Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,22

nod at a rather bemused Clooney.

‘Actually, Clooney,’ Lenny says. ‘Have you completed a food and hygiene course?’

‘Err…’ he looks to me. ‘No. I didn’t actually get one.’

He shakes his head, making a note on his clipboard. ‘Well then we’ll have to book you on before you can be serving food.’

Crap I didn’t even think to ask if he had that. Perfect time to run away, while he’s distracted.

I turn and run through the pub, out the door and down to the lake. I throw the dead rat into the bushes and then before I can rationalise with myself, I run down the short pier and jump into the water, needing to feel clean again.

I plunge down deep into freezing, cold darkness and scramble to emerge, quickly realising this was a stupid idea. I finally open my mouth and gasp in some oxygen to my burning lungs. That’s when everything hits me all at once; the dead rat in my hands, the leaving England, being tied to this failing pub, humiliated in front of the town, having my thumb nail cut off, Garry cheating on me, probably getting shut down by health and safety. It’s all so un-bloody fair.

I throw my head back and let out a scream. An ear piercing screech that echoes around the trees and off into the distance. I’m out of breath from the exertion but feel strangely better. It was quite satisfying.

I swim, my limbs heavy and tired, to the edge and struggle to get out. It’s not easy with my wet clothes weighing me down. It’s not like it has a convenient ladder or anything. I have to throw myself onto the wooded pier and drag myself up.

I’m so exhausted once I’ve lifted myself out, I just lay on my back and stare up at the clouded sky, trying to catch my breath. I’ve never felt so hopeless in my life. My whole life I’ve battled and sought out responsibility, but now I feel it crushing against my shoulders, dragging me to the floor.

I don’t think I could stand if I wanted to. Not that I do. Right now I’m content with just staring at the grey clouds. I don’t believe in God, my parents insisted that I wasn’t to buy into a mass-produced religion only there to make us feel guilty, but sometimes, I really wish I did. Wish I could tell some stranger in the sky all of my problems and feel a glimmer of hope that someone is trying to sort shit out for me.

Instead I just have myself to rely on. Always myself. Sometimes I wish I had someone. Someone stronger than Ella, who I could rely on for a change. I can’t rely on our parents that’s for sure.

‘Phoebe!’ I hear my name shouted in the distance.

I attempt weakly to raise my head, but I can’t be bothered. Every bone in my body is tired of forcing myself through this bullshit we call a life.

‘Phoebe!’ A voice calls again, this time closer. ‘Shit, Phoebe!’

I turn to face the voice, but a shadow is already leaning over me. I look up to see Clooney frowning down at me.

‘Shit, you’re freezing. Did you fall in?’ He takes his leather jacket off and wraps it round me. It smells of him; a mix of cinnamon, mint and cigarette smoke.

I try to answer him, I really do this time, but it’s like the words won’t form on my lips.

He scoops his arms under my body and then I’m heaved upwards and into his chest. His body feels deliciously warm. I feel myself curling into it like a cat as he rocks me to sleep.

He bangs the pub door open with his back reminding me to stay awake.

‘Phoebe?’ I hear Ella say on a gasp. ‘Quick, take her upstairs.’

I feel the thudding of him running up the stairs and then I’m placed on the floor of my room.

He starts grabbing at my long sleeved t-shirt. What the hell is he doing? I try to stop him, but it’s like my brain isn’t communicating properly with my body.

I hear a strange noise close to my ears. It’s only when I zone in on it, I realise it’s my own teeth chattering. He throws my t-shirt over my head and then he’s unbuttoning my jeans.

‘What the hell happened to her?’ Ella asks him, arriving with towels.

‘I think she fell in,’ he says, yanking my jeans down to my ankles.

I want to tell them I jumped in. That