Lonely Girl

He gave Barney a little push and the dog went straight into Rosie’s arms. Holding him tight, she laughed out loud when he began washing her face with his long pink tongue.

‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ John promised, ‘and with luck I’ll have your mother in tow. Now remember, before I come into the house I’ll call up to you. When you hear my voice, take a little peep through the window to make absolutely sure it’s me. D’you understand?’

Feeling safe and loved, Rosie assured him that she did.

‘Right then, sweetheart … I’m glad we managed to clear the air and I’m glad we’ve been honest with each other. We should have had this little chat long ago, but we’ll do it again, I promise. Now I’d best be off.’

For the next few minutes, Rosie heard her father going from room to room, securing her inside the house. Then she heard him close the front door and she waited for the click of the key in the lock. When she heard that she ran back to the window and gingerly turned up a corner of the curtain in order to catch a glimpse of him.

For a moment or so she could not pick out his tall, strong figure; then he passed under the big automatic security lights attached to the largest building in the yard.

Last winter, after a spate of thefts from farms in the area, Rosie’s father had made this barn strong and secure enough to house his valuable farming equipment.

Rosie watched him, thinking he cut a fine figure in his long dark coat, his black-and-white checked cap pulled down to his brow. ‘Love you, Daddy,’ she whispered. She thought about her mother, out there doing whatever it was she did and not caring who might be at home worrying about her.

Within moments her father was gone, having quickly dodged through the space between two farm buildings to cut across the fields. Rosie often used that same short cut into town, but never in the dark. The very idea made her shiver with fright.

Now, with the dog nudging her, she carefully lowered the curtain and turned to fuss him. ‘Well, Barney, Daddy says we have to stay here and not open the door to anyone.’ She giggled. ‘Though I reckon if anyone tried to get in here, you’d have them for breakfast, wouldn’t you, eh?’

Looking up with soulful eyes, the dog stretched out on the carpet to await his master’s return, although Rosie knew he would leap up should he be needed.

‘I think it’s time the pair of you called it a day.’ Peggy Benson, the landlady of the Magpie, was none too pleased when Molly Tanner refused to climb down from the bar stool. In truth, having been made irritable by the booze, she was actively looking for trouble.

‘Come on, Molly,’ Mrs Benson insisted. ‘I need to lock up now. If you don’t mind.’

‘Hey! What’s your problem, lady?’ As she leaned forward, Molly was in danger of tumbling from her perch. ‘Want us out, do you? OK then, but before we leave, it would be nice to have one last drink … on the house, perhaps, as I’m one of the staff.’

‘Sorry! No more booze for you two … at least not in this pub,’ the landlady insisted.

‘Is that so?’ Molly was in fighting mood. ‘Right then, we’re not budging from here. Not until we’ve had another round to finish off the evening. Go on, off you go … back behind the bar!’ She waggled her finger towards the rows of bottles. ‘My friend will have a pint of your best beer, and another G&T for yours truly – and don’t skimp on the gin this time.’ She laughed as she dug a handful of coins from her handbag. ‘See!’ She threw the coins across the bar. ‘I’ve got money, if you’re too tight to give us them on the house, so you needn’t worry about that.’

‘I don’t want your money, Molly, I want the pair of you out of here,’ said Mrs Benson, swallowing down a retort at the difficult woman’s insults. ‘It’s way past closing time, and I am not serving you any more drinks. The bar is officially closed so the two of you might as well get off.’

‘We will, but not until you pour us each a generous nightcap.’

‘Sorry, did you not hear me? I just told you, there will be no more drinks served here tonight. So take your fancy man and get off home.’ She added with a knowing smile, ‘I’m sure your husband is wondering where you are.’ Leaning forward, she lowered her voice confidentially. ‘I’m thinking maybe I should call him to come and get you.’

‘What! You spiteful old cow!’ Agitated, Molly dashed the empty glasses off the bar. ‘You’d best mind your own damned business if you know what’s good for you!’

She glared at the landlady before ambling over to her companion, a small-built, wiry fellow with a shock of fair hair and a well-worn but curiously attractive face. A man well versed in chiselling a living out of anything that came his way, whether legal or otherwise.

Right now, though, he was lying prostrate on the floor. ‘Come on, you …’ Tugging at his coat sleeve, Molly tried to get him up, but the more she struggled and failed, the sulkier he got.

‘Bugger off, Molly!’ Eventually, pushing her aside, he staggered to his feet, taking a moment to lean on the back of a chair. ‘I’ll have you know … I am quite capable of … woa!’ Giggling, he managed to stand up straight. ‘Like I said … I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

Eager to have them gone, Mrs Benson now took charge. With one hand she gripped Molly’s arm, and with the other she grabbed the man’s shoulder, then marched the two of them across the room, and eased them over the threshold and into the outer foyer. ‘Good night then. Mind how you go.’

Satisfying herself that they seemed just about capable of walking away, the weary landlady watched them depart, smiling when she saw how Molly took charge.

The two drunks lumbered along the wide, empty pavement, laughing and joshing and pushing each other onwards. When a lonely dog threatened to cock its leg over her, Molly gave it a swift kick in the nether regions. ‘Dirty hound, bugger off!’

As she hurriedly closed the outer doors, Peggy Benson heard Molly’s angry departing words.

‘Go on, get back inside, you old trout! Call yourself a landlady? Well, I won’t forget this night in a hurry, you see if I don’t! I’ll put word out that you take your customers’ money then chuck ’em out into the night like some old rubbish.’

‘You can tell ’em whatever you like, Molly.’ Mrs Benson did not feel threatened. She was used to dealing with difficult customers and staff, especially the formidable Molly Tanner. Over the years, she had learned to take it all in her stride, knowing by now that any aggravation would be forgotten by the morning.

Molly was irritated to find that while she’d been threatening the landlady her companion had broken rank and was now lolloping along in front, seemingly with no idea of where he might be headed.

Quickening her footsteps, she caught up with him. ‘Hey, you dozy sod, Tom. Where the devil d’you think you’re going? That’s the wrong way.’ She gave him a shove to halt his progress. ‘You should have turned off back there, down Edward Street. You’ve gone straight past it, you daft bugger!’

‘Oh, Molly darlin’, don’t be like that.’ His small bright eyes shone out of a face reddened by too much beer. ‘I must have missed the turning in the dark, that’s all.’ Refreshed by the cold night air, he turned round, and headed back towards Edward Street. ‘It’s all right, though,’ he grumbled sulkily, ‘I get the message. You don’t want me, but that’s OK ’cause I can manage without you. And for your information, I can find my own way home, thank you.’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, stop moaning!’

Linking her arm with his, she pulled him forward, much to his delight. ‘Hey! Behave yourself, woman!’ he joshed. ‘Anyone would think you were after getting your wicked way with me.’

There was no doubt that Molly Tanner was still a very attractive woman, with those dark alluring eyes … he looked up at her now, as she walked along. Something she did with her hips reminded him of Marilyn Monroe in that film where she plays the ukulele …

He felt rather proud – so proud that he felt brave enough to address her with a suggestive wink and a knowing smile. ‘Hey … Molly darlin’ …’

‘What now?’

‘I’m not ready to go home just yet.’

‘What d’you mean? If you’re not going home, where the devil d’you think you’re going?’

‘I’ve no idea. When I’m with you, Molly, I can’t even think straight.’ He giggled childishly. ‘I really don’t have a single idea about where I’m going, except … well, I want to go where you’re going because, like I said, I’m not ready for home just yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you and me, we have unfinished business.’

‘Oh, yes? And what kind of “business” would that be, eh?’ As if she didn’t know.

Tom sniggered. ‘Ah, come on, Molly, you know very well what kind of “business”!’ Clumsily grabbing her by the shoulders, he drew her towards him. ‘My lovely, wonderful Molly Tanner! I’m not letting you go this time, at least not until we’ve said good night in a right and proper manner.’

‘I know what you’re after, you crafty devil,’ Molly teased him, laughing. ‘You’re after a goodnight kiss from your old sweetheart, isn’t that it?’

‘Sort of, yes, but I want a bit more than that. We both do, and don’t you deny it, Molly … because drunk or sober, you want me as much as I want you. Go on! Admit it.’

‘I do not want you, Tom Stevens. At least not in that way.’

‘Yes, you do, and we both know it.’

‘All right then … maybe I did, a long time back. But I’m over you now.’

‘Liar! You still want me. I know it. So, come on, be honest with me, Molly darlin’ … you an’ me together, like it used to be. Tell me the truth – you do want that, don’t you?’