Chapter 2 of Tears For The Wicked

Chapter Two

Night time arrived, the crescent moon taking over from the sun to guard over the cool sky. Jack had returned home from work, he was tired but happy. His dinner waited for him on the dining table. It was his favourite: tender steak with chunky homemade chips, that had been oven baked in goose fat and beer battered onion rings. He had eaten while mum and I had carried on with unpacking boxes for the kitchen.

I had decided that I wasn’t ever moving again. It was too stressful, especially with mum, she had to do everything in a certain order but that order made no sense to anyone but herself and then she got frustrated when we got confused. Thankfully she was in a good mood at the minute and was more concerned about the kitchen décor than the unpacking.

“I think it should be blue.”

“What should?” I asked her.

“The kitchen. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”

I sighed, “Mum, I was listening but I thought you meant a certain item in the kitchen, not the kitchen itself and no I don’t think it should be blue.”

“Why?”

“God, I don’t know. I think it would look strange, especially a dark blue.”

“I didn’t mean dark blue.”

“Well then any sort of blue. It wouldn’t look right.”

She stood up from the box she was rummaging through and put her hands on her hips, blowing up at the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes.

“Okay then, what do you think?”

I thought for a minute and came up with a great idea. I shared it with her.

“Well, you like rock’n’roll and Elvis so why not a fifties American diner theme? We could have black and white tiles on the floor and get some of those tile transfers so that those tiles, on the wall there, could be black and white too.”

I looked at the tiles that covered the bottom part of the walls over the kitchen work tops, black and white would be much better than the yellow aged tint they had to them at the minute.

Mum smiled, “I’m liking this idea so far.”

“Yeah, we can have white walls, one red just to add a bit of colour and a breakfast bar with red stools around it. All the other bits, like the kettle, toaster etcetera, could be red too.”

“Red?”

“Well its better than whatever shade of green it is at the minute.”

“Mint green.”

“Yeah. Oh and for place mats we could have old vinyl records!”

“Okay you’re going over the top now.”

“No I’m not. It would look so cool!”

Mum rolled her eyes, “Well, we’ll see.”

 

 Once Jack had eaten his fill he kissed me lovingly and washed up his plate. I watched him fondly as he stood over by the sink, his long black hair curled over his shoulders and midway down his back.  The muscles on his arms tensed as he scrubbed at the plate, the colourful, full sleeve tattoo on one slender arm warping and stretching with the movement. I caught a glimpse of his back tattoos beneath his tight black vest. God I could jump on him right now, how irresistible, I thanked my lucky stars that he was mine.

I had met him on a dating website for alternative people, you know, people who were a little bit different: rockers, goths, emos and so on. We messaged each other for all of one night before he asked me to be his girlfriend, we hadn’t even met! Eventually I said yes, even though he lived a good three hundred miles away and he travelled up on the train to see me a few days later. We carried on like this for a few months then he asked me to marry him, obviously the answer was yes. He moved up here to live with mum and me. We were married not long after that and it was the best day of my life. Very stressful seeing as how everything was late, including me, the bride, but it was worth it in the end.

Once we had unpacked most of the boxes, put everything where it should be, and I’d stopped drooling over my husband, mum and I sat down to join him at the table, mugs of tea in hand. We needed a break, all this moving and unpacking was exhausting.

Jack looked up at us, “Why don’t we go and have a well-deserved drink at that bar across the road?”

I stared at him, “Yeah me and mum deserve it but you haven’t done any unpacking yet.”

He stared back at me “I work, thank you very much. I deserve one too.”

Mum shook her head. “Now, now let’s not argue on our first night in our new home,” She smiled, “The Captains a nice little place, very old fashioned in some respects and Sid’s lovely.”

“Who?” Jack asked.

“The barman.”

“Ah right thought you had a new man.”

Mum laughed, “No thank you and certainly not Sid. He’s a nice man but he’s not that nice.” She stood up; taking the mugs to the sink then collected our coats from the hook on the kitchen door.  We put them on quickly then left the house.

 

 

Upon entering the little bar, I looked around. Mum had been here many times but Jack and I hadn’t.

In the small entrance room there stood a huge wooden pool table, right in the centre. It was surrounded by a group of people, mainly men, both young and old. Fifty pence coins lay on one side of it, tokens from the men to symbolise who played the winner of the current game, and the next and so on. A lonely, colourful juke box stood by itself in a far corner. Sinatra’s soothing voice played, softly through its little speakers, filling the air around the room.

On the wall opposite the door we had entered through, was a large archway that opened into another, much larger room. We walked through it. It was darker in there.

The two rooms had nothing in common; the other room was modern and bright while this larger, darker one seemed to belong to a different building, from an earlier time. The solid oak bar took up two of the walls. It had dimly lit tiffany-style lamps on both ends. Behind the bar were rows of optics for different spirits and alcoholic beverages, half of which I had never even heard of. Next to them stood a wide column where a board stated the special offers for the week and underneath it were baskets full of crisps, pork scratching’s and jars of cockles.

Booths sat alongside the two remaining walls that weren’t taken up by the bar. The seats had been covered in a maroon fake leather material. They looked overly padded and extremely comfortable. Dark wooden tables and chairs filled the space in the middle of the room, they didn’t look as cosy as the padded booths though.

The three of us walked over to the bar. The man behind it spotted us and walked over. He was a large man with tiny eyes in comparison to the width of his large round face, his large nose leaned slightly to the one side and his hair was brown with grey peeking through at the roots. It was thinning quite dramatically and receding back away from his face.

He wore a navy blue, short-sleeved shirt that was a little tight around his ample belly; a few of the buttons seemed to be having trouble keeping the two sides of the overly stretched material together. His black trousers on the other hand were perfectly fitted. He limped slightly and wheezed noisily as he walked towards us.

“Alright Jan, how’s it going, what can I get ya love?” he smiled, perfect white teeth shining in the dim, florescent light.

Mum smiled back,

“Hey Sid long time no see, how’s your lot?”

Sid let out a sigh and shook his head, then chuckled, his large belly jiggling. I was suddenly reminded of the poem ‘The Night Before Christmas’ and had to stifle a giggle.

“Wife’s a nagging and the girls must o’ been standin’ in pig s**t cos they are growin’ up too fast and all three can spend my money ‘for I even got it out me bank,” He chuckled again.

We smiled at him, mum was right, he seemed really nice.

“Sidney Smyth, I heard that you cheeky beggar!” It was a woman’s voice. She appeared around the side of the bar, tall, blonde, slim and pretty with a face full make-up and looking like a certain glamorous child’s doll. You know the one.

Her silky hair was tied back into a neat French plait that lay over her tight, black polo-neck sweater and ended near the waist of her evener tighter, leopard print mini skirt. Not my idea of fashion but hey ho, whatever floats your boat I guess.

She tutted at Sid,

“My husband the comedian”

“I am funny dear.”

“You’re more like a fat old ring leader!”

“Hey, less of the old!” He replied.

Everyone laughed, including the customers who were sitting on stools around the bar.

Sid’s wife tapped him affectionately on the shoulder before leaving with a dish cloth she had found under the bar. She must have spotted a spill on one of the tables.

Mum gave Sid our order: one pint of lager for herself, a peach schnapps for me and an Amaretto and coke for Jack. She always bought me a peach schnapps, to be honest I didn’t really like it but I didn’t want to upset her and plus it had turned in to a tradition now every time she bought a round.

Sid was pouring Mum’s lager into the glass when he next spoke,

“You jus’ moved into that place over the road aint ya?”

“Yes, the end house,” Mum replied.

Sid winced and took in a loud, sharp breath, “Well you lot best be careful and keep ya whits about ya with that ghost around.”

He placed the drinks on a maroon beer mat on top of the bar, Jan handed him some cash.

I stood up straighter, “What ghost?” I asked. I really loved anything to do with the supernatural: ghosts, aliens, etcetera. So much so that sometimes I ended up scaring myself. I can remember a few times where I had watched some scary film and ended up with my head under the blankets for most of the night. Everyone would be asleep and my imagination would be running wild. I should stop watching them really but I found them so intriguing.

“That woman on the top of the stairs,” Sid answered.

Mum rolled her eyes at him but he drew an imaginary cross over his heart with one chubby finger,

“No, on my life,” He wiped his sweaty forehead with one equally sweaty arm, “The old tenants swore to the Almighty himself that a wench wearing white often stood at the top of them stairs of yours.”

Jack smirked, “Could be interesting when I go to the loo with no clothes on in the middle of the night, this ghost might get a scare herself.”

I couldn’t help but giggle and shoved him playfully; he shoved me back before kissing me passionately. Maybe a little too passionately for our current location.

“Oi oi lovers,” Laughed Sid, “Don’t get giving these oldens in ‘ere too much excitement, they might keel over and I don’t want no ghosts haunting this place,” He leaned in towards us and carried on in a low whisper, his hand around his mouth, “Especially not some of these grumpy old farts.”

Jack sniggered loudly.

Mum shook her head, her short, red hair lifting slightly, “You men are bloody awful!” She exclaimed.