She puts her hand on the shoulder of a man in a sky-blue button-up shirt that needs more of the buttons done up. He has a comb-over that is three shades too dark for his eyebrows and an ‘it’s nice to meet the little people’ smile.
When I walk over, he extends his hand. “Dennis Beckham, at your service. And yes,heis a close relative.”
“I heard. He’s quite the soccer star.”
“Football!” Peter yells from behind the bar. “The proper name for it is football.”
“Don’t mind him, he gets a little testy about his precious football game,” Nettie says.
“Well, you should use the proper name for a sport,” he answers, filling a glass from the tap. “Not just steal the name for some senseless game, then rename the right one with a word that means nothing.”
“Oh, come on, Peter,” Dennis says, swiping one hand in the air. “Don’t start that again. You’ll insult our new American friend here.”
All eyes turn to me, and I feel my face and neck growing uncomfortably hot. “No, you won’t. I don’t have an opinion on the matter. Sports, that is. Word usage, though, I do care about. And in that case, I think Peter’s right. We should have come up with another name for our version of football.”
Apparently, I’m on the losing side of the debate because my comments lead to jeers and muttering.
Peter glances around the room with a satisfied smile. “There you have it, folks. A professional in the ways of the English language has settled the debate, once and for all.” He gestures for me to come to the bar. “Here’s a free Guinness for you, love.”
Beer in hand, I search for an empty chair, accidentally making eye contact with Gus, who waves to me. “Come and meet the ball and chain.”
His wife sits next to him, looking all kinds of weary, and I’m pretty sure I can guess why. She has short blond hair with sprinkles of white throughout and, although she gives me a warm smile, her eyes make her look dead inside. “Hello, Abby. Thanks for hiring Colton to do your yard. It’s been good for him to get out of the house.”
Gus speaks up over the din of the crowd. “Did you hear that, folks? Colton’s starting his own lawn services business. If you want to check out his work, stop by next door at the McMasters’ place.”
My head snaps back at the idea, and June, who is clearly less oblivious than her husband, says, “Gus, don’t be inviting people to someone else’s house. That’s rude.”
He gives her a pointed look. “Do you want him out of the house or not, woman?”
“Not enough to be obnoxious about it,” she says.
You tell him, June.
They start to bicker, giving me an opportunity to search out a spot on the opposite side of the pub from Gus. Turning, I see Liam smiling at me, looking like he’s had a few drinks already. He pats the vacant spot next to his. “Hey Miss Duckie Pants,” he calls. “I saved you a seat.”
This starts a buzz of gossip, and I glare at him as I take in bits of conversation about how we’d make such a nice couple and it’s about time Liam found someone. I am really going to have to stock my fridge with beer because I’m not doing this again.
Nettie must be able to read my mind, because she speaks up, “Now shush, all of you. Abby here is not looking for a man, so just leave her well enough alone, or she’ll never come back.”
Exactly. I start across the room, raising my voice. “Thank you, Nettie. I appreciate your help, but I assure you, idle gossip has little effect on how I live my life.”
And to prove it, I sit down next to Liam. This turns out to be big news because it sets off more laughter and knowing smiles from around the room.
“Well done,” he says under his breath. Leaning in a bit, he says, “You look lovely tonight, by the way.”
“Thanks, friend,” I answer, trying not to enjoy being called lovely.
Nettie carries a tray of drinks to the table. “Now then, Abby, good that you came because Liam’s had us all preparing a song for you.”
What? Oh, for God’s sake. My heart jumps to my throat and I turn to Liam with pleading eyes. Under my breath, I say, “What are you doing?”
He leans in with a confident smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll love it.” Raising his voice, he says, “Shall we?”
One of the women lifts her flute to her mouth and starts up a few melancholy notes, then Nettie starts singing as she hands out the drink orders. I can’t understand the lyrics, but my nerves tingle as they all join in, Liam with his violin, James with some sort of Celtic pipes, and more of the women singing. I pick up my drink and suck half of it down, glancing around occasionally. This is quite possibly the most awkward moment of my life, especially when I accidentally make eye contact with anyone. Everyone in the place is simultaneously smiling at me while they play their instruments and/or sing. Do they not know how fucking creepy this is?
I lean toward Liam and whisper, “This better not be a love song.”
He just grins and continues to play.
