Page 38 of Plot Twist

‘No chance, I haven’t even had a drink,’ I groaned, looking down at my jacket and jeans, which were caked in mud, in dismay. ‘And now I look like I’ve been for a mud bath. But I’m here for a good time, not a long time.’

‘Well, Riley, what’s the craic?’ the barman asked.

‘Well, John, this is my friend, Becca. She had a bit of a fall on our way here, hence the mud,’ Riley said.

‘Welcome to John the Craic-tist,’ John said.

Despite the shooting pain down below and my less than conventional appearance, I snorted. ‘Excuse me?’

‘John the Craic-tist. That’s the name of the bar,’ Riley explained. ‘Like John the Baptist but, you know, with all the Irish craic. And this is John.’

‘That’s the best pub name I’ve ever heard,’ I laughed.

John smiled. ‘I like her already.’

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar and was horrified to see mud marks all over my face. Even worse, they looked like shite. Actual shite on my face. And maybe it was; I wasn’t sure what was in that field, after all.

‘Oh!’ I exclaimed. ‘I better go to the bathroom and try and fix myself up a bit.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Riley asked.

‘No two people of the opposite sex in the bathroom at one time,’ John said, sternly. ‘It’s a house rule.’

‘What?’ Riley laughed. ‘Since when?’

‘Unfortunate incident a few months ago,’ John replied, shaking his head, with a grave expression etched on his face. ‘My missus was left traumatised, so she was. Let’s just say, there could be a baby John the Craic-tist on the back of it. If they name it after where it was conceived, I mean; not that I was involved in any way.’

His stern face turned pink as I tried to cover up the laugh that threatened to escape.

‘Seriously?’ Riley almost choked as John handed him a pint. ‘That actually happened in Rathcliffe?’

‘Some of the things I’ve seen would burn your eyes, my boy,’ John said, shaking his head. ‘So none of that here. What are you drinking, Becca?’

‘I’ll have a pint of your finest Guinness please, John. When in Rome and all that,’ I said.

I followed the signs to the ladies’ bathroom. Checking my reflection close up in the mirror, I sighed. The one time I’d tried to make a bloody effort, I’d ended up with a half-cracked arse, looking like I had shite on my face. Typical. I tried to wash the mud out of my hair under the tap, ignoring the throbbing when I bent to the side, and watched the water run brown. At least I was alone in the bathroom, mind you.

So much for being ‘out out’. I looked like I’d been in the bloody wars.

‘You all right in there?’ Riley knocked at the door.

‘Yes!’ I called back. ‘You better get away from here before John the Craic-tist’s wife thinks we’re cavorting. You’ll get barred for life. I’ll be out in a minute.’

I tidied myself up and hobbled back out to the bar, where Riley had a seat in the corner.

‘Are you OK, big city girl?’ he teased.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a cracked arse and bruised ego.’ I shrugged, lowering myself carefully onto my seat. Luckily, it was cushioned.

We chatted easily, with the Guinness going down so well that I forgot about my fall from grace. The booze seemed to numb the pain, too. We exchanged drinking stories, mainly centred around our university days. I wondered if, after a few pints, Riley would mention Jackie, but he didn’t. Not one word I talked about Rae, of course, because every good night out had been with her. She was the life and soul of every party.

‘Listen,’ he said, clearing his throat and leaning in towards me. ‘If you ever wanted to talk about Rae, I’m a good listener.’

I mirrored his move, edging myself in towards him and resting my head on my hand, inches away from him. Evidently, the Guinness had kicked in.

‘I know you are.’ I smiled and spoke softly. ‘And I do want to say thank you. You’ve. . . it’s really helped knowing I have you on the end of the phone and now, here, in real life. Even though it wasn’t what I was expecting, I’m glad I’ve stayed.’

‘Pleasure is all mine.’ He gazed at me, fuelling some flipping feelings in my stomach.