Of Bullies and Bar Confessionals
“But it’s really my fault, isn’t it? Because I pushed her away.”
Hermione wondered whether all bartenders felt like counsellors, or whether she just had one of those auras that invited the confessions of drunken revellers. She patted the distressed girl’s shoulder, making noises of sympathy. She shot Angelina a despairing look; her boss grinned, checked her watch, and nodded.
Hermione waited for the girl’s friend to come back from the toilet and take over comforting her about the latest friendship fallout. Then, quick as a flash, she disappeared through the storeroom and into the fresh, clean air of the courtyard. She breathed in and looked up at the stars, mapping constellations as the minutes of her break trickled by.
“No, Dudley, please -”
Hermione turned at the interruption and saw the silhouette of an overweight man striding towards a vehicle. A smaller, dress-wearing figure was hurrying after, and Hermione watched in shock as the man shoved the woman away from the car and pulled the door closed. The engine roared.
“No! Please - don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
The car pulled away at a frightening speed and Hermione worried for a moment that the woman had been run down. She vaulted the fence and found her sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asked quietly.
“He’s gone,” she hiccuped. She only looked Hermione’s own age - late teens at most.
“What’s your name?”
“Jenny.”
“Well, Jenny, it didn’t look like he was treating you very well. Come on, let’s get you inside,” Hermione said, holding her hands out and pulling Jenny to her feet. “You look done in. You need a good meal and a tot of something strong. I’ll sort you a lift home.”
Jenny smiled tearfully, but then - “I can’t believe he left,” she cried suddenly, and began to sob. Hermione rolled her eyes while the girl’s face was hidden in her hands, and employed, once again, generic sympathetic noises. She coaxed Jenny inside and deposited her on an empty bar stool with a rum and coke, shooting a filthy look at Angelina, who was doubled up with silent laughter.
Four hours later, Hermione was ready to go home. Jenny was still at the bar, having picked her way slowly through a pasta dish and happily polished off two more rums.
“Where are you going to stay?” Hermione asked. “I can drop you at a friend’s, or your parent’s, if you like.”
Jenny looked at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “No,” she said. “I’ll just go home.”
“Do you live on your own?”
Another head had obviously sprouted. “Well, no,” Jenny said as if it were obvious. “I live with Dudley.”
“But… didn’t he just break up with you?”
“No,” Jenny replied. “He just wouldn’t take me home, because I embarrassed him at work earlier.”
Hermione gritted her teeth, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer to the question she nonetheless asked. “How?”
“Turned up unannounced.”
“Jenny, that’s not embarrassing, and it’s not a reason to abandon you in a car park in the dark.”
She shrugged. “It’s the way he is, and I shouldn’t have done what I did. It’ll be okay in the morning, when he’s less angry.”
“Is he ever… not angry at all?”
“Not very often.”