Tequila & Tea Bags (2 page)

Who
is
this arsehole!? Who made him king of the kingdom?

‘What incentive thing are you even talking about?’

He smirks. ‘So you’re honestly telling me you’re not here for the council incentive? You’re not trying to volunteer the most hours so you can get a free holiday?’

‘Holiday?’

I could get to Mexico. I could meet up with Janey. She told me the job was in the bag as long as I could make it there. I could get everything I want.

‘Actually…yes, yes I am.’

***

So I’ve found out the skinny. Basically their council is so desperate for volunteers to work in the care home that they’ve come up with this incentive programme. The person who clocks the most hours this month wins a holiday of their choice. It’s bloody made for me!

When I get home I borrow Elsie’s laptop, assuring her it’s for research, and log onto Facebook. Well, once I’ve held the router out of her bedroom window. Apparently the village’s connection is dicey. Proving to me we’re at the end of the world.  

I open up a new message and type to Janey. Its bloody hard one-handed.

Hey hunnie,

So I’ve arrived in this twee little village and met Elsie. She’s worse than I remember – all preachy and self-righteous. I’m clearly not going to survive here.

Anyway, GREAT NEWS – it looks like I’m going to be able to get my way to Mexico! Have to do loads of volunteering, but you wait, at the end of the month I’ll be able to join you and we can be the best club reps ever. Save me some men!

I flick through her page and find photos of her first night out. There are gorgeous men, cocktails and sun. I NEED to get there.

***

I walk down into the tiny sitting room two hours later, feeling like I could climb the walls. I’ve never been so bored in my life. She doesn’t even have a TV upstairs. Just the one in the sitting room. I find her on the sofa reading the bible while stroking a grey cat I recognise from the photos. I mean, really? The bible?

‘Hey, hun,’ I say cheerily, pulling all the strength of my face muscles to smile.

‘Alright,’ she smiles, looking slightly suspicious.

‘So… Is there a pub or something around here? There must be some kind of night life?’

It can’t just be fields and fields of nothing. God, just thinking about the isolation makes me feel suffocated.

‘Of course, silly!’ She giggles. ‘We should go!’ She jumps off the sofa and starts putting her boots on. The cat hisses in protest. ‘Oh, I forgot, this is Marbles.’

Oh, that makes sense. That cat glares at me.

‘Let’s go.’

Well, that was easy. Maybe she’s not such a bore after all. I put a quick swipe of lipstick on and grab my coat and boots.

We walk the short distance in awkward silence. When we walk into the pub I glance around at the few middle aged couples sitting on burgundy stools, nursing pints of bitter and wine the colour of cat piss.
This
is the only night life? Dear God, kill me now.

Elsie smiles at the barman, a balding man in his late forties with a ginormous forehead. She grabs at my arm and practically skips to the bar with me.

‘Nah then, Phil,’ she beams. ‘I’d like you to meet my cousin, Rose.’ She actually places me in front of him like I’m on show. To be fair, I probably give her some extra cool points, which I’m positive she needs.

‘Nice to meet you, pet.’ He briefly smiles, looking stressed as he dries some glasses.

‘You too,’ I say quickly, already gagging for some alcohol to make this disastrous life move seem a little more entertaining. ‘I’ll have a southern comfort and lemonade. And Elsie…a lemonade?’ I turn to her.

‘Actually,’ she says, rolling her eyes, ‘I’ll have a red wine.’

No way! The Virgin Mary drinks?

‘Of course, ladies,’ he nods, setting about getting them for us.

‘You drink?’ I ask, completely taken aback. ‘I didn’t think nuns drank?’

She smiles and it looks strangely mischievous. ‘Well, I’m not a nun
yet,
and anyway, they have communion wine, don’t they?’

I get a quick insight into what fun Elsie would be like. I
have
to release her. Was she joking when she said she was becoming a nun? Surely they’re all holier than now.

‘So anyway,’ I grin, feeling now is the best time to broach the subject. ‘What’s with the neighbour’s and the loud sex?’

She looks back at me confused, her eyes creasing so much she almost looks a bulldog.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Oh, come on,’ I giggle. ‘I know your room’s not attached to theirs, but you can't be deaf. They were fucking so hard the walls were quacking!’

‘Rose, don’t be so crass,’ she snaps. ‘And anyway, you must be mistaken. Those neighbours are Mavis and Bernie. They’re in their early sixties. Hardly the type to quake walls.’

No way. Horny old guys? You’ve got to give it to them; they’re keeping their marriage alive. I’m weirdly impressed. But still more horrified.

‘I know what I heard.’ I smile smugly.

‘Well, don’t be spreading vicious gossip like that around here.’ She lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘She owns the bakers.’

‘Ooh, I can imagine the headlines now. Local baker caught with husband’s hands on her buns!’ I roll my eyes. ‘Hardly front page stuff, Els. And anyway, it’s not a vicious rumour.’

‘Whatever, Rose,’ she says harshly. ‘Please remember that this is a small village. Any lies of yours will follow you around.’

Lies? She thinks I’m lying? Why the hell would I lie about something so random? God, you lie about eating the last fruit pastel when you’re seven and you’re branded a liar for life.

She turns to Phil, clearly trying to change the subject.

‘You seem stressed tonight, Phil.’ she enquires. She’s always been far too nosey. Even as a seven year old she insisted she asked my neighbour why a different man’s car, other than her husband’s, was parking in their drive.  

‘I am, pet,’ he nods. ‘That damn Rachel keeps calling in sick and I’ve worked all day without a break.’

My ears perk up. He needs a barmaid? I could get a little job here and get some spending money. Buy some little bikinis. I saw a red polka dot one on Asos that I know would look hot on me.

‘I could work for you,’ I blurt out, immediately sticking my boobs out.

He looks back warily. ‘Do you have any experience, love?’

Do my boobs have
no
effect in this village?

‘Well, obviously,’ I laugh. ‘Loads of it.’

Although I’m sure drinking in lots of bars and dancing on them probably doesn’t count, but he’s not to know that. He still looks unconvinced.

‘I’ve worked in all of the top bars and clubs in London. Plus, I’ve done loads of promo work.’ I look around at the domino players. ‘I could really get this place jumping.’

That’s not a complete lie. I have worked in them, but as a dancer or one of those annoying girls who sells shots to drunk men while they ogle my boobs and try to grab my arse.

‘Really?’ he asks, cocking his head to the side.

Elsie looks at me questionably and I smile my brightest, most confident smile.

‘Well, then you’re hired,’ he sighs, throwing the tea towel over his shoulder. ‘As long as you can start now.’

I jump up onto the bar and swing my legs over it. He raises his eyebrows and opens the bar hatch, as if to show how unnecessary that was. Oops.

He quickly runs through the till with me, as if I’m launching a space ship, and I try to memorize how he pours the pints of bitter. It really doesn’t look that hard.

‘Right’, he says. ‘Here comes your first customer.’

I look up to see a God of a man walking towards the bar. He’s got dark brown hair which falls into messy loose curls around his face. He’s got stubble that looks like he hasn’t shaved in about a week, and he’s wearing a checked shirt with baggy jeans. Oh my God. He looks so rough and dangerous.
Swoon!

‘Nah then,’ he smiles. ‘You’re new.’ He cocks his head to one side as if challenging me, a mischievous smile on his face.

I can't help but copy the gesture. ‘Yep, I’m Rose.’ I smile, lifting my hand up to awkwardly wave at him. He grabs it and kisses the back of my hand, shooting tingles through my stomach.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Rose,’ he says slowly, eventually letting go of my hand. ‘I’m James.’

And I’m in love.

I notice Elsie roll her eyes and sink a lot of her wine.

‘What can I get you?’ I ask as seductively as I can, leaning in, very aware that my boobs are pushed together. God, if he asked for a quick shag I’d be out of here in an instant.

He smiles as if knowing this. ‘I’ll have a pint of bitter ta, Rose.’

God, the way he says my name is so sexy. He really pronounces the R.

Concentrate, Rose. Try to remember how to do this bitter malarkey. I grab a pint glass and start pumping the beer out, just like Phil did. Only it seems really foamy. Really fucking foamy in fact. Okay, don’t panic. It’ll calm down. I look up to gauge James’s reaction, but he’s looking a bit concerned. Okay, keep pumping. It’s overflowing into the tray underneath, but it’s still so bloody foamy! What the fuck is wrong with it?!

I place the pint down in front of him as confidently as I can. He looks back at me in amusement.

‘On second thought, I’ll have a Becks. A
bottle
of Becks.’

I grit my teeth and roll my eyes, grabbing one out of the fridge and practically slam it down in front of him.

‘And one for your beautiful self, Rose,’ he says, clearly worried I’m offended.

I should refuse just on principle, but I could do with a drink.

‘Thanks, I’ll have a Bud,’ I reply, quickly taking one out of the fridge, flipping the lid off and gulping a few sips.

‘You like Bud, then, huh?’ He chuckles. ‘That’s what I’ll call you,’ he declares. ‘Rosebud.’

Oh great, a fucking nickname.

Elsie rolls her eyes again, seeming a bit tipsy now. ‘I’ll have another red wine while you’re at it,’ she declares, thrusting her glass into my hand.

Steady on, Elsie. She’ll be saying twenty Hail Mary’s before the night is up.

When I’ve filled her up and James has gone outside she beckons me over, hunching over as if she’s about to confess a secret.

‘Rose, don’t be thinking James is fit or anything,’ she warns, almost slurring. She’s a cheap date.

‘But he
is
fit.’ My eyes light up mischievously just at the thought of him.

‘I know, trust me I know. But he’s trouble. Everyone in the village knows about him. He has a
reputation
, if you know what I mean.’ She raises her eyebrows as if to hammer home how serious she is.

‘You mean he’s a good shag?’ I ask, taking pleasure in the way Elsie grimaces when I say shag.

‘I mean,’ she says sternly, ‘that he’s bad news. Trust me, stay away.’

Sounds like fun to me.

***

Wednesday 1
st
October

I walk up the hill to the care home, completely out of breath. I would have thought all those years of dancing would have left me fitter. I look down at the village below. From up here it looks idyllic. I know most people would probably love a view like this; the endless fields, the blue sky and the old brick cottages, but it just screams dull to me. It's too green, too boring. Plus it smells of cow shit.

‘I’m chuffed you’re showing so much enthusiasm towards volunteering,’ Elsie beams, seeming completely unphased by the hike we’ve just endured. I’m sweating out of every orifice.

I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, I just love helping people,’ I drool sarcastically. ‘And how do I get involved with this whole incentive thing?’

‘Oh, you heard about that,’ she says with suspicious eyes. ‘Here I was thinking you were just enjoying it.’ She smiles smugly, as if reading my thoughts completely.

‘Yeah, right,’ I grin.

We walk into the grey dull hallway of the care home. God, this place looks more depressing every time I come here. Only this time the reception desk is manned by a little blonde girl who can't be more than fifteen. She’s got huge eyes and big lips. She reminds me of a fish.

I think of the potentially tortuous day ahead. Well, it’ll be tortuous if that Will dickhead is here. I force a smile on my face and trudge through to the desk.

‘Alright, can I help you?’ the young girl smiles, eyeing me up and down suspiciously. Or maybe she’s just looking normally. With those eyes I can't tell. She looks over my outfit of hot pink jeans, black hoodie and biker boots. I was wrong. Definitely judgemental.

It occurs to me that she’s my competition. She must be volunteering here too. How unfair that she’s got the cushy job of receptionist when I’m stuck entertaining.

‘Just volunteering again. Is William about?’ I ask casually, flicking through a leaflet on how to spot signs of dementia.

‘He’s in’t lounge,’ she says while standing and leaning on one hip.

I narrow my eyes and look back at her with contempt. This little bitch is not going to steal my flight to Mexico. I’ll die before she wins it. Probably just wants to go to Disneyland. The teeny bopper. Minnie and Mickey have nothing on Mexico.

I say goodbye to Elsie, who heads upstairs to do some cleaning, and wander into the lounge looking around for him. I find him chatting to Peggy, dressed in light blue worn jeans with a V-neck jumper over an open collared white shirt. I can't help noticing that the sleeves are pushed up to just underneath his elbows, exposing his bronze muscly forearms. I shake the thought out of my head quickly. I must still be thinking of James. I need to get some and soon.

I take a discreet deep breath, not wanting him to see I’m affected, and walk over to him. I know he sees me behind him, but he deliberately ignores me and carries on talking to Peggy as if I don’t exist. What a bloody arsehole. With a flash of irritation I cough discreetly. Half of the residents turn around to stare at me. Maybe it wasn’t that discreet.

‘Ah, Rose.’ He smiles insincerely with revulsion in his eyes. ‘Back again.’

‘Yep, that’s me. Eager to please,’ I deadpan, my face cold and unsmiling.  

His forehead creases as he frowns. What the hell did I just say? Did it sound like a sexual innuendo? What is wrong with me? He’s probably already heard of my reputation as a tart.

‘Well, I’ll need you to complete an official form for the council incentive, but in the meantime you can start work. The hallway needs re-painting.’ He turns back to Peggy, chatting again as if I’m not here. As if he didn’t just ask me to paint the friggin’ hallway.

‘The hallway?’ I blurt out.

Paint? Me? Does he think I’m a painter and decorator? Surely he’s mistaken. I thought I was the entertainer. The job of a clown sounds far better suited to me.

He turns back around. ‘Yes, the h-a-l-l-w-a-y,’ he says slowly, as if I’m stupid.

I feel my jaw tense and my blood boil. What a prick. I hate being made to feel stupid. People assume just because of my cool hair and killer body that I’m some bimbo, but the truth is that I got A’s and B’s in my A-Levels. Just because I can't bear to keep a job in a boring as fuck office, people assume I must be a little thick. I think they’re the thickos for staying in a dumb job they hate. Where’s the logic there?

‘Where’s the paint?’ I ask, without moving a muscle. I don’t want him to think I’m unable to do it. I’m up for the challenge. I’ll show him. I’ll show this little prick.

‘There should be some in’t garage.’ He turns immediately back to Peggy, obviously dismissing me.

My fists clench and I feel actual steam coming out of my nose. Who
is
this guy? I hate him. I turn and start for the door, choosing to ignore his rudeness. I’ll only say something I’ll regret and I can't afford to be fired from this stupid job. I need that flight to Mexico. Just keep thinking of the sunshine.

I’m almost at the door when I hear it.

‘Rosie! Rosie!’ he calls.

I feel my blood boiling under the surface. I feel so hot I’m sure I could beat the temperature in hell right now. I
hate
when people call me Rosie. My name is not Rosie, it's Rose. I turn slowly to see him waving me back over. Like I’m some puppy. I take a deep calming breath. Keep cool, Rose. Don’t go ballistic. But it's like trying to reason with the hulk. My body is already reacting.

I storm back over to him, blood pumping through my veins. He looks up and starts slightly when he sees me. I must look as furious as I feel.

‘My name is Rose. Not Rosie. Please don’t change my name without my permission. It's very rude. Unless you’re happy with me calling you Willy?’ I finish my tirade, slightly out of breath, to realise that I’ve gathered quite a crowd. Did I just call him Willy? Oh God.  

William is looking at me, his eyes glowering with fury. I’ve humiliated him in front of the old people and I’m not even sorry. The guy’s a douche.

‘My sincere apologies, Rose,’ he snarls sarcastically. ‘Now get back to work.’

***

‘Can you believe that arsehole?’ I practically scream to Beth, the little fish girl from reception. I’ve roped her into helping me check out the paint situation in the garage. I kind of told her William said she had to help. Which isn’t a
massive
lie. She’s okay when you start chatting with her. At least she’s young enough to also find living in this village shit. She wanted to hear all about London. I was vague, as Watford is definitely no London.    

‘I’d say it sounds like a normal misunderstanding to me,’ she shrugs.

The poor girl has no idea how men work. They’re going to walk all over her.

‘Misunderstanding my arse,’ I snort.

I pull open the garage door and look at the mess of half used paint cans whilst trying to ignore the smell of dry rot. I swear if this was a real company health and safety would be all over this.

I run my hands over the paint pots, checking the colours. There’s one with the same horrible grey colour it's currently painted, but there’s also lots of little pots of different bright colours. I wonder when these were last used. It seems such a waste, especially when you look at the ugly grey. It’s so depressing. No wonder William’s in a bad mood all the time if this is what he’s looking at. Maybe I’ll do something a bit different. The residents deserve to smile, especially with that cock William hanging around annoying everyone and spoiling their fun.

‘What are you thinking?’ Beth asks, worry in her eyes.

‘You just wait and see,’ I grin.

***

I stand back a couple of hours later and marvel at my job. I might be sweating like a bitch, have splatters of paint all over my vest top and have not eaten or had a drink in hours, but I think it looks amazing. I’ve done a beach mural with red and white striped beach chairs, a dazzling blue sea and some of those annoying seagulls to make it look realistic. Only I had to paint them grey because I ran out of paint. I hope it doesn’t ruin it.

Beth doesn’t seem convinced. She says it’s okay, but I’m sure it's because she’s jealous of my talent. Probably scared I’ll get praised and given loads of extra hours. Her trip to Disneyland is looking more unlikely by the second. The reception phone rings and she goes to answer it while I congratulate myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of myself, which is weird I suppose.

‘Rose, Will wants you to see him in his office,’ she announces as she puts the phone back down.

‘Will? He lets you call him Will?’ This bothers me more than it should. What the hell have you got to do to be friends with someone? Not that I even like him. But still, I suppose I’d like the option.

‘Aye, why?’ she shrugs, as if it’s no big deal.

Maybe he’s just got something against Southerners. What a fucking racist.

I get the directions from Beth and storm upstairs, ready to tear myself a Yorkshire pudding. Or something. I really need to work on my Yorkshire insults.

The door to his office is open so I let myself in, slamming the heavy door behind me. Only he’s on the phone. Well, that’s anticlimactic. He looks up in shock, then annoyance. He places a finger in the air as if to halt me.

My good manners make me obey, but I roll my eyes to show what a dick I think he is. Again, he’s treating me like a dog. I’m eager for a fight, but the longer I have to wait the more I’m losing my steam. Maybe I’m over reacting. I shuffle from foot to foot nervously.

‘Okay. Ta very much,’ he says into the phone before he finally hangs up the phone.

I take a deep breath, suddenly uneasy. He leans arrogantly back in his swivel chair. He must think he’s a king in his little office. Idiot. You wouldn’t be such a big fish if you lived down South. You’d just be an arrogant prick.

‘You wanted to see me?’ I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall. I can play cocky too. Even if I feel like a bundle of nerves inside.

‘Yes.’ He smiles smugly. ‘I’m completing your council incentive forms and I just want to confirm a few things with you.’

‘Oh.’ He’s actually helping me. I relax myself a minute, realising I’ve been tensing my shoulders. Try to play nice.

‘So I need your full name, as it appears on your passport. I already know your first name is Rose.’ He stops to smile sarcastically. ‘But what’s your surname? And do you have a middle name?’ He picks up his pen, waiting.

Shit. He needs my full name. Well I’ve only gone and shot myself in the bloody foot haven’t I? Why did I make such a bloody fuss about him calling me Rose? This won't make him like me. I guess I better get used to calling him William.  

‘Well…my middle name is Catherine and my surname is Chapman.’

Do I really have to tell him my first name according to my passport?

‘Okay, great. If you can just fill in the other few details here.’ He hands over the form and I fill in my date of birth and the other few things before signing. I hold it, delaying handing it back to him.

Jesus, I’m going to have to just bite the bullet and tell him. How mortifying. I close my eyes and pray that he’ll go easy on me.

‘Um…well…my name is Rose, but…’  I look at the floor, ashamed. Why did I have to cause such a scene?

‘But what?’ he asks, irritated, raking his hands through his hair. No wonder it’s so messy if this is how he treats it.

‘Well….I suppose my official name…according to my passport…is Rosemary,’ I whisper, staring at the floor.

After an extended silence I look up to see his mouth dropped open slightly. He quickly tries to recover himself, before leaning his elbows onto the desk, joining his fingers together.

‘So, let me get this straight. Your real name is Rosemary, not Rose?’ he clarifies, his eyes dancing with amusement.

‘Yes,’ I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. Stand strong Rose. Don’t show him you’re embarrassed. That’s what he wants.

‘But you still felt you had the right to protest to me calling you Rosie? Even though you actually shortened your own name.’ He smiles smugly, enjoying this. Sick, sadistic bastard.

I sigh, defeated. ‘Everyone calls me Rose. I’ve always been called Rose, never Rosemary. I don’t even know why they called me it in the first place.’ I attempt a laugh, as if to show how this could even be funny. He doesn’t join in.

‘Well,
Rosemary
, it seems we’re going to have to live to your rule. I’ll call you Rosemary for the rest of your placement.’ He’s smiling now. Outright smiling; completely unembarrassed at subjecting me to this humiliation.

‘Please don’t,’ I beg shamefully, placing my palms on his desk, hoping my boobs are pushed together inside my vest top. ‘I hate it. Don’t you hate being called William?’

‘Nah,’ he shrugs, leaning back in his chair, his eyes confused.

‘Really? William is such an arrogant name,’ I blurt out before I can stop myself.

‘Arrogant name?’ His eyes narrow on me, and I feel my blood turn to ice. Whoops.

‘Err…well, you know, like Prince William. Your parents obviously thought they were giving birth to royalty.’ I snort with laughter. I’m greeted with more silence.