Page 63 of Don't You Forget About Me

I am wheezing with laughter now as I recall this episode and so is everyone else.

‘There’s your story,’ says Rav.

‘Oh no! There’s beenmuchworse,’ I say, insouciantly, confidently. And then I think: what a really sad boast to be making, Georgina.

Perhaps my problem is, I keep confusing the difference between making jokes, and being the joke.

21

That thing Clem said about working against your own nature, on purpose: it preyed on my mind. My nature has been a pretty terrible sat nav so far, so with this in mind, I went even further with Share Your Shame, and invited Mark and Esther. You don’t mess with people who need babysitters. I’d have to do it then.

‘Stay and drink afterwards and you can see my new workplace!’ I say, ‘And Mark can say hi to Devlin.’

Without having boxed myself in, I might easily have backed out.

‘Hey, Georgina. Still doing the writing thing? You’re my hero,’ Dev says, as I hoik my bag over my head, arriving for my shift. The pub seems to have more of a buzz than usual. Is it because of the event upstairs? My skin prickles with danger. I’d told myself it’d be half a dozen people.

‘Uhm, yeah,’ I mumble.

‘You’ve really stepped up here, I appreciate it. I see the theme tonight is Your Worst Day At Work. Hope it wasn’t here, hahaha.’

‘Hah. Yeah, don’t thank me when you don’t know what I’m talking about yet. Or maybe it’s about soiling myself on a rollercoaster …’

Devlin guffaws as he departs. I am grateful for how easy Devlin is, compared to his brother.

‘Haveyou soiled yourself on a rollercoaster?!’ Kitty squeals, as Kitty has never met a figurative type of speech she understood as such.

Kitty is the new hire – twenty-three, slim as a whippet, with extravagant, drawn-on eyebrows and long brown hair, and a sing-songy OH MY GAWD! vocal cadence I could swear comes from watching lots of series about ditzy American girls with inherited fortunes.

‘Oh, you don’t look scary at all, I was worried you’d be scary,’ Kitty said when she met me, leaving me puzzled and possibly offended.

‘Were you told I was scary?’

‘No but you’re, like, thirty?’

‘I don’t think that makes me Dame Maggie Smith inDowntonAbbey.’ I toyed with definitely being offended.

‘Hahaha! Lucas said you’ve worked at loads of places.’

Great. I sound like a raddled old scrubber.

‘And you’ve got a posh name, hahaha.’

‘Oh … is it?’

‘I thought you might bestern.’

I smile, completely confused. Then, after the first hour of knowing her, I gathered that Kitty operates very few security checks on what’s coming out of her mouth. She’s not unpleasant company, in fact she’s very entertaining, but I have to adjust to the scattershot workings of her mind. A chat about politics and her crush on ‘the last one, President Barry O’Barner’ leaves me reeling.

Rav, Clem and Jo arrive with Esther and Mark, who they ran into outside. Jo is smiling, post Phil, and it’s not just brave-soldier-smiling. Last time I checked in with her she said now she’s made the decision, she feels better for it. Limbo is always the killer. ‘Knowing I had to do it but not facing it,’ she messaged. ‘THAT was the shittiest part of this. At least I’m not pretending to myself any more.’

‘Good luck!’ they all chorus, having loaded up with drinks and heading upstairs to bag the best seats. Please, God, let them hog so many that other people can’t fit in too. I can tell my sister and brother-in-law are politely perplexed as to exactly why I would do this, yet trying to be encouraging about a new avenue of interest for me. It beats a life of only reciting which flavours of crisp we stock.

Minutes ’til the event starts. I have no idea how long other people’s readings will be. I need to keep my mind occupied. Luckily Kitty is exactly the tension valve release I need.

She asks if she can call her car insurer back, I say sure, and flit around cutting limes into wedges, while Kitty at the end of the bar discusses the premium on her Fiat Cinquecento.

Kitty says: ‘Oh, what? K for kilo. Oh I see …’

---