As Joy walked along the line of shops she felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman solely because of the amount of bags she was holding. Unfortunately the only person that had made any big mistakes was herself in wearing a pair of high heels to go shopping in. Her feet were in agony and she was seriously considering buying another pair of shoes just to be able to sit down and take her boots off. When she had left the house that morning the last thing she had expected to be doing was having a spending spree and wandering around a city centre in heels.
The previous day her husband had been out for the duration, failing to tell her that he was going to bag yet another Munro with his mate and spend the evening demolishing a bottle of malt whisky with him. She had been so annoyed at his lack of communication and the state that he had staggered home in that she had decided it was her turn to go AWOL and give him a taste of his own medicine. Therefore, she had set off early that morning with no real inkling where she was going; just knowing that she wanted him to wonder where she was.
Putting the radio up loud, she sped off without a clue as to where to go or what to do. She had just driven, feeling a little better with every mile that her car ate up. After driving for what seemed like hours, over a hundred miles had been consumed and she found herself on the outskirts of Aberdeen. Thinking there was nothing more therapeutic than a spot of shopping, she drove into the city centre and parked the car, determined to have some fun of her own for a change.
Now, as she tottered along the pavement, she had had her pleasure and was now regretting her spur of the moment decision. Not because of the money she had spent but because the balls of her feet felt like they were on fire and if she did not sit down soon she was going to be forced to take her boots off and walk along the rest of Union Street in her stocking soles. It was then she spotted a pub on the corner with a sign boasting that they served Douwe Egberts coffee. She could not see through the frosted glass to see if it was the type of bar that she would normally frequent but at that point she could not have cared less as long as she was able to sit down and maybe even slip her boots off.
She climbed the three stone steps to gain entry to the pub and pushed the door open with her shoulder, unable to use her bag laden hands. Distressingly, she just about fell into the bar as a flat capped old gentleman had chosen just that moment to remember he was married and that he should go home to his wife for his tea. Fortunately, she managed to keep her balance as she clattered through the door but her noisy entrance caused everyone in the bar to turn round and stare at her. Red in the face, she spotted the optics and concentrated on them as she made her way towards the overweight man wearing a Scotland rugby shirt who stood behind the large, old-fashioned wooden bar. She had known as soon as she had seen the man in the flat cap that this bar was not for her and the wolf whistles and raucous comments that accompanied her journey to the bar confirmed this for her. Determined to have a seat, she ignored the drunken rabble and waited for her turn to be served.
"Can I have a white coffee please," she asked, trying to recapture some of her dignity.
"Sorry hen, the machines knackered. I could boil you a kettle if you want I've got a jar of Nescafe." The Scottish rugby fan offered.
"Erm, no. No thanks." The thought of an instant coffee hand-made by the man in front of her was not an appealing one. Making up her mind that she was definitely not walking any further, she decided to have a glass of red wine instead. She soon wished she had not when the barman opened a small bottle and poured it, in its entirety, into a small wine glass. He then gingerly handed it over to her trying his best not to spill any of the dark red liquid.
Joy paid for her drink and then turned to see where she could sit down. In the corner of the bar there was a television perched up high on a shelf. Underneath it stood the crowd of men she had almost fallen into when she entered the dark, dingy bar. They were all standing, pint glasses in hand, watching Sky Sports News, waiting for the full time whistles to be blown around the country.
There were a few tables scattered around the floor of the bar with some booths positioned along the side of the wall. Not wishing to be sat too near to the crowd of men, she chose one of the booths and threw her bags on to a chair and then slid her way along the opposite side, her back to the lager drinking football fans.
Glad to be sitting down, she sighed contentedly taking the weight off her feet. As she sipped carefully at her glass of wine she glanced around the room. It was a typical working man's bar with stained yellow walls coated in the nicotine from years of tobacco smoke circling the room. The floor looked like it was still the original wood and the tables and chairs which sat on it would not have looked out of place on the Antiques Roadshow.
Joy knew there were a lot of eyes on her as she could hear some of the men's supposedly complimentary remarks directed towards to her. However, even although she felt a bit like the entertainment at a children's party, it was not long before she felt herself relax in the odd bar. Enjoying the warmth, the wine and not having to walk, she sat back and watched as a young solitary guy played pool at the opposite end of the bar.
She reckoned the pool player was in his late twenties, which would put him at roughly 10 years younger than she was. He was tall and slim and wore a white t-shirt with a red slogan on it, which she could not quite make out. The only words she could decipher were Vote For but who exactly she should have been putting her cross next to remained a mystery as the wearer leant over and potted a yellow ball perfectly into the corner pocket. Joy thought the younger man was good looking although she would have preferred him clean shaven rather than with the 3 day old stubble that covered his chin but that did not stop her imagining his beard scraping roughly across her chin. With nothing else to do, she sat contentedly watching the different coloured balls clacking together and rolling over the green baize. At one point the chap bent over in front of her and she secretly took delight in casting her eyes over his firm buttocks. The sight sent her into a day dream as she imagined the good looking man showing her how to hold a cue and bending her over the table.
As she continued to drink the wine she knew she should not finish the glass of merlot, knowing that she was going to have to make the dreaded drive back home but the warmth of the pub, the melodic clicking of the balls and the thought of the pool players body tight up against her as she had a firm grip of his cue, enticed Joy into drinking more and more of the intoxicating liquor.
Disappointingly, the man potted the black ball and drained his pint glass, obviously getting ready to leave the pub. Joy looked up at him as he passed her table to try and get a better look at his face before he left. Unexpectedly, he winked cheekily at her and she felt her cheeks burn and her stomach lurch. Joy quickly let her head fall to her chest and found her thumb nail to be extremely interesting. Her entire body had been enveloped in a rush of heat under his gaze, which had resulted in her feeling awkward and wishing she had not drank us much of her wine as she had. Deciding it was also time for her to leave the pub she started getting her things together when, without warning, another glass of wine appeared in front of her and the good looking pool player slid into the seat in front of her, now holding a full pint of lager.
"Hi there. Mind if I join you?"
Joy looked into the smiling eyes of the stranger in front of her.
"No, not at all. Thanks for the wine but I am driving I won't be able to drink it."
"You're kidding, right? You'll already be over the limit with that," he said motioning towards her now empty glass. "You're driving nowhere tonight little lady." With that said, he pushed the glass closer towards her. "I'm Phillip by the way."
"Joy."
"No need for the sarcasm." Phillip replied, slightly taken aback.
Joy broke into a laugh, "That's my name, not sarcasm."
Phillip smiled endearingly at her and she noticed his strong white teeth. "Oops. Sorry but I have to admit it is a Joy to meet you."
Joy felt her face flush again and she shook her head, "I'm sorry, I am not used to strangers buying me drinks. What are you up to?"
"Me? I'm not up to anything. Can't a guy buy a gorgeous woman a drink when he wants to?" Phillip asked clutching his hands beneath his chin trying to look beseeching.
"But you're not buying a gorgeous woman a drink. You're buying a drink for a woman who is probably old enough to be your mum and who, incidentally, is unable to accept your kind offer." Joy pushed the glass back towards him.
"You're hardly old enough to be my mum and you're nothing like her, that's for sure. For one she would never be in a pub on her own and for another she wouldn't be ogling men as they played pool."
