Golden Luckenbooth

Thirteen

Life moves on. Pets continue to need spaying and neutering. Cows still need to be checked for pregnancy or mastitis or whatever other disease is spreading through the herd. I spend the next week diving into my work, organising a blood drive for animals. People bring in their pets at their convenience, and I find a vein to withdraw blood to donate to veterinary hospitals in the area. It fills my time right now when I badly need the distraction.

Friday night, wiped out but desperately needing companionship, I pull on a pair of leggings and a jumper with my knee-high boots. I haphazardly tame my hair into a claw clip, hoping I am presentable enough for my friends and not caring what anyone else thinks. It's not like some popstar is going to magically appear at the pub and want to become my fuck buddy. That's a once in a lifetime event. Still, I make a minimal effort with my appearance simply because I don't want to be that woman who wallows because she's been left behind by the most handsome man with the best killer dimple in all of the United Kingdom.

As I walk in the door, Blair and my other friends cheer and call my name. I feel like a minor celebrity. Which naturally makes me think of that other celebrity. The one I've been unsuccessfully shoving to the back of my brain.

Making my way to the bar, I smile at Brodie, the young and not-very-handsome-but-super-sweet bartender.

"What'll it be, Anna? It's been ages since you've been in, and although I was able to dredge your name and face from the depths of my memory, I'm afraid your drink preference is long gone."

Rolling my eyes at him, I laugh, "You daft bugger, Brodie. It's not been that long. I think I'll have one of those non-alcoholic beers please."

With a nod, he follows my directions, returning with a bottle filled with a dark lager. "Good thing I was able to dust off a case in the back just for you."

"Mhm," I mutter, picking up the bottle. "Slàinte Mhath!"

Joining the table with my pals, I hesitate when they all stop talking and twist to me.

"Glad you're back, Anna!"

"Where the feck have you been?"

"Slàinte Mhath!"

"Next one's on me!"

"Missed you." The last one is Blair, and I know how she feels as I've missed her too. A lot.

Then they all fall silent, waiting for me to speak. My throat closes, and I've no idea what to say to them. Only Blair knows about Harry, and he's not a topic I want to discuss. Taking a sip of fake courage, I shrug. "Been busy. That's all."

My bestie takes pity on me. "I saw that you were doing a blood drive. How did it go?"

"So good," I announce. "In fact, if any of you bitches need a transfusion before heading home to your husbands, I can accommodate you." When they laugh, I'm relieved, and the topic switches away from me. Thankfully.

An hour or so later, I catch Blair's eye and gesture towards another table. She nods before rising and heading in the direction of the bar, and I follow, knowing our friends will accept our exit from the group without rancour. After all, our group is made up of three pairs of besties who occasionally hang out together as a larger group. But not always.

"I'll take another, and put hers –" she tilts her head towards me, "-- on my tab."

Brodie readily agrees, pulling a fresh pint for Blair before popping the top on another bottle of my non-alcoholic lager. My best friend's eyes dart to me, and I shrug, not wanting to get into it tonight.

But that ship has sailed.

As soon as we're seated at a quieter booth away from the others, Blair leans forward and loudly whispers, "Non-alc? Why? It's Friday night."