Chapter 2

I wasn't at all sure where I was going to, when I loaded my car. I was well aware that I didn't need to stay local; actually that was the last thing I wanted to do, what with all the family thinking I was some kind of a pervert for one thing. And when my friends discovered that I was no longer with Lindsey they would want to know why we'd broken up. What do I tell them? That she'd kept her legs crossed for me, but was shagging some squaddy behind my back? Shit, that story was going to get out sometime anyway and I was going to look a prize prick.

I thought of going down to the coast and maybe finding a full time job with one of the fishing charter companies. But I scrapped that idea because most of my friends went sea fishing, someone was bound to spot me on one of their trips before very long and word would get around on where I'd sneaked off to.

Then the idea of Norfolk came into my head. There were plenty of holiday sailing and cruiser hire companies up there. I wondered it I could get a job in one of those hire boatyards. That would mean I was working around boats at least, even if they were only Broads' Holiday Cruisers.

Cutting across town I made my way up the A12 past Ipswich and on up to Lowestoft on the coast of East Anglia. Once there I was in Norfolk's Broads region and I began driving from one small Broadland town or village to the next, looking for... ? Oh, shit, I had no idea what I was looking for. A bloody great sign outside a boatyard that said 'Help Wanted, preferably a pissed off big city teenager' maybe. I had no idea what I was looking for or how I expected to find it.

I'm not sure what time I pulled into the riverside pub car park. I didn't have much choice really - I'd run out of road. I'd thought there might be a boatyard at the end of the little lane but the road terminated at a waterside pub called "The Willow's Ferry". As I hadn't eaten all day I thought I might as well see if they did food and possibly they might do B&B so I could find a bed for the night there.

The pubs low ceiling made the bar fairly dark inside. There were a few lights on behind the bar itself, I gathered so that the staff could see what they were doing when pulling pints. Not that there were any staff in sight, I assumed that they were out in the riverside garden, which was pretty crowded with patrons, in contrast to the deserted bar.

Taking a seat on one of the stools by the bar I made myself comfortable until someone decided to put in an appearance. I'd been sitting there for about five minutes before a pair of Bristols walked in from the garden carrying a tray of empty glasses. I had to mention them now because ... well, they were not something that any male of our species would not notice first about her; they must have come through the door a good half a second before the rest of the young woman did.

"Oh, where did you spring from, luvver?" the broad Norfolk accent, attached to the Bristols asked. And, no, I hadn't got around to looking at her face yet.

I gestured to the door that led in from the car park.

"Well, I'll be, kind of took me by surprise. Most customers come by boat or along the towpath at this time of year. What can I get you?" she asked, making her way behind the bar. Ditching the empty glasses, she began filling half a dozen or so more.

"Pint of best. And do you do food?" I replied, finally forcing myself to look up from those ginormous tits, to her face. It was an extremely pretty face that was wearing a grin that told me she was well aware of where my concentration had been since she'd entered the room.

Actually it is possible that those Bristols weren't quite as large as they first appeared. The young woman couldn't have stood more than four foot ten or eleven. Her short height seemed to accentuate the size of those breasts. She looked like she needed a counterbalance on her back to support the damned things. Whatever, they were large by any normal standards and to be honest they looked not far short of comical on her. Although I doubted that most hot-blooded young men would have been laughing in quite the way you would imagine if they could get their hands on the damned things.

Where was I? See, I was soon to discover that's the affect those Bristols of Millie's had on most guys.

The barmaid, who I rapidly was to learn was called Millie, pulled my pint as she was pulling the order she'd obviously taken from outside and placed it in front of me.

"I'll send Martha in to get your order, as she's doing food!" she said looking me straight in the eye. Then she looked down at her appendages, then back up into my eyes, grinned, winked and then left for the garden again carrying a tray laden with beer.

A few seconds later a much older woman appeared who I gathered was Martha. Efficiently but in a manner that told me the last thing she wanted was another food order she listed what was available and I chose sandwiches. That brought an unwarranted look of disgust from Martha, before she retreated to wherever she'd been hiding when I'd arrived.

Shortly those Bristols returned attempting to hide behind another tray full of empty glasses and Millie set about filling another tray full of pints, half pints and assorted shorts.

"On holiday?" she threw in my direction.

"Nope, looking for a job and some digs for the night. Do you do B&B here?" I replied.

Millie fixed me with a sideways look. "Doing what?"

"Dunno, thought I might find work in one of the boat hire places."

"You'll be lucky! You're not a boat builder; I can see that by the look of your hands. All the boat yards around here want fully skilled men to keep the boats up to scratch during the season," she commented.

'Well, there goes that idea out the bloody window, ' I thought to myself.

"What about B&B?" I asked her.

"I'll have a word with the landlady," she replied, hoisting the fully loaded tray and heading for the garden again.

Martha returned just long enough to place my cheese and tomato sandwiches on the bar beside me.

"You looking for work?" A definitely no nonsense and commanding female voice said from behind me as I started tucking into the first sandwich.

I glanced around to see an attractive woman, possibly in her late thirties or early forties had entered from the garden. I figured that the tray of empties she was carrying marked her out as the landlady that Millie had mentioned.

"Yeah." I nodded in reply to her.

"Can you change a barrel?" she asked, moving behind the bar and starting to fill up glasses as Millie had done before her.

"Changed a few in my time, but that's all," I replied.

"How about washing out the pipes? Have you ever worked in a public house?"

"No, can't say I have. I've changed the odd barrel at parties and the like, but I've never worked in a pub."

"There's only Millie, my two girls and myself here most of the time. I did have a bar come cellar man but I got rid of him. He took a little too much interest in my girls; you'd better think about that before you accept the job. I can offer you room, full board and all the beer you can handle, providing you don't overdo things. The money ain't good and the hours are worse, but at the end of the season we have a divvy up on how well the season's gone. You interested?"

She'd taken me completely by surprise and for a moment I didn't know how to answer.

"Well, what do you say? I haven't got all day," she demanded.

"But you know nothing about me!" I stumbled out eventually, feeling that I had to say something.

"No, I don't, but you look clean enough, and I've got about a hundred thirsty people out by the river and there's just Millie and me to serve them. From today until after the school holidays finish it only gets worse. So what do you say?"

I made a quick decision off the top of my head. "My name's Mack," I offered by way of reply.

"Right, Mack, finish your sarnie and then get behind the bar. Millie and I will take the orders and look after the cash; you pull the pints and mix the drinks for the time being. Oh, if you get any time, get out there and collect some empties when you can. Do you know how to use that glass washer?

I shook my head in the negative.

"Millie will show when she comes in. Oh, I'm Beverly - Bev to most folks!"

Then she was gone out into the garden again and I began a crash course in bartending in a country pub during the busy season.

The next couple of hours flew by with Millie showing me how to use the glass washer and where the cellar was. There were bottles to be brought up and shelves to refill besides changing several barrels during the afternoon. The old arm was aching a bit from pulling all those pints as well.

A couple of times - well, a lot of times really - Millie came behind the bar with me and I'm damned sure she rubbed those Bristols across my lower back on purpose. Although to be fair there wasn't much room behind that bar, so I could have been reading more into that than there was.

It must have been about half five when two very good-looking young ladies entered by the car park entrance. One look told me that they were Beverly's girls that she'd mentioned earlier.

"Ooh wee, Pat, look what mother's found!" one of them said when she saw me loading the glass washer.

"Lay off, you two!" Bev's voice came from the garden door. "Mack, these are my daughters Patricia and Michelle. That's Mack and he's helping us out for a few weeks. Now, Pat, get into the kitchen and help Martha out; she's been snowed under all afternoon. And Michelle you'd better give Millie a break, the poor girls been on her feet since ten o'clock. Old Bert never turned in and we've been running about like blue arsed flies all day. Then you'd better spell Mack here for a while, he hasn't sat down since he walked in the door either."

Both girls called, "Hi, Mack, catch you later!" then ran upstairs where I think they must have just changed their shoes, because they were down again in minutes and working like a couple of beavers.

Millie came in and hoisted herself onto one of the bar stools just after Michelle went out into the garden.

"It ain't always as bad as this!" she said in her Norfolk accent. "But bank holidays are always pretty bad. Surprising what difference it makes not having Bert here to pick up the empties."

"Bert?" I asked wondering who the hell he was.

"He's the pot-man. Just an old boy from the village, collects the empties for his beer. Nice old boy, but he's getting on a bit and has funny turns some days. We certainly miss him when he ain't here."

I had my break and then the evening was more of the same, although more folks moved into the bar as the light began to fade and the evening got cooler. Some customers began to turn up in cars as well. With Bev's daughters there, it became easier for everyone and Beverly took time to show me where I was going to sleep. She explained that it had been a brew house at one time but her husband had it converted into a little self-contained cottage.

It consisted of one large room with a sofa, a four-foot bed and a little kitchenette (reminded me of Lindsey's place but smaller) and a separate toilet and shower. The main point was it was accessible from outside the pub, so I wasn't sleeping in the same building as the women. Could be that I felt a little disappointment in that. But later it was to prove a real boon.

To be honest the rest of the weekend was a bit of a blur. I must have been dog tired when I finally got to bed that night and it seemed only a minute or two later that Millie was banging on the door telling me that breakfast was on the table in the kitchen. After a hurried breakfast, punctuated by people knocking on the kitchen door asking for Sunday papers, milk, eggs butter and the like.

Bev sold those things during the summer. "Out here, if there's a captive market you have to tap into it," Bev explained. "I've got an arrangement with the nearest village store."

Then it was all hands down to cleaning the pub and restocking the bar for "Sunday's bash" as Bev termed opening hours. I was introduced to old Bert when he turned up; it was surprising, he recovered a great number of glasses that we'd missed the day before. Amazing just where people will put empty glasses, considering there are tables about ten feet away.

Some of the boats out on the river moved on and others arrived to take their place, some obviously planning to stop overnight while others moored just for an hour or so. Whatever, once twelve o'clock came along we were back in full swing again. The intricacies of the till were explained to me and for just some of the time I was aware of Bev and Millie mentally checking my calculations. But they appeared satisfied. I was pretty well shattered when I hit the hay on the Sunday evening.

The bank holiday Monday seemed to be worse than the Saturday had been, but thinking about it I'd worked less than a third of the Saturday. That Monday was a real killer. Damn. I was working so hard, I don't remember much of the day. So it was the third evening on the trot that I collapsed into bed exhausted. Only I didn't go straight off to sleep that night, I lay there thinking about what had happened in the last couple of weeks. When I did finally get to sleep, I dreamt about Lindsey being with that bleeding squaddy again.

"Christ, you look shattered this morning," Millie said as I joined the four ladies at the table for breakfast.

"Yeah, didn't sleep as well as I could have," I replied.

"Leave it out, Millie. You're used to this work; Mack will get into the swing of things in a few days," Bev said. "Right, Mack, I'm off to the cash and carry this morning, you'd better come with me so you know where it is and you can carry the heavy stuff for me."

The two girls and Millie looked at Bev when she'd made that statement, and then at each other. Something passed between them; I know not what?

"So what's your story, Mack?" Beverley asked as we pulled onto the lane from the pub car park.

"Sorry?" I replied, feigning ignorance about what she was asking.

"Come off it, young man. What are you running away from and why?"

I didn't answer her.

"Come on, what is it? A girl or a wife? No, I don't think you're the type to run out on a wife, bit young for kids anyway. So it's got to be a girl, but why haven't you been in touch with your family since you've been up here? I know it's only three days but you haven't called a soul."

Shit, if I didn't tell Bev she'd have written her own scenario by the time we got to the cash and carry.

"It was a girl, Beverley. I discovered that she's been sleeping with a squaddy behind my back. To be honest, I get the feeling that I was the diversion whilst he's been stationed overseas."

"Oh, nasty of her. Stringing you along, was she?"

"Yeah, you could say that!"

"But why haven't you been in touch with your family though?"

"They took her side. To their mind, I was at fault!"

"How do they work that one out?"

"Please don't ask, Bev. It's all too damned complicated for me to think about."

"Fine, as you wish, Mack. I'll not ask any more. But we'll need to get the legal side of things sorted out; I'm going to need your P45 before too long."

"I'll call my old boss and have it sen..." I stopped speaking as I realised that I didn't want to let Peters know where I was living. There was a chance he'd tell Lindsey or even my family. Okay I was probably being bloody minded, but for the time being at least I wanted to have disappeared off the face of the earth as far as everyone was concerned. Beverley must have realised what I was thinking.

"Don't worry about it, Mack. I'll give you the address of a pub in Norwich and they can forward it on from there. My sister and her husband are the landlords there; they won't tell anyone where you are if they can help it."

We filled Bev's car up with all kinds of stock that she needed for the pub and then returned. She told me that she might need me to run down there on my own sometimes, mentioning that Millie didn't drive and that her daughters were at college a lot of the time.

We hadn't been back at the pub long when the brewery dray arrived. For the next hour or so I was down in the cellar with Millie swinging barrels and beer crates around. I was surprised that, for her size, Millie could handle a full barrel of beer better than I could. Mind, she had had the practice and she had some extra weight, if you understand me.

I think it was during that afternoon that I realised that Millie's Bristols rubbing against my back hadn't been as accidental as I'd thought it had. I knew Millie's appendages were somewhat larger than most. But none of the other women - Beverley, Patricia or Michelle - seemed to find it necessary when they passed behind me. Well, to the extent that I felt Millie's tits on my back anyway.

Although I was damned sure that both Michelle and Patricia backed into me - supposedly accidentally - more than once. Michelle commented, "Oh, I see you enjoyed that!" on one occasion, then giggling to herself as she carried the drinks she'd been pouring out into the garden.

Yeah, well, all four women had damned fine figures and both Patricia and Michelle wore rather short cut off denims and blouses tied just below their breasts, leaving a large area of bare midriff showing. "Does wonders for the tips from the dirty old men!" Patricia said when I complimented her on her appearance one day. "But keep your hands to yourself or mother will castrate you. Either that, or Millie will scratch my eyes out. She's after sampling your wares, you know?"

I didn't reply, figuring it was better to feign ignorance again. But Millie was to prove Pat correct the following morning. Bev had gone off somewhere; I assumed that the girls had left for college early. I was down in the cellar with Millie where she was showing me how to clean out the pipes when it happened.