Chapter 3: Nothing to Lose

To my surprise, the inside of The Vic was nothing like I remembered. It had always been dark and, I found, a little intimidating. I guess it was like working men’s clubs of old up and down the country. It was always said that any band or comedian who played a gig at The Vic had a tough time of it. It certainly wasn’t a place for first timers.

But now it looked bright and modern, having clearly been recently refitted—I’d guess at the expense of Liddington-Phipps’ new owners as another sign of their commitment to the community. Truthfully though, my first impression was that it had lost its character. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the countless other soulless corporate clubs, pubs and restaurants that I’d come across in my travels around America and which I knew littered Britain too.

There was a stage at the far end of the room and between that and the entrance were numerous tables sitting everything from two to twelve (I’m guessing at twelve. It could have been twenty for all I knew, it wasn’t like I counted. Let’s just say there were tables for large groups and leave it at that). The bar was along the back wall next to the entrance.

Maybe three-quarters of the tables were unoccupied—The Vic’s entertainment always used to start around nine, and if that was still the case it’d be another hour or so before people started to arrive and settle in for a drink or four. I went over to an empty table and picked up the menu that sat upon it. It was nothing special, the usual Pub Grub type of thing—steaks, burgers, chicken, fish, all served with chips and side dishes like garlic bread.

I noted the table number inlaid on a tiny brass plaque in one corner and then headed to the bar to place my order. While I waited for the barmaid to arrive, I noticed someone I’d rather not have seen approaching a young woman who was sitting at the bar sipping a large glass of white wine. Mike Thornton, right-back for Micester Town football club, had been one of a group from the team that regularly used some poor girl for their entertainment at Del Stevens’ basement parties. That is until someone put a stop to those parties after they used the wrong girl. You could say I had a hand in putting a stop to them, but the credit really went to Lily Williams and her dad, Pete.

I couldn’t hear what Mike said to the young woman, but it was pretty clear she didn’t want anything to do with him. Anyone with any brains could read the signs she was giving off. But no one had ever accused Mike Thornton of being over blessed in the brains department.

She shook her head at his next question and looked in my direction, rolling her eyes over-dramatically. But Mike still didn’t take the hint and came around into her field of view, leaning on the bar with his back to me. He spoke to her again, reaching out to stroke her upper arm at the same time. She flinched but he moved with her to keep contact. That was too much.

I left the food order station, even though I hadn’t ordered yet, and walked towards the pair.

My close friends called it my White Knight complex. I had this bad habit of wading in to help solve other people’s problems. Particularly if the other person happened to be an attractive female.

“I’m pretty sure the lady isn’t interested in your company,” I said. “I know you’re not the sharpest tool in the box, but I’d think even you would’ve got the message when she said No.”

“No-one asked you, shit-for-brains,” Mike said without turning around. “So why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” He turned to face me and grinned moronically. “Well, look who it isn’t? Paul fucking Robertson. Micester’s biggest loser. I thought you’d skipped the country after you got Del banged up.” He stepped forward, clearly trying to be intimidating.

I hardened my stare. “Del Stevens is where he belongs. Where he can’t do any more damage.”

“Yeah, well, not more much longer, eh? He reckons he’ll be out before too long. Good behaviour, see? Yeah, right! He’s got the screws convinced though, innit? And that’s what matters. But trust me, when he finds out you’re back in town, he’ll fucking come for you, that’s the fucking truth.”

“Of course he will. Because he obviously loves prison so much he’ll want to get back there as soon as he can.”

He snorted. “Giving you the kicking you deserve won’t send him back inside. I don’t think—”

“No, clearly, you don’t. Must be too hard for you.” The woman at the bar snickered. Thornton just looked bemused. “I guess that’s why you can’t grasp that the lady isn’t particularly enamoured of your company.”

“Eh? Speak fucking English, will ya!”

“You want me to translate? Okay, but it’s been a while since I had to speak imbecile. I’m out of practice. Here goes ... The bird said no, didn’t she? So why don’t you just fucking do one and fuck the fuck off.”

He took another step toward me and growled. “You’re a fucking arsehole. Give me one reason not to take your fucking head off right here.”

“Because you don’t have three goons backing you up so you’d probably not be able to get the job done? Or maybe because if you did you’d be joining your bum-chum Stevens inside. That’s two, do you want any more?”

“I’m going to knock you the fuck out.”

I stepped up to him and looked him square in the eye. “I’d like to see you try. See, here’s the thing, Mike. There’s something you don’t know about me. Something you don’t realise.”

“Yeah? What? You finally grown a pair or something?”

“Oh, I’ve always had a pair, believe me. But what you don’t realise, and you can tell your bum-chum this the next time you go see him on a conjugal rights visit—”

“What?”

“—is that the day Stevens stole that car, ran from the police and smashed into us, he took away the only thing in my life that was worthwhile. I lost the only thing I had to live for. So that means I’m a man with nothing left to lose. Do you see? And do you know what that makes me? Do you?”

With a snarl through gritted teeth, he muttered, “What?”

I felt the flash in my eyes as I said, “Dangerous. It makes me dangerous. So you want to take me on? Fine. Go ahead.” I stepped back and held my arms out from my sides. “I’ll let you take your best shot. And afterwards, I’ll get up and then I’ll kick fifty shades of shit out you. I swear, I’ll fuck you up so bad that you’ll be sucking your dinner through a straw for six months.”

Thornton’s eye twitched. He slowly stepped back and said, “You...” He pointed at me. “You’re a fucking nut-job, you are. Fucking nut-job.”

He took a wide path around me to get to the door. Before he left, he turned back, pointed at me again and said, “Fucking nut-job. Stay the fuck away from me, you hear? Stay the fuck away.”

I made a small lunge towards him and laughed as he dashed from the club.

Damn, that felt good.

“Thanks.”

The voice came from behind me. I turned to face the woman that I’d almost forgotten was there, even though she was the catalyst for the whole confrontation.

I shrugged. “No problem.”

“He’d have given up in about half an hour or so when his mates got here but would’ve annoyed the hell out of me in the meantime.”

“He’s bothered you before?”

“He’s been trying it on for a couple of weeks. Claims he’s some big football star, but why would he be living in a backwater like this if he was? Full of shit if you ask me. Like when he claims he knows how to show me a good time—like I’m some doe-eyed virgin just waiting for him to introduce me to the joy of sex. I tell you, in my experience, guys who are that up front about their prowess tend to have dicks not much bigger than their brains, which ain’t saying much. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I guess. Actually, an old girlfriend of mine told me you might be right. About the size of his ... er ... brains, I mean.”

She tipped her head back and laughed joyously. “That right, huh? And you’re still friends with this ex-girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. If you’re friends with your exes, then that usually means you’re one of the good ones.” She stood and walked over to me, holding her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Ruth. Ruth Jackson.”

“Paul.”

“Yeah, I heard. Paul fucking Robertson. Although I assume that’s not your real middle name.”

“No. No, my real middle name’s George, but that’s kind of embarrassing and not many people know that so keep it under your hat.”

She giggled. “I will, Georgie-boy.”

I gave her a faux stern look and she broke into giggles again. She quickly calmed down and said, “You looked like you were about to order some food.”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I join you? I was thinking of getting something to eat myself, but, honestly, the food here is shit, so how about we go someplace else. There’s a bistro on the high street called Millie’s. You know it?”

I grinned. “I should. It’s my sister’s place. Although, in fairness, I only found that out today.”

Ruth beamed, her bright green eyes sparkling. “Now, it sounds like there’s an interesting story behind that one. So, think you might be able to get us a family discount then?” She linked her arm in mine and led me back outside.

It felt slightly odd walking through Micester with a girl on my arm. Oh, sure, I’d had a girl or two on my arm in the US, but this wasn’t a foreign land. This was Micester and every step I took in the town reminded me of... her. Every shop we passed. Every road we crossed. This had been her town. Our town.

Had been.

Not anymore.

When I’d originally walked from Millie’s to The Vic, I’d been wandering aimlessly, so it didn’t take anywhere near as long to get back there taking the direct route. Ruth pulling me along at a brisk pace had something to do with it too. She must have been pretty damn hungry. I know I was.

There was a short queue at the Maître’D podium just inside the entrance to Millie’s, but Jessica saw me as she returned from seating a diner and smiled. Then she saw Ruth next to me and her eyebrows went up a little before she greeted the next guest in line and showed them to a table. In less than five minutes, we were at the head of the queue.

“Hi, Jess,” I said, timidly. “Look, I ... Sorry about earlier. I was out of order.”

She dismissed my worries with a wave of her hand. “Forget about it. Vic explained and, if I’m honest, I think I’d have reacted the same way you did. She’s going to call the estate agents first thing tomorrow and, I tell this for nothing, I wouldn’t want to be the one who picks up that phone.” She grinned. “Table for two, I take it?”

I nodded.

“Follow me.” She led towards the back of the room, to a small table in an alcove. There were three alcoves back here, and two more on each of the side walls. Ours was the only one unoccupied. “Vic had me keep it free, just in case.” She winked and left us with menus while she returned to the next waiting customer.

“Pasta,” Ruth said as she picked up the menu. “This place has the most amazing pasta dishes. But I guess you know that.”

“Actually, this is the first time I’ve seen the evening menu. But I’ve always loved Vic’s pasta, so it’s not really a surprise.”

Ruth titled her head and gave me a look that felt as though she was peering into my soul. “Like I said, I bet there’s an interesting story here.”