One
It was the usual Wednesday evening routine -- straight off the train and into the Duke of Wellington. Known locally as 'The Welly', it was the nearest pub to the station and I had become an expert in beating the rush as every thirsty commuter seemed to make a beeline there on the way home.
A mixture of knowing which carriage to use and fast walking meant I was usually through the gate and onto Station Approach ahead of the others. That night was no exception and I found myself in front of a hitherto empty bar a mere ninety seconds after stepping down from the train.
Trinity was behind the bar with her back to me, tidying the bottles, no doubt dreading the coming rush. I watched her for a moment, her lank hair hanging down her back in a loose ponytail, flabby arms wobbling as she reached up to put a bottle of gin on a high shelf. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of me in the mirror and turned towards the bar. I was aware of the usual build-up of customers alongside me as I took in her red eyes and a strained expression on her face. Oh dear, what had happened to the poor lass this time?
Seeing her demeanour, I attempted to liven things up. "Hi Trini -- Wednesday early-evening usual please!"
Without a word she went about making my spritzer and there was no sign of her normally talkative nature and bubbly persona. She barely managed a grunt as I offered my payment card to the machine and she turned to the next customer.
Trish, the assistant manageress, saw the puzzled look I gave Trini's retreating back and shook her head at me. "Give me five minutes to see to this lot, Alice -- I'm off at six thirty. Grab your usual table and I'll be over." She rolled her eyes and I left the bar wondering what the hell was going on.
It was my weekly job to get to the pub nice and early and blag the best table in the house, ready for the Pub Quiz later in the evening. It was nice to sit and catch up with my social media for an hour and nurse my spritzer until Mags and Heidi arrived after seeing their kids to bed. We were utterly useless in the Quiz, but it had been a weekly ritual since we were all single and we enjoyed the catch-up and the frisson of excitement as the results were read out. The whole pub would rejoice and cheer loudly if we managed to avoid bottom place; let's just say there hadn't been much cheering for quite a few weeks.
And just to clarify, Mags and Heidi were very much attached, but yours truly was not. I wasn't exactly celibate, but a pretty unpleasant bust-up a year or so earlier had left me a little disillusioned and not exactly looking for a long-term commitment. I was still the right side of thirty, so there was no rush and I never envied Mags' and Heidi's harassed looks as they hurried into the pub after holding down full-time jobs and seeing to the needs of one and two toddlers respectively.
One by one the usual suspects were served, downed their drinks in double-quick time and headed home to an evening of domestic bliss. A few early birds for the Quiz settled in and I got some friendly nods from what could hardly be called our competitors, since we obviously did not compete.
As the rush died down, Trish made her way over, eyes rolling once more. "She'll be the bloody death of me, that Trinity." Huffing and puffing, she sat down opposite me and took a long pull from her pint of lager.
Poor Trini. She was a lovely lass, but completely downtrodden and firmly under the heel of a delightful 'gentleman' called Wayne. He had an addiction for putting his not inconsiderable wage as a scaffolder on equine quadrupeds. The ones he backed invariably had less chance of winning a race that me and the girls had of winning the Quiz. To help pay for his mounting debts, Trini worked all day as an Estate Agent's clerk in town and as soon as she finished there, she crossed the street to the Welly to begin her second job.
Wayne's reputation around town was positively toxic and luckily for us, he never frequented the Welly, which despite being a little run-down and faded was way too upmarket for him. Besides, if he was in the pub in which his wife worked, she could see what he was up to and given the nefarious deals he was usually involved in, he really didn't want that, however much he ruled over her.
Dreading what was coming, I took a drink. "So what's he been up to this time?"
Trish sighed. "I think I speak for us all when I say that I am delighted to announce that Mr. Wayne Terrence Jones has finally left dear Trinity, buggered off back to Wales and is apparently shacked up with a girl that is barely legal, but is unfortunately living proof that he is still fertile."
Despite wanting to laugh at Trish's inimitable deadpan, I grimaced. "Oh, poor Trini. To think she won't have to put up with a domineering, sleazy, drug and gambling addict with a debt the size of a small banana republic anymore." I glanced across at her, now listlessly wiping down the bar, her usually sparkling grey eyes red-rimmed and dead-looking behind her thick glasses. As well as the wattles of flesh hanging from her arms, her chins wobbled and her heavy boobs threatened to knock glasses and bottles from the bar as she worked.
Trish shook her head. "Hopefully she'll soon realise what an absolute c-word he's been and once she no longer feels that toxic little worm in her gut, she'll start to sort herself out." She looked over her shoulder as Trini gave another customer a fixed, rictus grin and went about serving her. "Bloody hell, Alice -- I was at school with her and she was bloody gorgeous. Could have had any lad in the county eating out of her hand. At least she could until she went on a bloody school trip to Wales and got knocked up by that verminous little turd. I always wished for her sake he'd leave her when she lost the baby, but the little shit moved back here with her just to torment us all."
I was shocked. I knew Trish was only a year older than me and therefore Trini must be as well. I had grown up and gone to school in a neighbouring town, so I hadn't really socialised with her and the other girls until I had moved in my early twenties when I joined Heidi's company. "Bloody hell, I always assumed Trini was in her late thirties!"
She blew out her cheeks. "Amazing what lack of self-esteem can do to you, eh? Years in the clutches of someone who puts you down all the time, tells you how worthless and ugly you are. She told me once he wanted her to lose her looks so she wouldn't be able to run off with anyone else." She picked up her phone and pressed a few buttons and flicked her finger sideways. She held it up to me. "Me and Trini Watson - as she was then - down in Brighton. Seventeen, we were."
Trish was obviously still the same -- a pretty little blonde with a winning smile. I swallowed hard at sight of the bright-eyed, slim girl with a lovely gamine grin waving at the camera, lustrous jet-black hair tumbling down almost to her waist, which was wasp-like and svelte. I had to bite my lip as I glanced at the bar and tried to imagine what had transformed her into the sad sight she was today. The only thing I recognised were her eyes.
I handed the phone back to Trish and she took it with tears in her eyes. "Three months later, she comes back from a weekend in Cardiff, glowing about this great bloke. Three months after that, she starts showing and the next thing we know she's married to him, he's living up here and she's miscarried."
She took a long drink and sighed as she put her phone away. We turned to pleasanter topics for a few minutes until she finished her drink. "Sorry to have burdened you with it, Alice, but I needed a shoulder to cry on."
I held out a hand and took hers. "Hey, she's your friend and there's still a good lass in there somewhere. We'll look out for her, yeah?"
She gripped my hand, trying to hold back tears. "Thanks Alice. Pardon my French, but If I ever see that cunt round here again..." She shook her head once more as if ridding him from her thoughts. "Never mind, he won't be bothering her again, so that's something."