The World According to Jessie

Chapter Two

Ignoring the name-calling and insult throwing (along with actual ornament throwing) coming from the top of landing I walked across the flocked papered hallway and entered the bar. It hadn't changed in the twenty-six years I had known of its existence and I'm pretty sure it was the same before I entered the world. The dark wood interior made the place feel more like a local pub than a hotel bar, and for most of the Barflies it was. They even had their own beer tankards hanging on a rail at the back of the bar which was also home to a fair collection of black and white photographs of some of the famous faces that had walked through the doors in decades long since passed. Amongst the heady mix of the smell of alcohol and out of tune old school songs, I could make out the familiar figure of the man holding court as always. Glass full of Brandy in one hand, Blackpool tea towel in the other using it as a conducting baton. You would never think that this man was well into his seventies with several achy joints and a secret smoking habit. The jeans and Cool Britannia t-shirt certainly deflected from that as did the thick mop of grey hair and sun aged skin. But the sparkling blue eyes and gorgeous smile remained in place as always. And that's what made me love him more than anyone.

'Granddad!' I called, above the noise. No response, he just kept singing away and didn't even look down at me. 'GRANDDAD!'I yelled again, this time gaining his attention. His blue eyes lit up, his arms starting rising into the air and his mouth opened in readiness for the yell that I knew was coming.

'Jessie my baby!' he screamed, jumping down off the bar and giving me the fright of my life. Granddad Mel was always fearless and just because he was in his twilight years, didn't make him slowdown in the slightest. Half Irish, half Welsh, and Blackpool born and bred with the thickest northern accent you have ever heard. That was the man that was my Grandfather. A crushing hug, a million kisses on both cheeks and a spin around later and Granddad Mel was addressing the Barflies like it was the Royal Wedding.

'Ladies and not so gentlemen hush yourselves and look this way. This wonderful young lady is my beautiful granddaughter Jessie. She's a writer for a big newspaper in London you know, so treat her with the respect that she deserves. I know what most of you lot are like.' The Barflies nodded and raised their glasses in acknowledgement and appreciation of the speech that they had just heard. Considering I made the pilgrimage to the homeland every weekend, the gathered crowd had probably heard this a million times, their reaction becoming more subdued every time.

'Ach whatever, this lot don't deserve to feast their eyes on you. Come on angel.' He said, taking my hand and throwing the tea towel over the jukebox that stood in the corner next to the now redundant cigarette machine. Granddad Mel sat me down on a bar stool and signalled to Marie to get two glasses of whatever alcohol she could reach. Turns out the alcohol of choice was Malibu. I didn't really like Malibu but for the sake of my beloved grandfather, I gritted my teeth and swallowed the offending drink with a smile.

'Oh my darling girl,' he sighed, placing his hand on mine. 'Have you lost weight? You look pale. Are you eating properly? Is that boss of yours working you too hard? Come on, tell me.' And there they were. The same opening lines to the same conversation. It was almost like a play that had been rehearsed to perfection. And as always, I gave the same answer.

'No, I haven't, yes I am, no she's not and I have just driven for almost five straight hours.' He didn't seem to believe me, but he just nodded with pursed lips before taking a sip of his drink.

'So, how is the lovely Tristan or whatever he is calling himself these days?' Granddad Mel wasn't exactly the biggest fan of my other half. In his world, if a man and women weren't married after a year of being together then their arses should be dumped and never seen again. Maybe the woman should even join a Nunnery. Twenty first century living didn't sit well with him despite his recent mid-life crisis. He secretly longed for the good old days; I knew that in my heart as well as my head.