Purple Mountain - Part 3

 

The village was looking just as good as it could in the bright sunshine of late morning. Dill placed her arm in Arty’s and indulged in the fullest sense of relaxation which comes only from being in a new place where nobody knows you. It was different for Arty of course, he knew everyone and he hoped to bump into as many people as possible so that they could see that he was a fully functioning adult with a girlfriend and the beginnings of a career, far away from their little village.

 

‘I didn’t imagine it to be like this,’ said Dill.

 

‘Really, what did you imagine?’

 

‘I don’t know…just something different, more quaint I suppose. It is sort of quaint but there’s a hollowness to it that I wasn’t prepared for. Maybe I’m just thinking of those proper tourist day out places, you know, like Garlerford.’

 

‘Oh come on, Garlerford is toy town,’ he snapped.

 

Dill, glanced at the side of his head, and for a second he was a stranger to her. ‘It’s these strange buildings, I suppose,’ she said, making her voice more gentle, ‘like this one,’ she pointed towards what was once a shop with a large front window now with blinds fully pulled down.

 

‘Many of these places were shops and cafes once upon a time. That was when we had more visitors, a tourist industry of sorts, not that it was ever huge but people came for the mountain. Some of these buildings are now homes but they still look a bit like shops. I guess that’s why they look strange to you.’

 

‘So where is this bar you mentioned? We could go there for lunch.’

 

‘We’ve only just had breakfast! I should warn you, the food’s not that nice there. Don’t tell anyone I said that though,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder. ‘It’s just up here on the right, Roses.’

 

Roses looked characterful and attractive from outside. It was painted a pretty shade of green with long windows at the front and some pink roses painted around the lettering on the main sign. Outside stood a blackboard stood straddling a drain, with a message scrawled on it, 

 

If you’re here to use our loo

Please don’t just pass by

There’s always something new to try

Please don’t just do your business

Without supporting our business

 

Inside it resembled a village hall, hard chairs and tables laid out in rows, a few plastic plants gathering dust, sticky menus. ‘I don’t want anything to eat,’ whispered Dill as they walked up to the bar.

 

‘Arty,’ said the bar tender without looking at him, in fact it seemed odd to Dill that he hadn't once looked at Arty, even as they’d approached. He flicked his white hair, tinged yellow, away from his face.

 

‘Hello Stammer,’

 

‘Who is this, your plus one?’

 

Arty puffed all the air out of lungs in a sort of laugh slash tension release. ‘Yes, this is my girlfriend, Dill.’

 

Stammer leaned forwards and held out his hand. She shook it while he gripped on for a few seconds, his rough skin startling her a little. He had the upper body of someone with a lifetime of sequestered strength and resilience, the sort which only comes from decades of manual work. ‘Pleased to meet you, Dill,’ he winked, ‘don’t spend too long here will you.’

 

‘What, in here?’ she said, looking around, confused.

 

‘No, in this town. Some people say it’s on the up, I say it’s still going down. It hasn’t hit rock bottom yet and you don’t want to be here when it does.’

 

‘Just two coffees please,’ said Arty quickly.

 

They sat by the window. Dill felt uncomfortable with all the empty space around her. There was another couple in the corner having food and talking non-stop with their mouths full. She took a sip of coffee, ‘Ooh that’s nice coffee,’ she said.

 

 

‘You sound surprised,’

 

‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘it’s just a really good flavour. I wonder where they get it.’

 

Arty was tempted to make a comment about how they are able to get deliveries from anywhere just like places in the city but he decided against it. Instead he stared into his girlfriend’s eyes which looked different in the sunlight streaming through the window. There was a red tinge in the brown of her irises, a burgundy colour, warm and inviting.

 

‘Why is he called Stammer,’ she whispered but immediately Stammer looked up at her from the bar area, their eyes met for a split second, then she looked away.

 

‘He had one, a bad one, for years. It only went when he lost his finger.’

 

Dill laughed, ‘What?’ she lowered her voice, ‘how did he lose his finger?’

 

‘In the logging depot. Shshshsh let’s talk about something else. So what do you want to do after this?’

 

‘I don’t know, this is your territory Arty, you show me the good stuff. Things I can’t experience at home. I’ve already had the disappearing mountain sickness, I don’t think I want a repeat of that.’

 

‘You wanted to go there.’

 

‘I didn’t realise it was going to make me ill!’

 

‘Neither did I.’

 

Dill reached out and squeezed Art’s hands. ‘The views here are stunning, even from this window. I want to drink it in while I’m here. Not that I’m not ever coming back of course! But I want to absorb the stillness and the open spaces. It’s such a tonic when you’re in the city twenty four seven.’

 

They finished up their coffee and when Stammer came over with a tray to collect the empty cups, Dill found herself peering at his hands, searching for the gap where his finger was. He caught her doing it and frowned slightly, quickening his action and whisking the cups away. ‘See you both again soon,’ he shouted as he headed back towards the bar.

 

Arty responded and opened the door for her. ‘Let’s walk to the end of the street,’ she said, ‘do the main drag from one end to the other.’

 

‘Okay, that won’t take long,’ Arty laughed, ‘of course we’re seeing my grandparents in an hour or so.’

 

‘I can’t wait to meet them. I bet they’ve got some stories.’

 

Arty shook his head. ‘Too many,’ he said, ‘if you let them, they’ll talk until you’re just a dry husk on the floor.’

 

‘As long as they don’t talk as much as my sister, I’ll be fine. Hey, you didn’t tell me you had an ice cream shop!’ 

 

A woman in a blue apron was just propping open the door, causing the bell above it to tinkle. She placed a sign out on the pavement which said,

 

This week’s specials: Toffee and Date, Ginger and Orange, Raspberry and Dark Chocolate, Cardamom Sorbet.

 

‘Wow, those flavours sound amazing,’ said Dill. Without hesitation she stepped inside and stared at the tubs of ice cream behind the glass screen at the counter. ‘Is it too early for ice cream?’ she said with a laugh.

 

Arty gingerly followed her in and stood behind her. ‘Have whatever you want,’ he said.

 

The woman in the blue apron gave him a hard stare. ‘Hello Arty,’ she said.

 

‘Hi,’ he answered in a clinical way.

 

‘I’m intrigued by the cardamom sorbet,’

 

‘You can have two flavours in one tub. It’s the same price as having one tub.’

 

‘Oooh,’ she rubbed her hands together and glanced at Arty. He was looking past the woman in the apron, through an open door towards the back of the shop. ‘What should I have?’ she said.’

 

‘I don’t know,’ he said with an impatient tone, ‘have something you’ve never tried before.’

 

‘I’ll have cardamom sorbet and the raspberry and dark chocolate please.’

 

Arty shook his head in a performative way as if to show the absurdity of her choice, but to who? The woman in the apron seemed cold towards him, even though they knew each other. As she handed Dill the cup and he made payment, he suddenly asked her. ‘Where’s Hazel?’

 

The question sounded loaded, it filled up the space in the small shop, so much so that Dill felt she must get out but at the same time, she wanted to hear the answer to the question. 

 

‘She’s been off sick since February.’

 

There was a pause as the payment went through. ‘Oh…is she alright?’

 

The woman shook her head. ‘Not really. Her dad had some transplants, he’s in hospital and she’s been very stressed, very anxious. I’ve been running this place on my own.’

 

There was a few seconds of silence before they both thanked the woman and left the shop.

 

‘She was a bit abrupt,’ said Dill.

 

Arty leant over and looked at the contents of her cup, green, pink and brown. ‘What’s that, intrusive thoughts in a carton?’

 

‘