Page 35 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

‘Let’s get started.’ She gives me a mischievous wink. ‘You should learn Spanish, and then we can talk, and no one will understand.’

‘Hmmm… we’ll see.’ That idea does not fill me with enthusiasm right now. Learning a whole new language seems like an insurmountable task, especially with everything else I’m juggling.

Reyes and I spend a couple of hours working through a list of different gin cocktails, most of which, to my relief, are very simple. And they tasteamazing– not that I’m able to have more than a snifter of each when checking I’ve got the balance of ingredients right. She makes sure I have a few attempts at the trickier ones, so I feel comfortable with them. Apart from a couple of early disastrous attempts, we gift the drinks we make to the smattering of willing guinea pigs in the bar.

Just as we’re clearing up from the training, Aaron strides into the bar.

‘How are you getting on, Liv?’

‘Fine, thanks, Aaron. I’ve just learned how to make a Negroni, a Tom Collins, a Bramble, an Aviation, a Singapore Sling, a French 75…’ I count them out on my fingers.

‘Very good.’ He nods awkwardly. ‘And colleagues? How are you getting on with everyone?’

‘Oh, err… great, yes.’ I’m smiling, while my insides contract. ‘Everyone’s really nice. I’m feeling very welcome.’

‘Very good,’ he repeats himself, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Well, keep up the good work.’

‘Thanks. I will,’ I say to his back, as he’s already on his way out the door.

‘You are big fat liar, Chica.’ Reyes giggles when he has gone.

‘Sorry?’ I turn to her.

‘Everyone is not nice. Everyone else is nice, but the beast is not.’

‘Yeah, like I’m going to tell him that.’ I put my hands on my hips and give her an appraising look. ‘Would you?’

‘I am not his favourite, like you.’ She gives me a mischievous smile, and without thinking, I throw a bar towel at her – then look around me in terror in case Clara is lurking in one of the corners of the bar.

Chapter 10

For the next couple of weeks, I manage to keep my encounters and interactions with Clara to a minimum. Thankfully, she has two other bars to run as well, so she’s not breathing down our necks the whole time. That said, she does expertly materialise out of nowhere regularly, and when I least expect it, behaving in a manner not too dissimilar to the character of Regan MacNeil inThe Exorcist.

As a rule of survival, I reply politely when she asks me a question, avoiding any additional unnecessary conversation. I keep the chat and banter with Reyes and Amir to a minimum, particularly when the bar is busy and Clara might ambush us. I also return from all my breaks five minutes early, and even buy a book about gin and swot up in between job-hunting, to make sure Clara can’t catch me out that way.

There’s no sign of Josh, who it turns out is on holiday and then a training course. So, I eat alone in the canteen. To my relief, my feet and back become less sore with each passing shift, which helps me to feel ever so slightly less miserable. But all the time, in the front of my mind – even though I couldn’t ask for better workmates in Reyes and Amir, and I am really enjoying getting to know them – is the desperate, almost unbearable need for this to come to an end.

Having to downgrade my brand of gin and cut out the champagne has been the least of my worries. With every passing day, every job rejection, every death stare from Clara, I’m painfully aware that if I don’t catch a break in my career soon, there may be no way back.

‘What is on your mind, Chica?’ Reyes asks me one Wednesday evening when the bar is uncharacteristically quiet. ‘You can tell me anything.’

‘It’s nothing.’ I let out an involuntary sigh.

‘You cannot fool me, Liv. I see you. I watch how you are. You are unhappy.’

‘It’s complicated, Reyes.’ I try to put her off. ‘Probably not a conversation for work.’

‘Then we will have it out of work.’ She smiles at me sympathetically. ‘We go for a drink on day off tomorrow, yes?’

I look at her and suddenly feel an overwhelming need to share. I’ve been holding everything in for so long. I’ve discussed my situation only with Dylan, whose natural sway towards a big-brother-style tough-love approach is effective, but not always easy to accept. I need some more caring support too.

‘OK, sure. Let’s do that.’

‘Did I hear you say you’re going out tomorrow night?’ Amir, who’s in the middle of changing one of the beer kegs, pops his head round the door of the storeroom.

‘Yes, but it is chicas only. No men allowed,’ Reyes reprimands him.

‘I can be one of the girls – if you let me borrow your clothes,’ he teases her. ‘Maybe one of your sexy little numbers. I’m about the right size.’

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