Page 70 of The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up
THEN
‘Will you close up?’ I ask.
‘What’s it worth?’ Dee wraps a few strands of hair around her finger, then lets it spring free.
‘My eternal gratitude.’
‘Nah.’
I smile and go back to serving. It’s nine o’clock and Matt is coming in at ten to take me out for a drink at a different pub before closing. It’s something we’ve been doing for a couple of months. In the early days, Matt would come to the Pheasant and I would snatch time to chat to him when I could, and then one day he asked whether I missed being on the customer side of the bar, and I realised I did, a bit.
When he comes in, I’m serving a group of women who are all drinking different wines. I know he’s there before I turn my head and see him. I’m not sure how this is possible, but it’s like he changes something in the atmosphere, so I can sense him. When I turn and we make eye contact, he flashes me a smile and I am reminded of that first night, when he helped the guy who’d been attacked out the front. If that hadn’t happened, if that scared girlfriend hadn’t run in, I might never have met him. He’d toldme, later, that his sister was taking him to every pub in town. He might have walked in and out of mine without me noticing him. And what a loss that would have been.
I finish pouring all the different wines and give the woman who’s buying the round the card machine. Then I go over to where Matt is leaning on the bar, and he leans further and gives me a kiss. Someone makes a jeering sound. Someone always does.
‘How was the hospital?’ I ask him.
Matt shrugs. ‘You know, the same. Lots of sad people waiting for news.’
I think that the people at the hospital are lucky to have him there, a friendly face at their worst moments. Almost say it, but it’s early days in our relationship, so I stop myself. At ten, I run upstairs to the flat and reapply my mascara.
‘Ready to go?’ Matt asks on my return.
I look at Dee.
‘Go,’ she says. She gestures around the pub, which has emptied out a fair bit. There’s Derek, of course, and the wine women, and a couple of other stragglers. ‘I have this all under control.’
‘I owe you one,’ I say.
‘You owe me several.’
Outside, the cold March air hits me and wakes me up. Matt takes hold of my hand and asks about my day, and I tell him a story about Derek getting locked in the toilets earlier, and we both laugh. It is easy with Matt. It feels right. But he is pushing for more, for commitment, and I’m not sure I’m ready.
‘I have to tell you something,’ I say once we’re seated in a corner at the White Hart.
‘Sounds serious.’
‘It is.’
Where to begin? With David, or with Mick? I take a sip of my vodka and tonic. I am playing for time. Now that I’ve begun this, I’m not sure I want to go on. Because won’t it affect the way he sees me, when I let him know how damaged I am? ‘This is hard. You know I volunteer at a women’s shelter?’
He nods.
‘And you know I was married?’
Matt nods. He looks afraid of what I might say. I put a hand on his arm to reassure him, and he takes my other hand in his.
‘My ex-husband, David. He’s in prison.’
This was unexpected, I can see. He reaches for his pint and takes a long gulp. ‘What for?’
‘GBH.’
He raises one eyebrow, silently urging me to go on.
‘He… well, he tried to kill me. Pushed me down the stairs. I was in a coma.’
‘Fuck, Shelley.’ He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the words.
