Page 103 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

How positive and free I felt. Like I could do anything. But I couldn’t because I still carried such a weight: a sack of shame that I lugged everywhere, that made me less of a person than everyone else.

‘Do not ever carry the shame of anything you had no influence or control over.’

As Graham’s words pop into my mind, it’s as if a switch has flicked. What am I doing? I wasn’t going to let this rule me anymore. No apologies, or feeling inferior. I’m definitely not a wannabe snob either. I’m just me. Plain. A bit bashed and bruised. But strong and determined. I have nothing to be ashamed of, or to apologise for. I’m going in.

Without even a word to nearby Dylan and Reyes, I take a final deep, solid breath and march through the doors of the Broken Arms.

Counter to the horrors in my mind, nothing stops as the door slams behind me. No one even looks up, engrossed in their noisy, animated conversations, which they have to amplify to be heard above the other punters and the almost blaring Christmas music. I stand just feet away from the overdecorated long bar, propped up by a seemingly endless line of punters of various ages. My eyes explore the room, across the sea of tables, past the enormous, blinking Christmas tree, to the pool table at the far end – the same one I played on all those years ago.

Before I even realise, I gravitate towards it. Slowly, I walk right up to the pool table; my fingers automatically reach out to touch it. As I make contact with the cool wooden frame, and the rough, faded, threadbare green felt, one thing is clear: I need to play.

A gruff voice suddenly snaps me out of my curious trance. ‘Eh, mate? Is that your bird? Gonnae ask her to get out the way.’

Seeing my surroundings properly for the first time, I realise that I’ve wandered into the middle of a game of pool in play. The challengers look thoroughly perplexed. The man with the gruff voice, who’s wearing a tracksuit and a cap, and is of a similar age to me, taps his foot impatiently, waiting for me to move. Glancing to my left, I see Dylan and Reyes arrive by my side, and steer me out of the way.

‘Not my bird, Neilsy,’ says Dylan. ‘But she’s with me. Sorry, pal, we’ll let you get back to your game.’

‘Hold on.’ The man called Neilsy looks at me again. ‘Is it…? It is. Shit a brick. Guys, it’s wee Liv.’

I’m suddenly surrounded by a swarm of faces – full of curiosity and recognition. And they’re smiling, welcoming me. One by one, they step over and overwhelm me with huge bear hugs, stinging high fives and complicated handshakes. The complete opposite of what I anticipated. As word spreads through the pub, the well-wishers – previous neighbours, old schoolmates, even one of my secondary school teachers – crowd round me.

After a while, as nice as it is to be so welcomed, I’m feeling a bit jaded from having to repeat my story of the last eight years over and over. I take a step back from the well-wishers so I can settle properly and relax.

‘So, wee Liv, you still the pool shark you were before?’ Neilsy asks me. ‘I remember you used to shrivel the balls of every guy in here – including me.’

‘Nah.’ I laugh. ‘That was a long time ago. I’ve only played a couple of times recently.’

A familiar feeling of guilt tinged with sadness creeps into my mind; alongside a memory of Josh and me playing pool in the staff canteen at the hotel. I push it aside.

‘You up for a game?’ Neilsy asks. ‘Maybe this time I’ll beat you. Been the Broken Arms pool champ three years in a row, I have.’ He puffs his chest out proudly.

‘OK, you’re on.’ I give his hand a slapping shake to seal the challenge. ‘Just let me get a drink first.’

I make my way through the group and bump into Dylan.

‘You all right, Squirt?’ He hands me a pint of Tennent’s. ‘Thought I’d get you your old tipple to complete the experience.

‘Thanks.’ I take it gratefully from him. ‘Guess that makes sense.’

‘We were a bit worried before when you just stormed in here like that,’ says Dylan. ‘Like an undercover cop about to do a bust. That never goes down well in a place like this.’

‘You’re right about that.’ I laugh. ‘I don’t know what happened. It was weird. One minute I was about to do a runner, and the next it was like I could take on the world.’

‘Was that your online pal coming to the rescue again?’ Dylan grins at me.

‘Graham? Actually… yeah… it was.’ I let out the same huge sigh I do every time he floats into my mind or enters a conversation. ‘That man. He just blew me away, Dylan. Made me see things I could never see myself; helped me find what was really important to me again.’

‘It wasn’t just him. You did a lot of it yourself.’

‘I know.’ I nod thoughtfully. ‘And you guys have been part of it too. I’ve actually got a little mantra now, for any more moments of self-doubt.’

‘Let’s hear it then.’ Dylan gives me nudge.

‘No chance.’ I clink his glass and take a refreshing slug from my pint. ‘You’ll just take the piss.’

‘That you can be sure of.’ Dylan gives me a wink and puts his arm around Reyes, pulling her in close.

‘Chica, I am so wishing your online hombre come back.’ Reyes gives me a pouty sad look.

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