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Chapter 3- The Dark
I got home, sat in my armchair and read. Hilda was right, there wasn't much happening in Woodston, it seemed to be the typical English village I had imagined after all. But the surrounding area was made out to be brutal by the newspapers I had bought. The attack in Northwich was bloody and violent, something that seemed it would happen more in Manchester or Liverpool compared to Cheshire; Cheshire was supposed to be quaint and pretty, not scary and full of crime, that's why my parents sent me there in the first place. The newspaper said it was the third of it's kind since April, and It was now early July, there was a killer, or even a group of killers stalking people in the area. I decided to to tell my mother this because she would order my back to Baltimore within day after I told her and I didn't want that, Woodston seemed nice enough, and the people who lived here years before me didn't seem to bothered, so I didn't let it bother me too much.

I flicked though the thick paper pages to see pictures of school fĂȘtes and charity events which had passed in the week before I moved. Everyone looked so happy; happy that they are part of such a close community, happy because it wasn't them who got killed my whoever was out there. The police had no information on who had attacks the innocent people who were now six feet underground, so for all I knew, it was one of the people smiling up at me from the page. It could have been someone based in Woodston, which I doubted but it was a possibility. To stop myself freaking myself out, I decided to get ready for work. I put some music on, slipped on the 'nice' clothes I picked out and put my black patent smart heels on. By the time I had done my hair and make up I ha half an hour before my shift, enough time to stroll to work and get to know the locals in the pub before I started.

I made sure my hone was fully charged and I had my pepper spray in my bag before stepping out of the porch after what I had read in the newspapers before, I couldn't have been too safe, even if the pub was only a five minute walk away. I know I'd be safe one I was in those old oak doors again because Barry hung a shotgun very proudly above the bar, loaded or not, I still felt safe knowing I had protection near by. It was still light, but living near woods made me feel constantly at risk from predators hiding behind trees and in the shrubbery. I threw my bag over my shoulder, held it tight and set off. The streets seemed busier than they did before, but now most people were home from work and school and as it was light, lots of people walked to get where they needed to go, it was a common fact that I had seen on my web research before I moved, everywhere in Woodston takes ten minutes or less to get to, no matter where you are based; luckily I was based right in the centre, so everywhere was close to me, there wasn't really any need for my car unless I wanted to venture out to the bigger towns which I decided would save me a lot of cash in the long run.

---------------------


When I got to the pub, I was greeted with a huge smile from Barry.

"Oi, listen up!!" He shouted in his huge voice, for a burly man I wasn't surprised at his decibel level. "This here is Nancy, if I see any of you disrespecting her you're out and you have to go drinking in Northwich and after those attacks I'm sure none of you want that, am I understood?" He sounded as if he was a teacher telling off a class of misbehaving students, especially as his rant was followed by a low hum of agreeing voices. It was packed, so much busier than it was before. Friday nights must have been the Bucket Of Blood's main night for entertaining the locals, most of which were much younger than I expected, most well within their twenties. The old jukebox which stood in the dark corner played current music which was a huge contrast to quiet whisper of voices which had filled the room before.

"So is the what you English folk class as 'something nice'?" I asked Barry, unsure on whether I had made the correct clothing choice.

"Skirts a little long compared to what most of my previous assistants had worn but I ask you only wear what you're comfortable with, some of the guys in here can get a little pervy when they've had a few, scared the last one off, but you're tough, I can tell." He showed me how everything worked and how to get the kitchen staff to do what I wanted before leaving me to cope with my first shift alone. "If you need me, my number's in the notebook behind the bar, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, same time tomorrow?"

"No, earlier on a Saturday, around four, if that's okay with you?"

"That's fine, I don't exactly have any plans unless Hilda asks me to join her knitting club." He chuckled at my comment and obviously knew Hilda well.

"Ahh yes, Hilda's a good one though, if you ever have any problems and you can't get hold of me go to her."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." And with that, he was gone, leaving me the keys for the lock up later on.

I had quite a lot of work within my first half hour, quite a few groups came in asking for the same rounds over and over. Then one caught my eye. He was around six foot three, had dark hair and piercing green eyes and a very muscular build. Then I realised he was talking, using his velvety voice that melted like caramel in my ears. He had an accent, but it wasn't a posh English accent, more of an Irish ring than anything.

"Excuse me love, did you get that? Sorry, was I talking too fast again? I do that quite a lot, I'll slow it down. Two large white wines please."

"Sorry, I was in my own world, any preferences on brand?" Barry didn't keep much wine in the pub but it was only polite to ask.

"Whatever's open will be fine thanks." I took out two of the wine glasses in the cupboard labelled 'large wine' from under the bar, poured in the wine which had been chilling in the back and pushed the glasses towards him.

"That will be four pounds seventy please." Apparently that was rather reasonable for a small pub, which didn't really make any difference to me, as long as it was going towards my first pay cheque. He handed over the money along with a small folded piece of paper which he told me to open when he had gone. I followed his instructions and waiting until he had sat down and tilted his head towards me whilst talking to a female friend, who I prayed wasn't his girlfriend.

07850239427 there are things people won't say around here, phone me when you get out of work, I'll wait up,  you need to be warned.
Nice accent by the way, you're obviously not from round here.
Patrick Collins


That's when I started to love my job, the perks of meeting new people had been discovered and Patrick had made my heart flutter, who could ask for anything more?

When my shift finished at one in the morning, I locked up and got a ride home from one of the kitchen staff because of how dark it was and typed Patrick's number nervously into my mobile.

© Copyright 2012 Em Ware (ranter at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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