Reader fiction: One for the road

By Jane Richards

The shouting was loud enough to be embarrassing. "Come on, let me in. Look, I'm sorry OK?"

He made a somewhat pitiful sight, stooping down unsteadily, peering through the letterbox, pleading for forgiveness. "This is the last time, I promise. Please let me in. I guarantee that I will never touch another drink again. I didn't realise it meant so much to you. Please Siobhan!"

Eventually, after about two minutes of shouting, which seemed more like 20 minutes, Finn’s remonstrations earned a response: “No it isn't OK You've gone too far this time. I've warned you time and time again. Dr O’Neil has warned you. But do you listen? No, you don't! Six months later and you're still carrying on exactly as you always have. This time it's different. I'm no longer prepared to stand by while you ruin everyone's lives, spending our hard-earned money, arriving home the worse for wear and killing yourself in the process. I've only put up with it before for the sake of the children, and that's no longer a constraint. Well now I've had enough. Go back to your beloved pub and think about yourself and what you've become. For heaven's sake get your life sorted out. This time I mean it. This time I won't be talked round."

The tone in her voice was different. There was a determination about her, a new anger, almost sounding like fear. Perhaps he should listen to her and to those who know him and to those who care about him. Perhaps they can't all be wrong after all.

Slowly, and slightly more steadily, he walks away, heading almost robotically in the direction that he has taken virtually every evening for the last 8 years, since the day they moved to the village. He pauses, as he enters the park, reflecting on his predicament, saddened that it has come to this, after all these years, after all he has worked for. All it takes is 45 minutes. 45 minutes to decide that the last 20 years have been mismanaged. 45 minutes to realise that she is right and that Dr O’Neil is right, that all who care about him are right. Three quarters of an hour to see that he has to change, that there is no alternative, for the sake of all he holds dear - his family, his health and his self-respect.

Yes, he thinks. He will speak to her, not in anger, but sensibly and calmly, rationally and earnestly. Yes, he will go round first thing in the morning before she goes to work. Her shift doesn't start until late.

He strolls back to the pub, somewhat more clear-headedly than before. All he wants now is an orange juice and a bed for the night. Sean always has one or two rooms available. There is never much demand for accommodation at The Harp. After all who would choose to stay in a back of beyond place like Choillghlas voluntarily?

As he enters the pub he is greeted with sympathetic, or are they actually embarrassed glances. Conor looks up and strolls over. “Pint, Finn?”  “Just make it an OJ, please Conor. Also, I’m going to need a room tonight if possible” he continued. “Ah, ok. Yes of course”, Conor replied. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. I’ll get the guvnor to book you in when he comes downstairs. It’s his night off tonight but he always appears sometime regardless, usually just before last orders.”

Ten minutes later, as if on-queue, landlord Sean appears from the upstairs flat. Conor quickly updates him on the situation, while Finn sits staring into the bottom of his half-empty glass, the contents of which are proving harder to empty than would normally be the case for him.

Sean has always had a sensitive side. That is so important in a pub landlord, Finn has always thought. It’s certainly preferable to the “life and soul” types at many of the other establishments. Not that Choillghlas itself has any other establishments, licensed or otherwise. It really is the pub or nothing here unless you are prepared to travel further afield, which Finn certainly isn’t if he can avoid it.

After an exchange between the two colleagues, Sean disappears to see which room is in a fit enough state to take a paying guest, even for a guest who isn’t in a particularly fit enough state himself.

When he returns, Sean pulls up a chair and speaks softly to Finn. “While I was out the back a few minutes ago I took a call on the pub phone from Siobhan.” Finn looks up, somewhat surprised. “She thinks that she may have gone a bit overboard earlier”, Sean continues. “Apparently she’d had the mother of all bad days at the mall. Something about ‘stroppy, ignorant and ill-mannered customers’. She thinks that she took it out on you, probably much more than you deserved, and is feeling bad about it. She wants you to come home. She tried messaging you but …”. “But, 21st century mobile phone coverage hasn’t yet arrived in deepest Choillghlas?” offered Finn. “Exactly! Why don’t I get you a quick coffee and drive you home?”

“Thanks Sean. If it’s no trouble, that would be great. I owe you. Can we skip the coffee and just get straight off? You’ve done more than enough as it is.”

At that point they head off into the car park for the short journey home.  “I really appreciate this, Sean”. “My pleasure”, Sean replied. “It’s the least I can do.”

As he gets out of the car and walks towards the front door, Finn is invigorated, with a feeling of both relief and hope, a new elation, a new beginning, a new outlook, a new chapter in his life.

He tries the key in the door, his hand shaking slightly in anticipation. Oh God, he thinks. What if this is just a huge wind-up orchestrated by some of the pub regulars? What if it wasn’t Siobhan on the phone? He was certainly getting quite a few sideways glances from the other punters throughout his second visit.

If it was her, what if she really told Sean that she never wanted to see her drunken slob of a husband again and that he could stay at the pub for good for all she cared, and Sean’s gambling on a change of heart when he turns up on the doorstep again?

He needn't have worried. The door slipped open easily. She was standing in the hallway in her dressing gown, smiling, almost politely. "Come on. I think we've had quite enough excitement for one day" she whispered before waving to Sean as he drove off to make his way back to The Harp.

"I meant what I said earlier" Finn affirmed "I'm different now, I've changed. Tomorrow, I'm going on the wagon. No more pub binges from now on."

"Let's talk about it in the morning" she said. "I don't need to be in work until mid-day. We’ll both have clearer heads then."

Finn gets undressed and into bed, carefully pulling the covers up to his chin, revealing an odd sock on the bed, a horrible black sock with bright red stripes down the sides. Finn hated clothes like that. Too bright, too garish, way too brash. What was wrong with grey? He's worn grey socks all his life. Smart enough for work or leisure. He wouldn’t be seen dead wearing anything like that, so why did his children think he’d ever wear them? That must be why Siobhan reluctantly donated them to the local church charity jumble sale when no-one was looking, to avoid upsetting anyone, she mused, as she carefully picked it up and put it into her dressing gown pocket, unnoticed by Finn who, by then had already closed his eyes, before turning out the light. Why did he decide to come home early today of all days?

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she smiled.

“Goodnight. Everything is going to be alright from now on, isn't it?”

"Yes, now go to sleep. There's plenty of time for talking. Our whole lives, in fact."

"Yes, things are going to be very different from now on," he said, as she smiled and as he turned over to go to sleep.

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