Bank Holiday
By Ewan
- 335 reads
'Come on, we'll miss the train.'
'Just let us put the brolly up! It's pissing down.'
'Isn't. A few spots, come on!'
Gail lit a cigarette, passed it to Donna. Donna's grip on the umbrella slipped.
'Oww! Watch it, nearly had my eye out, you daft bitch.'
'Got the tickets, Gail?'
'Like I'd forget those.' She waggled the strap of her DKNY knock-off from the market.
'You forgot the tickets when we went to see One D…'
'Din't mattah! We still got in.'
Donna shuddered. 'Yeah well, that creepy tout can't complain.'
Gail shrugged, 'it was better than paying him 200 quid.'
'S'pose. He wasn't exactly buff, though.'
'He could have been Zain's dad, if you shut your eyes a bit.'
Donna snorted. 'He couldn't have been Zain's grandad.'
They turned the corner onto Station Road. Leagrave Station looked quiet. It was still only 9. Besides, no-one else was going to work today. Their train was at 10 past. Just time to buy a couple of cans from the newsagent's on platform 4. The Brighton train was leaving from platform 3, but that was hardly a problem at Leagrove. It was a shitty little station, exactly what Leagrove deserved as Donna's mum always said, ever since the girls had started their away-days.
Gail took the cans from the fridge. Stella four for the price of three, or one for the price of four at Aldi, but that wasn't the point. Gail put her hair behind one ear and faffed in her purse. Donna lifted Now and Closer and shoved them inside her coat. Gail held onto the shop-keeper's hand as she handed him the coins. Maybe he blushed. She heard Donna snigger behind her. The shopkeeper snatched his hand away and stared at it.
'Did you see that?' Gail said. They were running, the train was at the platform already.
'What?'
'Does he think the white will come off on him?'
'Who cares?'
The train was quite full. Not the usual three-carriage rattle trap.
'Not much chance,' Donna said.
Some families. Not many men travelling alone. Maybe there'd be a stag party further up the train.
There wasn't. They finally sat down in a carriage just behind the engine.
'Maybe someone will get on at Luton,' Donna pulled the ring on a can of Stella.
'Nah, Brighton will do. Someone always turns up?'
They stared out of the window for a while. Even the trees looked grey. The conductor arrived. Gail raised her eyebrows and sighed. They got their tickets punched.
'Day trip? Shame about the weather,' she said. She looked a bit like Donna's Auntie Jill who'd moved to the Costa del Sol with a toy boy after Uncle Bob disappeared.
Donna grunted. Gail smiled, 'Bank 'Oliday, innit. Always rains.'
'Might be nice on the coast, eh?' She handed their tickets back.
'That uniform does no-one any favours, duzzit?' Gail laughed when she saw the woman's back stiffen.
They stepped onto the platform. A watery sun tried to pierce the cloud. The wind blew their coats but they didn't do them up. No point in that. Show what you've got, whatever the weather. Most people were heads down, shoulders hunched, even on West Street. Donna and Gail were carried along; a human wave rolling to the shore, Gail laughed and tried to explain it to Donna.
'Like the waves are comin' from both d'rections, innit.'
'You talk some shit, Gail.'
'Yeah, totes. Wanna fag?' Gail lit a Lambert and Butler, took a draw and handed it over.
Donna blew her smoke skyward, 'Not gonna rain is it?'
She threw the umbrella into a litter bin.
'We can always nick another one from a pub.'
Along the sea-front the press of humanity became a swirl. Gail stopped a middle-aged man to ask directions. Donna had his wallet easily enough. They carried on along Marine Drive, looking for a pub. There weren’t that many. Plenty of Hotels and Guest Houses. They passed the Bandstand, then the council offices.
‘Let’s hit the beach,’ Donna was bending down to take of her heels.
‘Yeah, OK.’ Gail put her shoes in her handbag, Donna held out hers and Gail stuffed them in too. A big bag was always a good idea.
‘This is ‘Ove, then?’
Gail looked along the beach.
‘Should ‘ave gone to Kings Cross again.’
Donna pointed at the Café, ‘Let’s get something to eat.’
Gail rolled her eyes, but followed Donna into the Lawns.
The elbow in the ribs hurt, but Donna hadn’t noticed the man sitting on his own at the window. 50? Maybe a bit older. Cup and saucer with a teapot beside it, lose five points. Beautiful overcoat, Camelhair. Add ten points. Not too handsome. Good. Clean nails but no evidence of a manicure, thank goodness. Well, they were very close to Brighton.
‘Sit with you?’ Gail first. Always Gail.
You could tell how it would go from how surprised they were. This one spilled his tea. Donna sat first, to his left. Gail sat opposite the man.
‘You don’t mind? We’re just down for the day and...’
‘We don’t like to sit on our own. Not in a strange town.’ Donna finished it off.
The man’s eyes darted left and right, got snagged on Gail’s cleavage on the way past.
‘I… ah… no, of course. Be my guest.’ He waved his arm at the chairs they were already sitting in.
He cleared his throat, ‘Coke, Fanta?… Coffee?’
‘Yeah,’ Donna said. ‘Skinny Latte for me, thanks.’
Gail gave Donna a kick under the table. Barefoot or no, it hurt her shin.
‘Oh, I’d like an milkshake, Mister.’
The man’s tongue crept out of the side of his mouth, ‘Oh yes, splendid. Call me Frank.’
He waved at the waitress who was smoking out on the decking.
‘I’m Chardonnay and this is Gaeleesha.’
‘What lovely names… ah, more tea, please and a … a skinny latte and a milkshake.’
‘Kind?’ The waitress’s pencil paused over the pad.
‘Wha-’
‘Kindamilkshake? Bananastrawberrychocolate?’
Gail stared at the waitress, ‘Chocolate, I like chocolate.’
The waitress walked all of two paces to the counter, tore the page from the pad and slammed it down hard.
‘Would you like something to eat?’
‘No, not just now. Mummy gave us a big breakfast this morning.’
The first time proper, in London, in a pub, Fanta had come down Donna’s nose when Gail had said that.
The man let out a breath he had been holding.
The drinks came. Gail tapped Donna’s knee under the table. Donna slid her chair away from the table slightly. Gail slid her own closer. Her bare foot would be on the man’s shoe. He wore brogues. Maybe not hand-made, but good quality. His eyes bulged, they were Estonian blue, but looked unattractive under his raised eyebrows. Gail laid it on very thick with the milkshake, sucking the last dregs out with hollowed out cheeks. Frank was looking a little sweaty.
‘What do you do, Frank?’
Donna wiped froth of the end of her nose. No need for the tongue. Frank was staring at Gail, or at least part of her.
‘I-I-I’m an accountant.’
‘Wow, is it exciting?’ Gail heaved her bosom. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do...’
Donna watched the man’s adam’s apple move up and down.
Later, in the Grand. Donna took the photos. Using Frank’s phone. She put them all on Instagram. Gail’s face wasn’t on any of them. He’d had a lot of cash on him. He’d loved being tied up. First he was gagging for it, then he was gagged for it. Haha. Gail thought about mentioning it to Donna, but… explaining a joke always killed it. They closed the door quietly.
Donna grabbed Gail’s hand as they walked down the corridor to the lift, then pointed at her watch.
‘6 o’clock. Too late to buy anything for your birthday.’ Donna said.
‘Doesn’t matter, I’ve had a great time.’
‘It does though, Gail-babes. You’re not fifteen every day.’
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