Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Will

W hen the bar came into view, my breath caught as it usually did. Still unable to believe that it was mine. I knew I'd had a leg up from Miriam, but I'd still put my heart and soul into it. It hadn't been the best of places when I'd bought it. It had been a pet shop at one time until the owner had done a bunk, leaving behind a load of birds and guinea pigs. Being abandoned for years, it was run down, full of rotten wood and an infestation of rats, courtesy of the bird food still stored in there. That almost made me throw the towel in—I fucking hated rats. It was the tails and those beady little eyes. The place was mine, though, and when it came on sale in the little town that I lived with Mrs Powell I knew that I had to have it.

I knew that the cash from Miriam would only go so far with the money pit that I'd decided to buy. That meant for a long time I carried on with my pub job in the day and a little night security work at a factory that made steel valves. Thankfully, my old friend and neighbour, Sam, and his wife Louise were more than happy to have Maddy stay with them a few nights a week. It wasn't ideal, but for a couple of years it was necessary.

Now, though, the bar was finished, and aside from Maddy, it was my biggest pride and joy. Finished to a quality standard, it was a cool place to hang out for a whole range of Norford inhabitants. It wasn't like a typical pub, so we tended to get the younger crowd at night and the older ones during the day to drink coffee or the odd bottle of wine. We also seemed to be on a good route for minibuses of hen and stag parties going into Manchester, so unlike a lot of pubs and bars, we were doing okay.

Flicking through the post that I'd picked up on my way in, I lifted the bar flap and made my way to the back office. I could hear the clinking of bottles coming from the cellar and knew that Marcus, my head bar tender, had already arrived. Going to the door at the top of the stairs, I shouted down to him.

"Marcus, you want a brew?"

His blond head appeared, and he looked up at me, wiping the sweat from his brow. Cellar work was hard, and I didn't envy him in the stifling heat of the cellar. I made a mental note to look into a portable aircon machine for down there.

"Yep," he replied. "Make it a strong one."

I grinned. "Heavy night?"

"Could say that." He winked and then disappeared.

Marcus was me twenty years ago, before I knew I had a daughter. I'd lost count of the number of women I'd seen leave his flat, which was above the bar. Women of all ages and sizes had been in the guy's bed, and he showed no shame for it. And why should he, if they were willing? Each one I'd seen looked happy, leaving with a smile on her face.

I threw the post down on my desk and then doubled back to the kitchen to get us some tea. We didn't do meals as such, mainly because it was a pain in the arse trying to find and then keep a decent chef in such a small place. Those who were any good didn't stay long because they got poached by one of the big bars in Manchester or Liverpool. We therefore served chips, bacon and sausage butties, and the odd burger that the bar staff could easily throw together.

When I saw the dirty dishes on the side, I sighed heavily. Dylan was our dish washer and glass collector and wasn't supposed to go home until the kitchen was clean of plates and glasses. This was the third time in two weeks, and I was getting a little pissed off. He was a thin, wiry guy who I had a feeling had a drug habit. If he didn't, he had the longest lasting cold in history. He never stopped sniffing.

"Fuck," Marcus said from behind me. "Did he leave dirty plates again?"

I half-turned to him and sighed. "Yeah, I think I'm going to have to give him a warning."

"Let the fucker go," Marcus replied, reaching for two mugs from the shelf. "He was late twice last week as well."

I set about making us a cup of tea each, thinking that I needed to find a new dish washer like I needed to a hole in the head. Norford was small, once upon a time being just a small village of about three thousand people. It had grown over the last fifty years but was still small. With two major cities only one or two hours away, and the nearest large town only eight miles up the road, the place was not awash with people who wanted to work for minimum wage and free booze six nights a week.

"I'll have a word with him," I said as I watched the kettle boil. "Unless you know someone who'd like the job."

Marcus laughed. "Sorry, boss. Although I think my grandad is looking for something to get him out of the house. Grandma is hormonal as fuck apparently."

I groaned inwardly because Marcus' grandparents were only twenty five years older than me. When I thought about how fast the last twenty five years had gone by, I knew it wouldn't be long before I could be in their shoes. Not that any guy would be getting his hands on my little girl until she was at least forty or fifty.

Marcus nudged me. "You've got that look on your face. The one you get when I tell you how pretty Maddy is getting."

I narrowed my gaze on him. "I will cut your dick off, believe me."

"As if I'd even attempt to go there," he scoffed. "Like you said, you'd cut my dick off."

"She wouldn't look twice at you anyway." I turned back to the kettle, which was ready, and poured water into both mugs. "Sugar, seeing as you had a big night?"

"Yep, I need the rush. I didn't get to sleep until five this morning. Then I had to meet the delivery at seven."

"Poor baby," I said with no hint of sympathy.

"I heard you used to be just as bad." I handed him the mug and watched as he took a sip, wincing at the heat and the sweetness, since as I'd overdone it on the sugar. "Shit, we really need to buy better tea bags."

"No, we don't." I took a drink and had to agree it wasn't great. "We get better tea bags, and the staff will drink more of it and then I'll have to buy more and that will cost me money."

"Shit, it's a good job you're a great boss because that's just mean."

I shrugged. "Times are hard, mate, and I have to save cash where I can." The next sip was better as my taste buds started to adjust to it. "Anyway, who's been talking about me?"

"Lucas Tandy."

"Little fucker needs to concentrate on his own life instead of gossiping about mine." Lucas Tandy and I had gone to school together when I lived with Mrs Powell, and he liked to make out that we were good friends. We were not, and he had no clue what I got up to after I left Norford. I came back once a week to have dinner with Mrs P, God rest her soul, not to party with Lucas.

"I hear his wife caught him with Debbie Godfrey again."

"Yeah I heard. She really needs to kick his arse into touch."

"She's pretty cute actually," Marcus said with a faraway look in his eye. "I don't think I've ever had a woman fifteen years older than me."

I shook my head, despairing of him but knowing I'd been just the same. Although I never hooked up with an older women. "Steer clear of Alice Tandy, Marcus. That's a whole load of trouble that you do not want to get involved in."

He winked and pulled out a stool. "Maybe. I'll see if she needs a confidence boost."

"I mean it, Marcus. If Lucas decides to get nasty with you do not come to me asking for help."

He held his hand up, palm facing me. "Okay, okay, I get it. No porking Alice Tandy."

"Fucking hell, Marcus," I groaned. "No wonder you manage to get a load of women with that charm and silver tongue."

"Hey," he said. "There's nothing silver about my tongue, it's pure platinum." He wiggled his tongue around. "You ask Ella from last night."

Rolling my eyes, I decided I would be much better off in my office dealing with bills. Moving into its semi-darkness, I opened the blinds and then rolled out the chair to sit down. The first envelope I opened was a bill, as was the second and the third. Finally, when I'd mentally cleaned out my bank account, I opened an invitation for the wedding of Amber a girl who had worked for me a couple of years before.

"Everyone is getting fucking married," I muttered to myself, throwing the invitation to one side. It was for me and Maddy, which made me laugh. That was how good my love life was— people seemed to think that the only date I could get was my daughter.

I really needed to do something about it, for my own sake as much as anything. The long-term relationship I had with my right hand was beyond boring. Norford was a small town, and I had a seventeen-year-old in the next room to me. Options were limited. Maybe the stag party at the weekend was coming just at the right time.