DRIFTING

Two unhappy people meet in a pub...

The Cod and Carp perched sedately next to the River Sinjun not so far from the East Coast was the kind of pub where lost souls might discover that life had a meaning after all, and that’s what James Swift thought rather too moodily for his own good when he spotted Laura Todd sitting on her own at a table in the corner. It was lunch time and he’d had a painful funeral to attend.
He might have ignored Laura but for one thing and that was she seemed (from a distance at least) to be crying and there was one thing that was bound to tug at his heart strings and that was a pretty woman weeping. So, without giving it a second thought, he made his way to where she was sitting and indicated the chair opposite her.
“Is this free?” he asked.
She looked up at him and tried to smile through her tears.
“So far,” she managed to say, “but don’t mind me. I’ve had one hell of a day.”
“I’m in the pits too,” he replied, “a widower at thirty three. But it’s my problem, not yours.”
“I’m divorced at thirty one,” she told him, “and that puts me firmly on the shelf, don’t you think? All I want to do is drown my tears in this stuff,” she indicated her glass which c0ntained a fairly clear liquid.
“Water?” he asked, hoping to sound amusing.
“Gin and slim,” she replied, trying to show that she appreciated his attempt at cheering her up.
“Can I get you another?” he asked.
“A double gin and no slim if you like.” Her reply was only half serious After all, this man in the seat opposite her was a total stranger and anyway she was off men for the duration.
But he made his way to the bar and returned with three glasses minutes later. His was beer and the other two contained gin.
“This one,” he held one up, “is a double and this one,” he indicated the other glass, “is a treble. You choose, or if life just isn’t worth the time of day have them both,”
That surprised her. Jack, her husband until that very day, hadn’t thought her worth a single drink let alone what looked like the best part of a bottle.
“Really?” she asked.
“Well, you look as if you could do with a pick-me-up, and underneath that layer of salty stuff coming out of your eyes you’re really very pretty.”
“You think so? I was once, and then I hit my thirties,” she half-sobbed, “and the guy I thought would want me for ever ran off with a teeny beauty and divorced me.”
“That’s bad enough, but my story might just be worse because the love of my life, and she was that, I‘m sure of it, chose last week to get knocked down crossing the road. I buried her this morning and this pint is in memory of her. And if you think I’m on the pull, looking for a pretty young divorcee, then you’re wrong.”
“I didn‘t think anything of the sort!” she protested.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
And he felt his sorrow genuinely, knowing that he must have sounded like the back end of a side of bacon.
Laura smiled at him. A warm smile, he thought as he noticed it, how in the name of anything could anyone want to divorce a creature like this?
“It’s all right,” she said quietly, “And all this gin. I don’t want it.”
“Choose the one that you want and I’ll offer the other to that old bird over there,” he smiled, indicating an elderly woman nursing an empty glass and dressed inappropriately for summer’s day in a heavy coat.
“I’ll have the double then,” she said, and he carried the other glass across the bar room to a woman who looked as though she might welcome it.
“That’s made her day,” he grinned when he returned to Laura.
“And it’s kind of you,” she said.
“Have you got anything to do?” he asked.
Now what’s coming? she asked herself, frowning slightly.
“What’s on your mind!” she asked.
“Well I’m not the sort of bloke who wants to spend eternity in a pub and I’ve got a small dinghy on the river. Just a rowing boat but I called her The Golden Vanity after a song from the olden days that my late father used to play when I was a kid, We could row a down river for a bit, then struggle back up and catch the last drink of the day back in here!”
“Floating on the river? Sounds fun!”
“Drink up, then. I tell you what, I’ll buy a couple of pies or pasties from the bar and we can have a feast as we head towards the sea!”
“Not on the sea, though, I hope, if it’s just a small boat!”she protested.
“Hey! I’m not mad and I’m no sailor!” he grinned, “just a few yards and back again!”
“Okay. And make mine a pasty,” she said.
“Will do!”
When he returned from the bar carrying a small bag containing their pasties she was ready to go off with him.
“You know,” he said, “you really are lovely. And I’m not trying to get into your no doubt fragrant underwear. I really do you think you’re lovely.”
“An old bird in her thirties,” she protested.
“I’m in my my thirties as well and I’m far from old. After all, age is only a number between birth and death.”
“Don’t be so morbid.”
“But it is. Sheila, my just buried wife, was twenty nine. A number too close to birth to deserve to die, but that’s what happened. Come on, before I join you with the crying game!”
He led her out of the pub and down a narrow almost overgrown path towards the river, and his small rowing boat bobbing on the water.
“Is it big enough for two?” she teased.
“Just you see, come on! It’s the mighty Golden Vanity!””
It was a struggle, but he helped her into the boat. At first she was afraid, and then when it bobbed about as she transferred her weight into it she squealed.
It was early afternoon and after a traumatic morning both Laura and James sat facing each other, and he picked up the one and only oar.
“Just a few yards,” he murmured.
“And this,” she smiled, and she switched her phone on and selected a medley of popular songs which she set to play quietly.
“For background, and songs from my long lost youth,” she murmured.
“You’re still young, silly, Here, have a pasty while they’re still warm.”
And then it happened. What with the drinks in the pub and the food combined with the gently rocking of the little boat, and she closed her eyes and slipped into a gentle and long deserved peaceful sleep.
Dave looked at her, and smiled. He felt that way too. The funeral only that morning had been a sober affair and, well, he hadn’t had much real sleep recently anyway.
And so he joined her in real repose, pulling the oar out of the water to keep it from falling out of his hands and into the river.
Then it was that the tide played its part as it withdrew, pulling the little boat along with it. The River Sinjun wasn’t much of a trickle anyway, and with increasing speed the waters pulled The Golden Vanity out towards its mother, the sea. And two weary people slept under the sun.
And unwittingly that human cargo travelled with it.
Until they were awoken by an amplified voice shouting “Put your weapons down! You are under arrest! This is the Border Force acting on behalf of the UK government and unless you surrender we will use force to arrest you according to illegal migration legislation!”

© Peter Rogerson, 31.12.23

Reviews

[Coffeeprincess]

sorry, I meant, fragrant underwear.

[Coffeeprincess]

Lovely story. Like the bit about the "fragrant underwater."

[Peter Rogerson]

I understand. Fragrant underwear is rather more appealing than fragrant underwater!!