Page 2 of Hooked On The One That Got Away
‘There’s a weird logic to that,’ admitted Willow, adding glumly, ‘Today, I felt like I’d actually gone backwards.’
‘Charlie on the brain again?’
‘Like an earworm that won’t quit.’
‘“Barbie Girl” by Aqua,’ said Maeve. ‘Or “Crazy Frog” by whichever maniac is to blame for that one.’
‘How about “Can’t Get You Out of my Head” by Kylie?’
‘“Toxic”? By Britney?’
Willow and Maeve met when they were employed as junior copywriters in the same advertising agency. Willow quickly found out that she loathed advertising and moved on to a part-time role with the local council, producing content for their website and quarterly magazine. It wasn’t well-paid, but she enjoyed getting out and about in the community, often picking up excellent pieces of gossip that sadly would never make it into the public channels. And mornings off gave her time for swimming.
Maeve, on the other hand, had flourished at the agency and was now a fully-fledged creative director, whose salary made Willow’s look like the tip-jar on the Oak and Whale’s bar, which currently contained around 50 pence, two Werther’s Originals (one unwrapped) and a bulldog clip. Maeve wore outfits from The Fold that cost hundreds of pounds, and Jimmy Choos. Willow wore comfortable, i.e. shapeless, activewear and Chucks. She no longer had anyone to dress up for.
Maeve had proved a solid friend, though, after Charlie’s abandonment, which could not be said for everyone in Willow and Charlie’s former friend circle. Willow guessed that those who’d dropped out of sight were either embarrassed for her, or worried that she was some kind of jinx for their own relationship. After all, their friends had literally voted her and Charlie ‘Most Disgustingly Happy Couple’ at a party only two months before the split. And nobody likes admitting they were completely wrong, because what other important things might they be completely wrong about?
‘Eh up, pet,’ said Maeve. ‘The ginger beardy fella is back with his violin-thingy.’
Maeve had been born in Ireland, but her parents had moved around a lot, pursuing casual employment opportunities all over Ireland, Scotland, England, Wales and even a stint in the Isleof Man. Over the years Maeve had accumulated an accent that defied easy identification, as well as a very low threshold for boredom.
‘Fiddle,’ said Willow. ‘Not violin. Same instrument, different use.’
‘I’d happily fiddle with him,’ said Maeve. ‘It’s why I force you to come here every Tuesday night and listen to “Whiskey In The Jar” for the millionth time.Whack-for-my-daddy-o, eh?’
She eyed the bearded fiddler, who was, Willow agreed, pretty cute. He had a gentle vibe about him and a fantastic smile. He reminded her of Charlie, only Charlie didn’t have a ginger beard. He had shaggy light brown hair that no product had been able to tame. Willow had loved stroking it off his forehead …
‘I’m a Barbie girl!’ Maeve sang it a gratingly high-pitched voice. ‘Sorry. I could see you were drifting off to Charlie-land. Thought I’d bring you back to earth.’
‘I don’t know why it’s so bad at the moment!’ Willow almost wailed. ‘It should be getting easier, not harder!’
‘Maybe it’s because we’re getting close to the anniversary of him leaving?’ Maeve suggested. ‘That’s not the right word, but you know.’
‘Oh, god, you’reright,’ Willow groaned. ‘I hadn’t twigged. Too busy trying not to think about it. A year ago,tomorrow …’
If the table had been big enough, she would have folded her arms on it and rested her head on them. Instead, she settled for a deep sigh, and a pat on the shoulder from Maeve.
‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,’ said Maeve. ‘He behaved like an absolute arse. You deserved so much better then, and you deserve so much better now. Time to move on. Seriously.’
‘Move onwhere?’ said Willow, glumly.
The rest of the folk band were taking their seats. It wasn’t a formal band, more a loose association of like-minded musicians.Some weeks, there’d be as few as three, and sometimes as many as twelve. This evening, there was the young, bearded fiddler, an ancient-looking man on accordion, a homespun woman of middle-age who played uilleann pipes and/or banjo depending on the number, a teenage girl on the bodhrán, and a man who looked like an accountant on the tin whistle. Another young guy, who was there every week, played guitar and sang. He and the fiddle player looked alike enough to be brothers, but folk music did attract a lot of bearded types in flannel shirts and waistcoats, so who knew?
What Willow appreciated most about the musicians was that they hadn’t been around when she was coming here with Charlie. Not long after he left, the Oak and Whale changed ownership. The new owner was a pink-haired woman of indeterminate age, who also grew flowers, which she sold at the weekend farmers’ market. She didn’t spend much time behind the bar, leaving that job to a raven-haired, heavily tattooed young woman called Geillis, named apparently after a Scottish maidservant who was famously executed as a witch in the late-1500s. Bar-keeper Geillis had various witch-themed tattoos, including a black cat that took up her entire left forearm. Geillis and the inked cat shared the same unusual green-gold eyes, that Maeve had once described as ‘pure fae’. It was probably a coincidence that there’d been no brawls in the pub since Geillis arrived, but she certainly had a presence about her.
‘Why don’t you go hit on yon singer?’ Maeve suggested to Willow. ‘He’s not as cute as the fiddler but I’ve called dibs on him.’
‘No.’ It had been Willow’s automatic response to this kind of suggestion for almost a year, and now she was even boring herself. ‘Maybe … Not today.’
‘I’ll hold you to “maybe”,’ said Maeve. ‘And remind you that it’s your round.’
Like magic, Geillis appeared to clear their empty glasses. She made Willow nervous, especially when she fixed her with that green-gold stare.
And said things like, ‘You’ll be more careful in the river tomorrow, won’t you?’
‘Um, yes,’ said Willow. ‘I’ll avoid all rudely speeding rowers.’
‘They’renot a danger,’ said Geillis, dismissively. ‘It’s the swans you need to watch out for now. It’s breeding season, so they’ll be extra aggressive.’
