Page 28 of A Seaside Escape
Chapter Six
The next day, Mallory decided to get stuck into organising her workshop. Hearing Greg talk about making a blackboard had given her the desire to get back to making things.It’ll be a good way to take my mind off everything.
She went upstairs into her room to hunt out her scruffy old denim dungarees. They were torn in places and covered in an array of coloured paint splats, but they were what she always wore when she was creating and they were so comfy. She pulled them on and walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner and looked at her figure. She remembered how Sam used to look at her when she wore them. That glint in his eye like he could devour her whole. She scraped her long, wavy, chocolate brown hair into a high ponytail and doubled the band over so that it sat in a knot atop her head.
Armed with her iPod and a bucket of soapy water, she walked up the uneven path to the little stone building at the top of the garden. She pushed open the rickety old wooden door and flicked on the light. There was a film of dust over every work surface and enough cobwebs and creepy-crawlies to make Tim Burton salivate. It really was like the set of a horror movie; she half expected Frankenstein or some other such monster to come crawling out of the woodwork. It was clear that the place hadn’t been used in earnest for years and Mallory decided that was about to change. She selected ‘Jagged Little Pill’ by Alanis Morissette from her playlist.Nothing like a bit of Alanis to belt out to whilst I’m cleaning,she mused and set to, cleaning and sweeping. It felt cathartic to be doing something physical.Maybe tonight I’ll sleep.
The old sink in the corner had a rusty old tap which wouldn’t even turn. So, after emptying the filthy, dank water from her bucket she went back into the house to refill it. Ruby followed her everywhere like a little four-legged shadow.
After a good three hours’ hard graft, the workshop was coming together nicely. The work surfaces along both lengths of the building were clean. The floor was swept and, to her delight, Mallory had discovered that under all the dirt there was a terracotta tiled floor. The pot sink was back to its original off-white and the whitewashed walls were free from cobwebs and spiders. It needed a lick of paint and maybe a noticeboard and some bright pictures to give her something pretty to look at whilst she worked.
She unpacked her various tabletop saws, sanders and routers from their boxes and placed them along one length of the work surfaces. Fortunately, she had discovered that the place appeared to have been rewired and so there were enough power points for all her gadgets.
Remembering Greg had talked about repairing taps at Colin’s, Mallory decided that she would venture over to the pub later and ask him what could be done to mend the one in the workshop so she could begin work straight away. She had an idea of a trade-off that would mean they both got a good deal out of the situation.
Once she had finished setting things up she made a quick inventory of her supplies and wrote a shopping list of things she would need. She decided she would go shopping the next day.
She showered away the grime and roughly dried her hair until it fell shaggily around her shoulders then she set about finding something to wear that didn’t need ironing. She found a pair of grey trousers and a red V-neck sweater that would do.
Once dressed, Mallory applied concealer to the ever-present, dark under-eye circles and a rose-coloured gloss to her lips. She pulled on her black boots and black waxed jacket and set off to the pub.
It was eight o’clock and the pub was lively with couples and families enjoying the home-cooked food. The aromas emanating from the kitchen made her stomach grumble in need of satiation. She wandered over to the bar and perched on a stool. Greg was serving a very well-spoken middle-aged gentleman who was enquiring about the local guest beers. Greg was imparting his knowledge and chatting pleasantly.
Greg finished serving the man and came over to her. Tonight, he was back to his normal attire; a black T-shirt with a strange emblem and the wordsA Perfect Circleon the front, black jeans and his cord necklace. She could still only see the very edges of the tattoo on his arm. He nodded in greeting but didn’t smile.
Hmm, back to the status quo then, eh?she said to herself.
‘You came out then,’ he said, stating the obvious.
‘I guess so, or else I’m a very realistic hologram.’ She too spoke without smiling.
‘Aye. Well, what you drinking? It’s on me.’ He flung the towel he was holding over his shoulder like some bartender in a western.
Wondering if she should order a Sarsaparilla as a joke, she paused for a moment. ‘As you’re buying, I’ll push the boat out and have a Jack and cola.’ She smiled. She hadn’t had one of those for months.
Greg recoiled. ‘Ugh! Have you no taste at all? First you ask forJackwhen you’re in aScottishpub selling the best single malts you’ll ever taste… then you kill it withcola?’ He closed his eyes and shook his head as if slowly realising he had just about done it again. He gulped. ‘I mean… coming right up.’ He wandered over to the glasses and measured out a double Jack, topping up the glass with cola. When he had placed the drink in front of her, he passed her a menu. ‘Steak pie is my recommendation, but see what you fancy.’ He walked away to serve someone else.
‘Nice chatting to you,’ she mumbled sarcastically, but he was out of earshot. She perused the menu and settled for the steak pie after all.
Once he was done serving he came back over and stood leaning on the bar in front of her. ‘What are you eating then?’ he asked sharply.
‘Well, you recommend the pie so I’ll go for that please.’ She tried to be pleasant, but he wasn’t making it easy with his brusque manner.
‘Mashed tatties or chips?’ he asked.
‘Mash please.’ She tried to hand him payment but he scrunched his brow and waved his hand dismissively.Argh, I can’t keep up.
‘Mash is for wussies. I’ll bring you chips.’ He grinned.
‘Oy! I said…’
He had already walked away through to the back.Git, she thought.
Mallory moved over to sit at a table near the roaring fire. She felt a little too conspicuous sitting there all by herself and surrounded by families and couples. She decided that she would eat and leave, preferring the company of her little black dog than that of a grumpy bartender and a room of strangers.
Eventually, Greg placed a huge, steaming plate of pie and chips in front of her and then walked away without a word. Shaking her head at his rudeness once again, she began to tuck in. She hated to admit it, but Greg was right, it was absolutely delicious. The chunks of steak were melt-in-the-mouth good and the pastry was short and buttery. She even had to admit that the home-made chips hit the spot nicely.
After a few minutes Greg appeared again, pulled up a chair and sat right opposite her at the table. He didn’t even have the courtesy to ask if it was okay. God, he could be arrogant and was clearly lacking in social etiquette.
