Resentments and Revenge by Diane Ezzard

Author:Diane Ezzard [Ezzard, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-24T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Jack

Pubs had changed over the years. Even the smell was different now. It used to be cigarette smoke that clung to my hair, clothes and the furnishings. Nowadays, it was strong, overpowering aftershaves and perfumes mixed in with the pungent scent of body odour. There was no mistaking the booze though. At one time, I could get euphoric breathing in stale beer when I walked in a place, but not anymore. Today, it knocked me sick, both thinking about it and whiffing it.

I arrived at the pub where Barry worked. This wasn’t one of those establishments where the brewery spent money modernising it, nor was it pristine and more like a restaurant. It was a proper pub full of the great unwashed. This was the sort of place you bought your knocked off gear, from joints of meat to joints of cannabis, it was all here. I could guarantee there’d be a deal taking place at any given moment — TVs, trainers, sports gear, ladies’ underwear, replica designer wear. This was why the British High Street was going under. Nothing to do with your big malls opening.

It was also the kind of place where you met the most unsavoury of characters, the great criminal hangout. They could put pictures on the walls of the most notorious scoundrels from these parts now doing time. I imagined half the old regulars were now banged up inside over one thing or another. From debauchery to alcoholism, drug dealing to fraud, this place, like many similar establishments, had it all. Let the MPs spend an hour in here. They’d soon find out what life was really like for the locals. No one came in here with anything wholesome in mind. You wouldn’t find any do-gooders around this area.

I listened to the sound of glasses clinking as I walked towards the bar. It was busier than the last time I was here. Pool, darts, quiz nights and karaoke had so far saved this one from going under like many of the other local pubs. There was a darts match in progress and laughter overpowered the jukebox. I heard the humming of conversations. The first time I visited, I thought it wouldn’t be long before the bailiffs came and shut the place down. Tonight, was totally different, a hive of activity.

There were some younger people in. Not just the local drunks stood in the corner. A gang of lads hung around the bar, back slapping and laughing. I watched as a woman in her thirties in a figure-hugging dress moved from one guy to the next, working the small crowd. She flashed a smile from her heavily made-up face and in an instant as if by magic a bar stool was put in front of her. She gracefully popped her petite derriere onto the seat and slowly crossed her legs, dangling a high heeled stiletto and flashing her thighs.

I’d give it an hour before this convivial atmosphere turned into something much darker. It would start

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