I’d reserved a table for dinner, assuming Maisie and Michelle would agree to come along. The pub wasn’t exactly busy on a Tuesday night, but there was one corner table in particular that always got snapped up. Fortunately, the owner would happily set it to one side if there was a chance I would be showing up.
“I hear that bartenders in the UK aren’t that strict on asking for ID,” Maisie said slowly. “And the drinking age is only eighteen.”
“And you’re only fourteen,” Michelle said.
I laughed. “They don’t let just anyone drink these days. When I was your age I could get away with it, but they’re much stricter now. I think you can have cider with a meal when you’re sixteen though.”
“I guess I can wait until I get back to the hotel,” Maisie said, as we sat down. I made sure to sit opposite Michelle; at least that way I could look at her without it being too obvious.
“Unfortunately for you,” I said, “I told the hotel staff not to send any alcohol up to your room. You can have all the food you can eat and enjoy any of the hotel amenities, but not the alcohol.”
“And here I was thinking you were the cool one,” Maisie teased.
Maisie and Michelle both ordered large meals, but I settled for a chicken salad. I wasn’t all that hungry and the rugby season was still in full swing so I had to watch what I ate.
“So, Michelle, what have you been doing since I last saw you?” I asked.
“You want me to recap the last eight years?” she asked sullenly.
“Just the highlights.”
“I’m sure Maisie has told you most of it already.”
This was going to be a long night.
“He wants to hear it from you,” Maisie said. “It’s called being polite.”
Michelle sighed, but I thought I heard a ‘sorry’ slip out from between her soft lips. “I finished school, obviously.”
“University?”
“No, I never went to college.”
Maisie had already told me that, but it still came as a shock to hear her say it. I’d only spent a few months with her, but in that short time she had made an impression on me as someone with a lot of book smarts. In fact, I used to tease her by saying she’d be a student until her thirties, never leaving school to join the real world.
“I work in a bar,” she continued. “It’s full of students usually, so we’re quiet over the summer.”
Michelle seemed to have finished, but Maisie was looking at her expectantly.
“And…” Maisie encouraged, waving her hand in a circular motion for Michelle to continue.
“And I also teach women self-defence.”
“Ah,” I remarked. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re in good shape. You look fit.”
Michelle didn’t know the word ‘fit’ tended to be used as a synonym for ‘attractive’ in the UK, so she accepted the compliment as relating only to her physical fitness.
“And…” Maisie said again, making the same hand motion.
“Those are the only two jobs I get paid for,” Michelle replied. “I also volunteer at a centre for women who are victims of violence. Domestic violence usually.”
Maisie had never mentioned Michelle’s volunteer work. It left me speechless, but fortunately our food arrived to break the awkward silence. It wasn’t a stretch to figure out why Michelle was teaching self-defence and helping women who had been victims of violence.
Michelle had been with Maisie when she’d been attacked with acid, and she blamed herself for not being able to defend her sister. The burn marks on Maisie’s face were a constant reminder. She should be blaming me instead. I’m the reason Maisie was attacked, not her.
Michelle looked over my shoulder seemingly in the direction of some young men laughing at the bar. I turned around to look—initially jealous that she was checking out other men—and noticed that they were laughing at Maisie.
They weren’t quite pointing and laughing, but they were looking at her face and snickering enough for it to be obvious. Maisie didn’t seem to have noticed, or if she had then she didn’t care.
Michelle tried to ignore it, but I could tell it was tearing her apart inside. I knew how she felt. When I heard another laugh from one of the men—although they were barely eighteen by the looks of them—I quickly downed the rest of my drink and said I was going to buy another round.
I walked over to the bar and stood next to the group of men. “Hey Craig,” I said getting the barman’s attention. “Can you fill this up with another Doom Bar please.”
“Sure thing Olly.”
“Use the tap just in front of these ‘gentleman,’” I said. Craig nodded and moved over to the tap right in front of the group of men. They’d overheard what I’d said—as they were supposed to—and I had their attention.
My head faced Craig, but I directed my words at the group of boys. “What’s so funny, boys?”
“Hey, aren’t you Oliver Cornish?” one of them asked, ignoring my question.
“Never mind who I am,” I said, standing up straight so they could see all six feet and five inches of my muscular frame. The tallest of their group was a good three inches smaller than me, and the muscles on all four of them put together wouldn’t match mine.
“We can laugh if we want to,” the smallest of the four said. “It’s a free country.”
“Ah, you’re right, my apologies. You are free to laugh at my friend if you like. As you say, it’s a free country. Who am I to stop you?”
The boy tried to force a smile to celebrate his victory, but he looked nervous and knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.
I took my pint and turned as if I was about to walk away, but then stopped and looked at them directly. “Of course, if it’s a free country, then that means—hypothetically of course—I am also free to take your heads and squeeze them between my palms until they are in the shape of a rugby ball.”
The boys all looked at me nervously. They weren’t about to challenge me, but they also had no idea how to get out of this situation. I almost felt sorry for them until I remembered the look on Michelle’s face.
“This being a free country,” I continued, “means you are also free to put down your drinks and leave. Hypothetically.”
One of the boys had the balls to finish his pint in one gulp, but the others just placed their glasses down on the bar and left as quickly as they could without actually running.
“Sorry about that, Craig,” I said. “I’ll pay for the drinks they would have bought.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Craig said. “I don’t want their sort in here anyway, and when word gets round that you popped by again I’ll get a load more business.”
I went back to the table and saw Maisie still tucking into her food. Michelle looked at me and nodded with the slightest hint of a smile on her face. I returned the nod and went back to eating my dinner, hoping Maisie hadn’t noticed what happened.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Maisie said, between mouthfuls.
“Do what?” I said innocently.
“You can’t threaten everyone who laughs at my face. It would be a full-time job. I’m fine with it, so you should be as well.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I lied.
“Okay, well hypothetically, if you did then you don’t need to.”
“Do you ever think that girl is too smart for her own good?” I asked Michelle.
“All the damn time,” she replied. “But then I see her grades.”
“Hey,” Maisie exclaimed.
“You told me you were doing well at school,” I said.
“It’s not my fault,” she insisted. “All the kids pick on me because of my face, so I can’t concentrate in class.” She laid on some obviously fake tears, but then gave up when she saw Michelle and I weren’t buying it. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
I laughed and looked back to Michelle who was already staring at me. She mouthed the words “thank you” and then went back to eating.