We head inside and the barman grins and waves at me like I’m someone he knows.
‘Wine?’ he asks, but the upward inflection is subtle, like he’s only really pretending it’s a question to be polite.
‘Please,’ I reply.
‘And for me, thanks,’ Tyler adds.
I take out my wallet so I can pay and the barman looks at me in confusion.
‘When did I last charge you for a drink, Raven?’
Wow. This Bethany really does know this guy. ‘Oh … I …’
‘You know I’ll never charge you. Not after everything. I mean, just look at this place.’ He motions around him, at thepristine decor and gleaming metal beer taps, rows of glasses glinting in the soft lighting.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, feeling a desperate desire to run away. I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.
‘Have you been being coy with me, Bethany?’ Tyler says with mock incredulity.
‘Bethany saved this place. I thought I was going to lose the pub, but she helped me write a business plan for the bank, got me the loan to turn it from grungy dive to somewhere people will actually pay over six pounds for a pint.’
I have a vague memory from a few years ago, when Cesca and I came here to escape Rachel and Dad who were staying in my flat so they could go Christmas shopping and I was ready to throttle them after less than twenty-four hours. Cesca dragged me out to the pub and the look on her face when she realized just how much of a shit-hole it was was priceless. We’d discussed, over too warm, and too cheap wine, how this area could really use a decent pub and the landlord would probably make a killing if he spruced things up a bit. I never told him that – Cesca said it would be meddling in a way people might not appreciate – but in this world, this Bethany obviously decided to stick her oar in. To pretty good effect, I hasten to add.
We take our wines and find a corner nook where we can talk without the risk of being overheard. I have no desire to be sectioned for thinking I’m a being from another universe, thank you very much.
‘So tell me about you,’ Tyler says, sitting down on the sofa next to me. It’s soft and squishy and we both almost disappear into the ancient leather cocoon.
‘Which me?’ I reply with a flash of a smile.
‘All of them,’ he says simply. ‘Start at the beginning and work forwards until you get to the Bethany you are normally in this life.’
I pause for a moment. ‘Why do you care?’
‘About what?’
‘About me. About helping me. About all the different versions of me scattered across the multiverse.’
He takes a deep breath and turns to face me. ‘Because, Ms Bethany Raven, you are the most fascinating person I have ever met.’
‘Which me?’ I whisper, feeling myself drawn into his orbit, feeling myself falling, falling, falling towards him.
‘All of them.’ His eyes are on mine.
If I leant in any closer my lips would meet his.
A centimetre. Another. Another.
But no. I pull myself back. Not now. Not here. Not like this.
And so instead I tell him about me. About Cesca. About how I miss her. About all the other versions of me, each one with their own individual quirk, their own little eccentricity. The Bethany with the decanting obsession. The Bethany with the insane shopping habit. The Bethany who didn’t drink caffeine.
He nods and laughs and smiles in all the right places.
He walks me home at the end of the evening.
I debate kissing him on the doorstep.
I could, I think.
