the blood spatter.
‘Shit, Kev. No!’ she yelled. ‘You’ve gone too far. He isn’t fuckin’ worth it!’
For a moment Kev didn’t seem to register her presence and he continued his vicious assault till Amber grabbed his arm. ‘Kev!’ she yelled. ‘We’ve got to get out of here before someone calls the cops.’
Mention of the police seemed to bring him to his senses, and he stopped what he was doing. Instead he pulled Cliff’s head upwards so he could assess the damage. The sight of his misshapen nose and bloody face made the bile rise to Amber’s throat and she brought her hand up to her mouth. Cliff looked piteously across at her and she felt sickened. She may have been shaken by the assault but that didn’t mean he deserved her mercy.
‘She’s right,’ said Kev, looking into Cliff’s swollen and bloodshot eyes. ‘You’re not fuckin’ worth it. You pervy bastard!’
Then he rammed Cliff’s face into the sink one last time and turned to go.
‘Don’t stop to finish the drinks. Go straight out,’ Kev ordered as they walked across the pub.
They stopped at another pub so Kev could get himself cleaned up, and he bought them both a drink. Amber was glad of the brandy to settle her nerves, and it wasn’t long until they left and hailed a cab.
They made the silent journey back to Kev’s place. Amber was deep in thought about the night’s events. Seeing Cliff again after all these years had upset her. He was a traumatic reminder of all she had been through, and now she felt enraged by the woeful look he had given her. How dare he look to her for compassion after what he had done! She had stopped Kev for his own sake, not Cliff’s. But she didn’t feel any remorse for Kev’s actions. Although he could be violent, he was doing it for her.
Amber could never have dealt with Cliff on her own, and she was satisfied that he had got his comeuppance. She had no regrets about being in a relationship with a man as violent as Kev. She just needed to tread carefully and learn how to play him to her advantage.
38
December 2015
Angie held up the wine bottle. The lighting wasn’t brilliant inside the Rose and Crown and it was difficult to see if there was any wine remaining. She tipped the bottle upside down and held it over the glass, disconcerted when nothing but a tiny dribble slipped from it. She tried to drink from the empty glass anyway before conceding that she needed to go back to the bar for more drink.
She was alone inside the pub tonight and was already feeling drunk. As Angie sat there a series of random notions floated around inside her alcoholic brain. How had she come to this? Her life had been alright once. Years ago. She giggled to herself, recalling some of the fun she’d had in the past, and remembering it like it was yesterday. But then her thoughts switched course. Everything had changed now.
She hated her life, hated the clients and knew the other girls didn’t have much time for her. It wasn’t surprising really as even her own kids rarely acknowledged her these days. Poor old Angie!
When she returned from the bar, Angie continued to indulge in this disjointed thinking. She found it difficult to understand why her life was the way it was. Inside her head she was still a young girl: pretty, vibrant and slim. Life and soul of the party. Always was. Everybody wanted to join in when Angie was letting her hair down. And all the handsome young men made a beeline for her.
She began to voice her thoughts out loud. ‘Poxy bloody clients!’ She coughed. ‘Bloody cough! Let’s have a drink.’
Angie lifted the bottle and filled her glass again. ‘Cheers,’ she said, holding her glass up into the air and trying to catch the eye of a good-looking young man on a neighbouring table. She spoke out loud again. ‘Not your type, eh? Like ’em curvy, do ya? Sssome men do.’ Then she mumbled to herself, ‘Not his type. Bloody fat that’s what they are. Curvy? Phut! I can ssstill get the men. You just don’t want your girlfriend to find out, do you, love?’
One of the young man’s friends overheard her chunnering. He glanced over momentarily then turned to his friend and sniggered.
She sat there for some time, drinking the wine and muttering to herself until she eventually announced, ‘Need the toilet!’
Angie stood up and stumbled her way past the young men on the neighbouring table, not stopping to acknowledge them. She’d already temporarily forgotten they existed. Angie staggered into the ladies’, did what she had to do, heedless of the continuing stream of urine as she pulled up her briefs. Then she made her way to the mirror, her moist underwear clinging to her buttocks.
She was about to touch up her makeup when she was seized by a coughing fit. Angie put up her hand to cover her mouth and, as she did so, she caught sight of her reflection
