CHLOE

It is almost a fortnight before the dark-haired stranger - Harry - comes into the pub again. He enters alone this time, and I catch his eye almost immediately as he crosses the threshold, wiping his feet on the threadbare mat and letting the door bang shut behind him. I notice Katie watching him as he makes his way across the lounge towards the bar, hurrying to finish serving her customer with an urgency in her demeanour I have never seen before.

This brief moment of realisation sends a wave of smugness to the pit of my stomach, and I maintain eye contact with Harry as he approaches me, ready to take his order knowing full well Katie wants to serve him herself but isn't yet free.

"What can I get you?" I ask cheerfully.

"Pint."

Ah. A man of few words.

I take his lead and lean down silently to pick up a glass from the shelf, flipping it over and bringing it under the pump. I deliberately keep my eyes fixed on the lager filling the glass, tipping it upright at the last moment to capture the right amount of foam before setting it down in front of him. "Three fifty, please."

I attempt another smile, but feel my cheeks burning as he looks at me with a sneer and hands me a five pound note.

It wouldn't kill you to smile, is on the tip of my tongue, and I silently will myself to say it out loud as I drop the note into the till and bring back one fifty change, but my courage fails me of course, and he takes the coins from me without a word and turns away from me to sit at the same table as last time. I watch his back for a moment, and I am so lost in thought that I jump when Katie bangs a couple of dirty glasses on the bar next to me with a clatter.

"Shit!"

She says nothing, but glowers as she collects another couple of empties, carrying four in each hand now, and disappears backwards into the kitchen, pushing the door open with her backside as she goes, her face like thunder and deliberately avoiding eye contact with me.

My heart rate quickens, as it always does when I am faced with any form of possible confrontation. I can't help thinking she is furious with me for serving Harry, yet I have no clue why and I don't have the courage to ask. And at the same time, I feel unashamedly victorious at getting one over on her, after all the times she has put me down or laughed at me behind my back (and to my face). If the reason for her fury is something I have done, I know I will pay for it throughout the duration of my shift.

As if this isn't bad enough, my evening takes a turn for the worse when ten minutes later Chris enters the bar with his usual air of arrogance. Thankfully I am collecting glasses so Katie is forced to serve him. I know from experience that she can handle his chauvinistic attitude far better than I can, so I feel no guilt at taking a little longer than necessary to return the empties to the kitchen before taking up my place behind the bar again. Chris is sitting safely opposite Harry by this time, and I enjoy almost an hour of serving without disruption as the early evening rush sets in.

Around eight o'clock Chris stands up to get another round in, and makes a beeline for me. I feel a flutter of panic. He hasn't yet made any sort of derogatory comment towards me, which means one is definitely due. I feel Harry's eyes watching me as Chris approaches the bar, and out of the corner of my eye I see a faint smirk on his lips and my heart sinks as I wonder what is coming.

"No need to look so nervous, Chloe," Chris says silkily as I look up to meet his gaze.

"What can I get you?"

If I ignore his attempts to rattle me, maybe he will leave me alone.

"Depends what's on offer," he leers, the corner of his mouth curling up as his eyes roam my chest. 

"Usual?" I suggest, trying to avoid the path this is taking. "Pint, yeah?"

I hear the tremor in my own voice and I hate myself for it, because I know he will prey on any sign of weakness.

"Can't deny I want something wet." He emphasises this last word, and punctuates it with a flick of his tongue against his lips. He reminds me of a snake stalking its prey. I force myself not to flinch at his words. 

I begin pouring a pint of lager for him, and he watches me intently, with an expression of mild derision. "Make it two," he adds as I place the first one on the bar. I look up nervously to see if this is some sort of innuendo or joke at my expense, and my distraction causes my arm to knock the glass. It wobbles and I make a grab for it, but only succeed in knocking it over completely, the entire pint of lager throwing itself onto Chris' tshirt and splattering into his face.

I gasp in horror and he takes a step back with a hiss, foam dripping from the smattering of stubble on his chin.

"You fucking bitch!"

"I - I'm sorry," I whimper, mortified at the scene this is causing as the whole bar turns to stare. "It was an accident."

"You fucking threw it at me!" he thunders, brushing his hands down his top, flicking ale all over the floor and bar as I grab a couple of tea towels to mop up the mess. He snatches them from me, dabbing at his front fruitlessly, and Ian, the landlord, appears at my side.

"What's going on 'ere?" he asks.

"I spilt a pint -" I begin.

"Fucking bitch threw it over me 'cause she can't take a bit of fucking banter," Chris spits.

"Wha - I didn't!" I protest, turning to Ian, my eyes wide. "I knocked it, it was an accident! I would never - not on purpose... I'm sorry."

"Clean it up," Ian instructs me, without an ounce of sympathy. "Chris - next one's on the house. Tone it down a bit, yeah?"

"I ordered two," Chris replies, without even a word of thanks as I throw the sopping wet towels onto the counter behind me and grab another two clean glasses. "Frigid bitch," he sneers, as I manage to pour two pints of lager successfully, without spilling any.

"Chris," Ian murmurs warningly, and Chris takes the pints with a sneer and returns to his table. Harry chuckles softly at something as he sits down, and Ian inclines his head at me, towards the kitchen. I collect the wet towels, my eyes filling with tears, and follow him through the door out of earshot of the bar.

"I didn't throw it at him," I insist, my voice bordering on a wail.

"You wasted a perfectly good pint. I can't afford for you to be throwing the profits away like that."

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

"You need to toughen up, girl, or I'll have to let you go."

I stare at Ian in horror, my heart pounding. "But... but I need this job," I whisper.

"Then you'd better pull your finger out and learn to deal with him. He brings a lot of business in here. I can't afford for him to take it elsewhere."

In other words, Chris conducts all his drug deals in the bar, so most of his pathetic customers spend a few quid with each visit.

"He speaks to us like shit!" I argue. "He makes me feel disgusting."

Ian shrugs. "Then look for another job. Plenty out there who'll take your place. Rinse those towels out and get back behind the bar."

I hadn't expected Ian to defend me, but hearing him side with that vile excuse for a human being has rendered me speechless. He exits the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving me standing alone with my mouth open in shock, staring after him.

I rinse the tea towels in the sink, squeeze out the excess water and hang them over a radiator to dry. I return to the bar and ignore the stares of the punters, wishing away every minute of the rest of my shift so I can scurry home to my miserable flat and breathe freely. Chris causes no further trouble, and leaves the bar at closing time with Harry while Ian, Katie and I tidy the bar, load the dishwasher and wipe down the tables ready for the following day. 

Katie is first out the door once we have finished, before I have even untied my apron, and I take my time hanging it up on the back of the kitchen door, not wishing to bump into her on my way out and be forced to make idle conversation with her. Ian lets me out of the main door and hands me a couple of empty crisp boxes.

"Chuck these in the bins at the back on your way round, will you?"

I take them from him, as I am passing the back of the pub on my way home anyway, and the door shuts with a clatter behind me, the bolt sliding into place and the lock turning with a screech.

I hurry quickly up the path and round the corner, keeping in the light from the street lamps and avoiding the shadows. I'm not just being unnecessarily cautious - everyone knows this area isn't safe at night, and I have no desire to be even more of a victim than I already am.

I turn up the narrow street behind the pub, and noiselessly approach the back gate where the bins are kept. I can hear a low, hushed moan, and I quicken my pace; eager to throw the cardboard into the skip and get out of here. I slip through the gate, and just as I am about to swing the empty boxes up into the bin I catch sight of someone in the shadows, leaning back against the wall. 

I freeze on the spot in fear, holding my breath, as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I can make out a tall shape and for a second I think someone is flattening themselves against the wall of the pub, hiding from something, until I see movement and hear another soft moan. I stare into the blackness for a moment before I realise it is Harry I am looking at, and he isn't alone. Katie is on her knees in front of him, her head gripped between both his hands at crotch level, and the moans I heard are coming from Harry. Neither of them has seen me: Katie has her back to me, her head bobbing up and down, clearly focussed on the task at hand, and Harry's eyes are closed. 

I set the cardboard down silently, and back away through the gate, out onto the street again under the safety of the lights, and break into a run. Boarded up shop fronts, overflowing bins and a group of teenagers pass with a blur. I don't stop until I have reached my flat, fumbling with my key and ramming it into the lock, turning it impatiently and pushing my way in, slamming the door behind me and sliding the chain into place.

I lean back against the cold wall, my heart hammering, my insides trembling, a layer of sweat covering my entire body. 

I cannot survive another day in this hellhole, yet there is no way out. I am stuck here, life stretching infinitely before me, surrounded by the dregs of society, and fighting becoming one of them.