Tequila & Tea Bags (6 page)

I am actually kind of glad to be working at the home today. At least it's full of people. Even if they’re ridiculously old and wrinkled. It's still noise. The village is just so quiet. It's like I’m just alone with my thoughts, and that scares me. My mind keeps wandering to thoughts of where my life is going and the truth is that I don’t know. I need distractions.  

I’m chatting with Norman when I hear the commotion. I look around and spot Peggy and Betty going at it. Peggy’s all up in her face, pointing her bony finger against Betty’s chest. Betty’s hardly going down without a fight though. She stands up and squares right back at her. Old ladies fighting? This is strangely awesome.

‘No one wants you here, Betty,’ Peggy snarls, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘You can't just reappear in this village and expect everyone to fall all over you.’

‘Oh piss off, Peggy. You’re just jealous that I left this place. You’ve never done owt,’ she spits back.

‘I was too busy laying down some roots. Making friends, marrying t’ man of my dreams and starting a family. You’re only jealous you don’t have anyone who loves you.’

Ouch. Low blow, Peggy.

I see Betty’s face fall before she quickly puts her mask back up.

‘Loves you? Your old man cheated with Florence and your kids moved to Leeds. Hardly the loving family you portray!’ she sneers.

Go Betty.

Peggy shoves her hard and Betty falls back onto her chair. Shit. This got violent really quick. Bettys face becomes enraged, a vein on her forehead throbbing. She jumps up, as if she was still twenty-one, and grabs Peggy’s grey hair, getting her into a headlock.

Oh my fucking God! This
cannot
be happening.

I run over, trying desperately to tear them apart. They tumble to the floor, rolling around, their skirts up round their waists, their stockings on show. I try to pull them apart, but with no one else helping it's hard. No one else seems to be doing anything. They’re just looking on in amazement. To be fair, it's probably the best entertainment they’ve had in a long time. I’m half expecting them to start chanting ‘FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!’

What the fuck am I going to do?

I consider my options. I could run and get Will from his office, but that’s bloody ages away. They could have killed each other by then. I frantically think back to any other bitch fights I’ve witnessed. It comes to me immediately. I remember Sarah and Kim fighting over a guy in Destiny toilets. The only way I got them off each other was to pinch their nipples. Only I’m not sure if I should look at their chests or in their socks.

I jump on them in an attempt to shock them, but I end up rolling around with them until I manage to get to their boobs. I pinch as hard as I can.

‘Ah! Ah!’ they both shriek, their faces contorting with pain. I’ve got them now.

I start standing up, dragging them up with me. They suddenly look frail and I feel bad. They are old ladies after all, and I
am
twisting their nipples viciously. How surreal.

‘Come on, ladies. There’s no need to argue,’ I try to reason.

‘Why don’t you tell
her
that?!’ Betty snaps like a petulant toddler.

I thought old people were supposed to be all wise and calm? This lot seems to be reverting back to their teenage years. I let go of their nipples and grab their shoulders instead.

‘I only finished what you started, Betty!’ Peggy roars, trying to go around me to point her finger towards Betty again. She’s a vicious little thing.   

‘Apologise to each other now or I’m ripping your nips off!’ I bark, making Peter and Ethel giggle.

They both pout and grumble sorry at each other.

‘Good. Now I think it's best you stay out of each other’s way for a while, don’t you?’ They don’t answer, but look at the floor. ‘Good.’

I let them go and the crowd starts to break up. It's only when they start to disperse that I see Will standing amongst the crowd. He looks at me, amusement on his face, and winks. What is with the winking? I seriously don’t know how I feel about it.

I ignore him and walk Betty towards her room. When we get there I shut the door behind us.

‘So are you going to tell me what that was about?’ I demand, my hand on my hip.

‘She’s just a contrary bitch, that’s all. She’s always been contrary.’ She sits on her bed, looking away from me.

‘Come on. I know there’s more to it than that. Tell me.’ I sit down on the edge of her bed watching while she gets changed into her night dress.

‘We used to be best friends, but she betrayed me. It's a long story.’ She looks out of the window, deep in thought.

‘So tell me,’ I giggle. ‘I’ve got time. It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this village.’ I wish I had some popcorn.

She smiles, then furrows her brow. ‘If I tell you, this can't be repeated to William or James, understood?’

Will and James? What have they got to do with it? Now I’m interested.

‘Of course.’

Will and I are barely friends anyways, and James and I don’t do much talking, if you know what I mean.  

‘William’s grandfather Thomas and I used to court each other,’ she explains, turning to face me.

‘Really? And? What’s that got to do with Peggy?’ I ask in a rush.

‘I were madly in love with him,’ she smiles. ‘Only…when he asked me to marry him I got scared.’ She takes a small photo album out of her bedside table and flicks to a well-thumbed page.

‘Scared? Of what?’

Was he a big scary bastard or something?

‘Of settling down and possibly never leaving this village. I wanted to explore the world, meet new people, and experience new things.’

It sounds familiar.

‘So you turned him down?’

‘Aye.’ She passes over the album and points to a young couple. They’re on a kissing post and they look mad about each other. ‘I explained that I loved him, but that if he loved me he had to let me go. We parted on good terms and I went off t’ London to train to be a nurse. I told Peggy to write to me if he ever got involved with anyone else. I know it was selfish, but I still wanted him to myself. I just needed to get it out of my system.’

‘So what? She never wrote to you?’

‘She never wrote. After four months I missed him terribly, so I decided to go home to him. Only when I arrived I saw him with Karen. Coming out of the church, married.’

No! Oh my God, poor Betty. She must have been heartbroken

‘Karen? Who the hell is Karen?’

‘Will’s grandma. The lady he married. I was destroyed, so I decided to go off on my travels to get over him. The worst thing was that Peggy was the maid of honour.’

‘Why would she do that to you?’ I wonder if she was jealous.

‘I don’t know, pet. I thought we were friends, best friends. Anyway, it was probably for the best. I travelled all around Europe and did everything I ever wanted. But I just can't forgive her for that. So please don’t ask me to.’

‘I’m sorry, Betty.’ It sounds so sad. I can imagine Betty travelling around desperately trying to mend her broken heart, when the one thing she truly wanted was back home without her.  

She looks at me seriously. ‘Rose, if you ever find love, cling to it. Everything else can be saved for another day, but love is the one thing you’ll regret letting go.’

I don’t think I’ll have anything to worry about.

***

Later that night I still can't shift the feeling of Betty’s story. My shower didn’t even rinse away the melancholy feeling. To let the love of her life fall through her fingers like that. And for her best friend to be a part in it all. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to treat Peggy fairly now. Every time I look at her face all I’ll see is the deceit she showed Betty.  

I towel dry my hair and walk into the living room in just my towel. I still can't believe Elsie’s bathroom is downstairs, but at least it's clean. I log onto Facebook to check for messages. I’ve discovered that if I place it on the top of the fireplace I get a weak connection. I still haven’t received a reply from Janey when I know she’s seen it. My heart aches with longing. There are new pictures all over her page. More nights out, more tequila, more men. God, it looks amazing. Could she be my Peggy? Is she deliberately trying to ruin things for me? No. I shake the thought from my head. I’m just getting paranoid. That’s what living in isolation does to you.

A knock at the door startles me out of my moping. I look at the clock. 8pm. Who the hell could that be? It's probably Elsie forgetting her key or something. For someone so God-like she’s scatty as hell. She’s at some church committee or something. The girl never stops. I’m exhausted just watching her flit in and out.

I swing the door open, barely looking at her. ‘Forgot your keys again?’

‘Err, no.’ I look up, way up, into Will’s face. What the hell is he doing here?

‘Will!’ I shriek. I’m suddenly aware that I’m in nothing but a flimsy white towel. And it's cold. My nipples are perking up to greet him. For
once
could they not react to
everything
?

He rubs his hands together and breathes into them, clearly cold, his burgundy scarf obviously not doing the job. He walks past me and into the lounge without an invite. What the hell is he doing? He’s so bloody presumptuous.

‘Come in, why don’t you,’ I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you wouldn’t be dressed.’ He takes a slow, lazy look over my body. Pervy bastard. I start to feel my cheeks redden as a hot flush takes over me. ‘So it seems we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,’ he explains, taking his scarf off. Make yourself at home why don’t you?

An apology? Is that what he’s here for? I didn’t think he cared what a little minion like me thought.

‘I don’t think it had anything to do with me. More to do with you and your head being stuck up your arse.’ I look away as I grin. One point to me.

He balks. ‘If you could just stop being such a bitch for just one minute I could try to explain.’

A bitch? Did he really just say that? My hands starts to shake at my sides, rage and hurt taking over. How can he call me a bitch? I’ve been called worse, but it still hurts more that it should. I push my hand through my wet hair and stand on one hip, with my eyebrows raised, challenging him.

He sighs, clearly exasperated with me. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to apologise and thank you for breaking up that fight earlier.’

Is this guy bi-polar? I can't keep up. Is he calling me a bitch or thanking me?

‘Oh, yeah. Calling me a bitch is a
really
good apology,’ I snap sarcastically. ‘Thanks for your help, by the way,’ I joke accusingly, a grin playing at my lips.

His face lights up with amusement. ‘Sorry, but it was far too much fun watching you roll around on the floor with them.’

I try to look pissed off, but I can't hold in the laugh that escapes my lips. ‘I didn’t realise those kind of things went down with old people.’

He chuckles. It’s a beautiful sound and lights up his face. ‘Well, our Yorkshire lasses are very passionate.’ He smiles, and it’s breath taking. It pisses me off that it makes my legs wobble slightly. It’s just that I haven’t seen him be anything but hostile towards me. I ignore it and smile back. He must share the charming gene with James.

‘Have you had a lot of experience with the Yorkshire ladies?’ I ask, suddenly wondering about his dating history. He doesn’t act like he has a girlfriend.  

‘Nah,’ he says, clearly offended. ‘Well, obviously yes, but not loads.’ He looks confused and annoyed. ‘Anyway, I’m here to say thank you.’

‘Well, you’ve said it.’ I bob my head awkwardly, wishing he’d leave. He makes me feel so uncomfortable.  

‘But I want to show you.’ He walks up to me, towering over my face. My breath leaves my body. I have to look up to him, he’s so tall. I’m used to being tall at five foot seven, but this is scary height. He must be six foot four at least.

I can almost feel his breath on my forehead. Oh my God. What the hell is he offering here? My palms start sweating and the back of my neck feels hot. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want to kiss him? My heart rate says different to my brain.

‘So…what…what…what are you going to show me?’ I mumble, my voice raspy, my breath coming out in sharp spurts, making my chest rise and fall dramatically.

Suddenly a box is thrust in my face and I have to stand back so it doesn’t hit me.

He grins. ‘I’m introducing you to Yorkshire tea.’ I look at the box closer and he’s right. It's a box of tea bags.

Is he serious? Talk about getting a girl hot under the collar!

I laugh, pushing him away, trying to act like I’m not a hot mess. ‘Sorry, I don’t like tea.’

He rolls his eyes. ‘Elsie mentioned it, but that’s only because you’ve been having shitty southern tea. Our water is far softer. Let me make you a proper brew and I promise you’ll like it.’

He looks so hopeful and happy…over tea. It's weird, but kind of endearing. Is this what turns him on? Tea? Is he going to ask me to tea bag him? I laugh to myself at my little joke.

‘O…kay. But I should get dressed first.’ I back away towards the stairs, his eyes following me, amused. Why does he always seem to be laughing at me?

‘You’re probably right.’ He smiles, with a wink. What the hell do these winks mean? He’s giving me a headache.

‘Right.’ I nod.

I turn around and stub my toe, stumbling onto the first step, and squashing my boob. I shriek from the agony. Not the boob. I go to grab the towel, but it's already fallen on the floor, pooled around my feet.

‘Aaaaahhhhh!’ I scream, desperately trying to cover myself. What do I cover first? The boobs or the Lulu? Oh dear God! ‘Look away! Look away!’ I shriek, trying to cover everything at once.

‘I’m looking away,’ he says, chuckling silently to himself.

I watch him turn his body slightly, his hand up over his eyes. I grab the towel and throw it around myself, running up the stairs as fast as my legs will take me. I rush into my room and close the door behind me, sliding down to the floor. What the hell is wrong with me? Even when I don’t want to get naked with a guy my body somehow finds a way. He must have seen. He must have. My boobs are hard to miss.

I pull on some black leggings and a loose grey t-shirt. I grab Elsie’s over-sized black and grey cardigan and apply a small bit of make-up. I mean, I know I don’t even like the guy, but I still don’t want to look like a monster in front of him. Just a bit of blusher, some mascara and some lip balm. Simple for me. There, that looks fine enough. I go to put my boots on when I realise that will probably look weird. I
am
supposed to be in my own house.

I walk down shyly in Elsie’s Forever Friends socks. I should really have something more sensible, but I didn’t plan on wearing socks with my sandals in Mexico. I look at the sofa, but he’s not there. Has he gone home? How long was I up there? Maybe he was offended by my nakedness.

‘Will?’ I call out shyly, tucking a bit of hair behind my ear.

‘In here.’

I smile, but then pull myself together as I walk towards his voice in the kitchen. Why am I even happy he’s still here? He’s a lordly arse. I find him filling up Elsie’s teapot, swishing it around like he’s creating art or something. Make yourself at home, why don’t you?  

‘So you’re really into your tea, then?’ I raise my eyebrows at his swirling to show my amusement.

‘Not just me. All of Yorkshire. Hell, most of England. Trust me when I say
you’re
the weirdo. I’m just trying to get you to fit in around here.’ He flashes another grin and I’m shocked that it sends a warm feeling down in my tummy. He’s got a dimple on his left cheek that appears when he smiles. I hadn’t noticed it before.

‘Maybe I don’t want to fit in,’ I counter, leaning against the worktop.

‘Yeah, I get the feeling you don’t,’ he smirks.

I tense my jaw. ‘What is
that
supposed to mean?’

‘God, why are you always so up for a barny?’ he sighs. ‘We Northerners are so much friendlier than you guys.’

‘No, you’re not. Especially you!’ I shriek, pointing my finger at him. ‘You can be downright rude.’

‘Really? Because I seem to think I’m making you a brew right now?’ He puts the kettle down and smiles triumphantly at me.

I open my mouth to retort something sharply, but then realise he is kind of right. Shit, that’s annoying.

‘Go sit down and I’ll bring it in.’

I skulk into the sitting room and turn the TV on. I make myself comfy on the sofa, with my lugs tucked up underneath me. This feels really weird, listening to Will banging about in the kitchen. I wish Elsie would come home and break the tension.

He walks into the room two minutes later, carrying a tray with a tea pot, two of Elsie’s china mugs, a jug of milk and a small plate of chocolate digestive biscuits. He pulls over the coffee table and lays it down.

‘So do you like sweet things?’ He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at me.

‘Is that some kind of sexual innuendo?’ I ask, wondering whether I want it to be.

‘Nah,’ he laughs. ‘I was just asking if you wanted sugar in your tea.’

‘Oh.’ I face palm myself. I’m such an idiot. ‘I do like sweets.’ I discreetly try to push the packet of Haribo on the side further out of sight. I don’t want him to think I’m a sugar junkie.

‘Okay, I’m giving you two sugars.’ He makes up my tea, taking a ridiculous amount of time and effort, before handing it over to me. ‘Now give it a chance,’ he warns sternly.

I turn my nose up at the smell of it, but feel too rude to refuse it. He’s gone to all of this effort. I bring it to my lips and take a tentative sip. Is it weird that it actually tastes good? And it seems to calm my running mind. I instantly feel relaxed and cosier.

‘Okay, it's nice,’ I admit reluctantly.

‘I told you!’ He grins. God, he’s happy about this. He’s actually beaming. It’s kind of cute.

‘You really do love tea,’ I laugh, rolling my eyes. The guy needs to get a life.

‘Did you know that when tea first came over here it was so high in taxes that none of the working class could afford it? But William Pitt the Younger cut the taxes massively, so smuggling stopped and everyone could enjoy it.’

God, he’s boring.

‘Were you named after him or something?’ I snort, spraying a bit out of my nose. I wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Nah,’ he smiles, ‘but I get why you’d think that. I know I’m amazing too.’ He sips his tea. ‘So did you find out what that fight was about?’

Ah. Now I see his ulterior motive. Nosy bastard thought he could soften me up and then make me spill my guts.

‘Err…no.’ I look away so he can't see my face.

I won't betray Betty’s trust.

‘I don’t get it, me,’ he muses. ‘They’ve always hated each other. There was always a weird atmosphere when my nan was alive too. I wonder what happened with those three.’

‘Who knows?’ I shrug, taking a sip of the tea, trying to avoid eye contact. I
hate
lying. I’m so shit at it.

He turns to face me fully, tucking his knee underneath him, looking at me sceptically.

‘I think you know more than you’re letting on,’ he challenges.

Shit. I really need to practise lying.

‘I…err…don’t know what you mean.’ My shaking hand makes my china cup clatter as I place it back on the coffee table.

‘Anyone ever told you you’re a shit liar?’ He chuckles, looking at me not with annoyance, but affection.

‘Yes, actually,’ I giggle. I’m giggling? Did he spike my tea? Why am I acting all weird?

‘Well, I suppose it's a good quality. And I’m guessing you’d tell me if I needed to know, right?’ he asks, is face flitting back to serious.

‘Right.’ I nod.

‘Well, then it seems I’ll just have to trust you.’ He lingers his eyes over my face, making me blush again. Why the hell do I keep blushing? I never blush. But then I’m normally trashed when I chat to men.

‘Why do you get so uptight at work anyway? Why do you even care so much?’ I ask, unable to stop myself. It’s weird.

He sighs heavily. ‘The only reason I get so uptight about that place is because I want it to be the best. I want the residents to be well looked after.’

That’s really nice of him, but he must have ulterior motives. No one can be that nice.

‘But why?’ I press.