An Admiral Encounter

There I was, just standing there when what I wanted to do was forbidden. I was brought up with morals thrust upon me, religion was shoved down my throat not as a spiritual guide but rather a list of 'don'ts' that were drilled into from an early age. My parents were God fearing and that fear controlled them, it permeated their daily lives and as a consequence, me and my sister were brought up with a hundred and ten commandments.

So here I was, just standing outside a coffee shop, pumped full of caffeine (coffee was a sin in my upbringing) and the nervous energy in me made my heart beat, my blood pump, my brain snap and urges soar.

I felt alive for the first time in my life and I felt I could do anything I wanted with consequence from neither my parents nor my God.

I took a deep breath and walked to the shopping centre, giggling like a child as the automatic doors opened before me, inviting me in like the Prodigal Son. The feeling was euphoric.

I wandered around for a while, looking for my forbidden treasure, wondering what it could be. I had no idea where I would go that day, I had no plans to do anything specific, but I wanted to try all the things that I was not allowed to do.

I had the freedom and I had the means now.

This was the happiest day of my life!

Exiting the shopping centre at the farther end, I found it. A pub. It was called The Admiral and I admired it. I stood outside for a moment, mesmerised by the anticipation of what I could do in there.

I could anything today.

Inside, the room was large and dark. There were a few people inside, mostly sat at tables, so I made my way boldly to the counter and stood looking at the bar taps and their advertisements. A giant chalkboard behind the counter advised me of specials and cocktails and names of drinks that were alien to me. They sounded wonderful.

A young girl, red haired and freckled, pony-tailed and made up, materialised before me behind the counter and she smiled sweetly at me.

I smiled sweetly back at her and realised that I did not know what I wanted.

"Do you want me to come back while you make up your mind?" she asked sweetly.

"Erm ..." I decided to leave it to chance and pointed at one of the taps over the counter. As an afterthought, I smiled at her.

"Pint?" Her sweet smile sweetened my senses and I nodded.

I watched mesmerised as she held a large glass under the tap and pull the lever, the golden liquid slowly pouring out and filling the glass. Placing the now full drink on the counter before me, smiling sweetly, she said "That'll be three pound fifty, please."

I gave her a five-pound note and quickly told her she could keep the change. That was a phrase I'd heard on the television (another sin we were rarely allowed access to growing up) and was pleased that I had found a way to say it myself.

"You don't usually come to pubs, do you?"

She may be young but she wasn't stupid.

"No, not really. I've been, um, sheltered, I guess is the best word."

She reached over and put a hand on mine, and gave me her sweet smile again.

"Well, don't overdo it, and give me a shout if you need anything else."

"Thank you," I said, as she wandered off to serve a young man in a tracksuit.

I looked at the glass before me and picked it up slowly, taking a sip. It tasted earthy, yet fresh, fizzy with a little kick to it. I instantly liked it and took a mouthful, gulping it down. Then another, and another until there was nothing left. I smiled and felt my stomach grow heavier and my head grow lighter.

The young girl with the ref hair and freckles smiled sweetly at me as she saw my empty glass and came up to me. She was such a nice person; I had the impression that she had as sweet a personality as her smile.

"You want another?" she asked.

I contemplated and decided I wanted to try something else.

"Erm ... I've heard of Guiness, what's that like?"

"Well, that's an acquired taste, it's a bit marmite; you'll either love it or hate it." That sweet smile again. Maybe it was the drink that made me feel this way, but I was beginning to like her.

"I'll try it," I said with an air of finality and a smile that I hoped was as sweet as hers.

"Okay, maybe I'll give you a half this time, just in case you don't like it." She gave me a wink and a smile, and I winked and smiled back at her.

She was an angel! She knew I wouldn't like it and she was right. As she saw my expression from the first sip, she giggled (sweetly) and took the drink away and replaced it with something called 'Bishop's Finger', which was much smoother and more palatable than the black viscous she had presented to me before.

I smiled at her, sweetly, and extended my thumb to her.

She giggled as she went off to serve another customer.

As the day wore on, I sampled many other beverages, each one as distinctive as the last and each one as intoxicating as the previous one. I was having a lovely day, experiencing something that I had only ever dreamt of when I first heard about alcohol from a school friend. Now he was character; a story for another day, I fear.

My head was beginning to feel very light by the time I had consumed more ale, and I could feel my cheeks warming (I think I could actually feel them turn red). It was the most confusing feeling I had ever felt in my whole life; both energised with clarity of thought and an overwhelming need to slump over the counter and fall asleep. I blinked a few times and the sweet girl came over, her face furrowed with worry.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I looked up at her, trying to focus on her sweet face, and tried to smile.

"I'm fine," I tried to say, but my tongue could not seem to wrap itself around the words properly. I think my smile also fell short of the definition of what a smile should be.

The sweet girl giggled.

"I think you've had enough; I'll get you some water. That'll help you."

And off she went, returning a short time later with a glass of iced water. I gulped it down and immediately felt better.

"Thank you," I said.

"Stay there and try not to fall over."

I thought about that and realised I was leaning on the counter. I gently pushed myself back and immediately regretted it; the room began to spin and I grabbed hold of the edge of the counter. The sweet girl came rushing up to me from around the bar.

"Hold on, let's get you to a table and sit you down."

She put a sweet arm around my waist and helped me to a table in the corner, making sure I sat sown properly. She sat with me for a while.

"Don't you need to be serving customers?" I asked.

"It's okay, Rob is on shift and he can manage."

She leaned back a little and regarded me.

I stared back at her and smiled. She giggled (sweetly) and I waved my fingers at her, which made her laugh.

"You're a weird one, you know that?" She said it with humour and I giggled.

"You're not the first to say that," I stammered.

"What's your name?"

"Philip. Philip Bishop. Like the ale. And with all my fingers." I waved them again. "Nice to meet you." I extended my hand. Giggling, she took it and we shook hands.

"Claire. Claire Foster. Like the beer."

She leaned back and crossed her arms over her belly, regarding me like a hawk spying its prey. I felt a rush of excitement, inexplicably, so I leaned back also and crossed my arms.

"So, tell me, Philip Bishop, how does a tea-total young man like you end up in a pub for the whole afternoon?"

Young man? I smiled at this.

"I was brought up in a very, very strict household. My parents were God fearing and disciplinarians, me and my sister grew up blinded to the pleasures of the world. We were denied the beauties of travel, meeting new people, of experiencing things that would normally shape a child's personality. My sister, Veronica, I called her Ronnie, which she hated. Ronnie ..." The memory of my sister pained me and I closed my eyes for a moment. Her face flashed into my mind's eye, her dark hair, her dark eyes, her pixie-like nose, her smile.

"What happened to your sister?"

I sighed.

"She decided, one day, that she'd had enough. She started sneaking out at night, got in with some bad company, taking up a lot of bad habits. She ended up overdosing in a squalid bedsit with a group of people. She was found naked and covered in bruises and needle holes."

It's funny, but recounting this to a complete stranger didn't feel uncomfortable; it felt exhilarating, a release. The emotions, wrapped up and cocooned for so long, came out of hiding and flew into the air, away from me, and I was left feeling lighter.

Claire, bless her sweet self, looked at me with honest concern; I wanted to laugh at her or hug her. Preposterous. But the feeling was there.

"My parents were mortified. And that is when I made a life changing realisation. It wasn't so much that I had been blind to the truth. It was just that I had seen the truth differently. It was then that I knew that my parents were not upset with the death of their daughter, but that their standing in the community was ruined. So, I told them exactly what I thought, I didn't give them a chance to respond. I told them straight and then I walked out." I gave a short laugh at this. "I am twenty-four years old and that was the first time I had actually stood up to them. Anyway, I walked around for a bit and then I came across The Admiral and I went in and I met you."

She smiled sweetly at this, her face lighting up.

"So, you left home? Where will you stay?" I sensed her genuine worry about me and I felt happy. For the first time in my life, someone was taking notice of me. I smiled.

"The Premier Inn round the corner. I booked in earlier."

She nodded, the shadow of relief on her face. Then she smiled (sweetly).

"So, look, I finish work in half an hour. Have you eaten anything today? Do you want to go for something to eat later?"

I smiled at her. It wasn't a sweet smile, but it was a big smile, from my heart.

"I would love that."