The Shoestring Club by Sarah Webb Page A

gone home and it’s a boys-only thing, you know how it is.’
    ‘’s OK,’ I reply. I want to say more but I can’t find the words. I push myself up a little but for some reason my legs don’t seem to work.
    Noel grabs me rather roughly by the arm and pulls me to my feet. ‘You go inside, Mickey, order a taxi. I’ll look after Jules for a second.’
    Mickey walks off and Noel props me up against the wall.
    ‘’s very quiet out here,’ I say, then hiccup. ‘Oops, sorry.’ I put my hand over my mouth and giggle.
    Noel strokes the side of my face. ‘It’s after one, Jules. We’re the only soldiers left standing.’ His hand moves down, onto my shoulder and brushes my breast. ‘You look hot tonight. Look what you’re doing to me.’ He presses his body against mine, rubs his crotch against the top of my leg.
    Is he out of his mind? I think groggily: he’s married for Christ’s sake. And where did all this come from? He’s never shown any interest in me before.
    ‘What are you doing?’ I say.
    ‘Oh, no, you don’t get out of it that easily. Giving me those fuck me looks all night. Skirt riding up your bare legs.’ He moves his hand down and starts dragging up my skirt.
    ‘Noel, stop!’ I try to push him away but he’s too strong. He puts an arm across my throat.
    ‘Shut up, you little slut,’ he hisses, a fleck of spit hitting my cheek. His breath smells of stale beer and cigarettes. ‘You know you want it.’
    His hand paws at my knickers and I’m terrified, my heart pounding in my chest. He presses his arm against my neck again, harder, almost choking me, and I manage a strangled scream.
    ‘I said shut up,’ he snaps. His eyes are stony, dead.
    ‘Taxi’s here.’ It’s Mickey.
    I look over and Mickey’s just standing there, staring at us.
    ‘Ah, right, sorry,’ he says, looking awkward. ‘Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.’
    Noel backs away a little and drops his arm. ‘No problem, man. We’re nearly done here. See you outside in a minute.’
    ‘Sure thing.’ And then Noel watches as Mickey turns to leave, and while he’s distracted I draw up my leg and knee him in the groin, with as much force as I can. He jumps away and presses his hands against his balls.
    ‘Jesus! You little bitch. Come here.’ He throws his other hand out to catch me but I’m too fast for him. I run across the patio, fling open the door and stagger inside. It’s completely empty, apart from Paddy, who’s putting away glasses behind the bar, his shirt as crumpled as his tired face.
    ‘You OK, Jules?’ he calls over.
    ‘Not really,’ I say, straightening down my skirt, feeling sick to the stomach and suddenly a lot more sober. I must look a state. I’m about to tell him what happened when Noel comes crashing through the door. His face is an angry red, his flabby jaw set rigid.
    Paddy looks from Noel to me, and then back at Noel.
    Noel strides towards the bar and slaps his hands down on the wood.
    ‘What did she tell you?’ he demands.
    Paddy looks confused.
    ‘Nothing. But she doesn’t look the best. Mickey’s holding a taxi for you outside. Are you taking her with you?’
    I manage to force out a ‘No!’ which sounds more like a wail than anything else.
    ‘You heard the lady,’ Noel says. ‘She can make her own way home.’
    He gives me an icy look, and I want to scream at him, tell him to get the hell away from me, but my throat is constricted and I can’t seem to get the words out. I’m stuck to the spot, terrified he’ll drag me out with him, insisting to Paddy that I’m drunk and he has to take me home in person.
    But instead he says, ‘See ya, Paddy. Make sure she gets a cab soon. She’s completely wasted,’ before walking out, making sure to keep his distance from me. And as soon as the door shuts behind him, I’m so relieved I burst into tears and collapse against a table.
    Paddy comes out from behind the bar and steadies me with his arm. ‘Ah, here, love, it’s all right.