Chapter 24

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Ye Cracke was notorious for looking the other way when rowdy teenagers came searching for a drink and someplace to gather away from over-bearing parents. The pub was immensely popular among the local art students for that reason, and had been a favorite of Wendy’s ever since her arrival in Liverpool.

Mary thought her daughter was at Diana’s. Wendy had been spending a lot of time there in the past week; things were easier when she wasn’t forced in the suffocating quiet of her home, and both girls found it fun to piss off Diana’s mother by keeping Wendy over all the time.

On the particular night in question though, Wendy was feeling a little reckless and wanted to do something about it. She went out alone. Diana wasn’t very…experienced with boys and Wendy didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so she took to this mission flying solo.

On a hot July night, Ye Cracke was packed. Wendy had no trouble attracting attention with a hitched up smile and eyes that beckoned those who had the nerve to approach. Boys found themselves drawn to her like moths to a flame. She’d gone full out that night, striving for Marilyn rather than Bardot. Except for her hair of course, that remained a dark mahogany.

She hadn’t had to pay for a single since her arrival. Wendy routinely flirted her way to get a bitter and then dismissed the buyer with a wave of her hand, turning them away so the next chap in line would have his chance. Wendy didn’t much feel like keeping anyone’s company as much as she wanted to get completely knackered. Anything to numb this aching hole in her stomach that had starting ripping it’s way through her abdomen ever since Robert’s memorial dinner. Nothing else had been much comfort, so she figured drinking was worth a shot.

“My name’s Norman.” A boy said, tripping up Wendy’s day dream and bringing her crashing down to earth. He boldly sat across from her at the booth and smiled.

“Hello Norman, mind refilling me?” She asked bluntly, pushing her empty drink at him. He wrinkled his nose at the cheap bitter and glanced up at her. “How about a whiskey?”

“You must have read my mind.” She said, winking.

The boy went off to get another drink and Wendy slumped back into her seat. She looked at the other people in the pub, laughing and banging their fists on tables, too drunk to care about being obnoxious. A sigh escaped her. God, these places were so incredibly depressing.

“Mind if I sit?”

Wendy looked up at him and shook her head. He scooted into the seat across from her and leaned forward, clutching a glass of his own in slender fingers.  “What’s your name love?”

Wendy studied his face for a moment. It would be laughably easy to tell him to fuck off and find another sucker to fill her drink when it got empty again, but she hesitated. He wasn’t a bad looking fellow. Probably eighteen or nineteen, and seemed relatively decent. Maybe some company wouldn’t hurt.

“Can I call you Norm?” she asked sweetly. He smiled and laughed a little. “Sure, whatever’s good for you.”

Wendy sipped her drink—almost pulling a face—and reached out a hand.  “Then nice to meet you Norm, I’m Wendy.”

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