When Ife walked into the pub, she knew she was where she ought to be, far away from Uni on the other side of the country. Far away from her worries and the pressures from her mother and her incessant phone calls and their arguments. She’d had enough and wanted to fall off the face of the earth, this pub that feels like it is tethering the edge of the world will do. Overhead I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You plays softly from the speakers. She’d driven ten hours including hoped on a ferry, to calm her nerves because they are shot to hell. The town signpost said she was in St Margaret’s Hope and judging by its wild terrain, it was perfect.
CRASH! the glass Hendrix was cleaning slipped from his hands the second he laid eyes on the girl who walked into the church. For the briefest of moments, he stood stuck on the spot, enthralled by her. He faltered; sure, his senses had abandoned him. She was beautiful; tall, toned long legs that go one forever in her shorts, morphing into curvy hips, her braids are piled in a topknot on her head, a few plaits hanging loose. Beautiful brown skin, almond shaped eyes, sharp cut cheekbones, full pouty lips, and a haughty demeanour that erred a hair short of being aloof. She is new around here; everybody knows everybody in the village so she is probably a Londoner passing through in search of the whisky tasting he never offered, for that they can go to Isla where the fancy distilleries trounced about town every ten feet. The Church was in a class of its own. But for her, he would give away his entire trade secrets.
‘Stop leering.’ A hand connected with the back of his head snapping him to.
‘Ma! Ouch!’
‘You’re staring like a goat.’ Maya saw her son’s reaction to the girl who just walked into the Church, knew what was running through that head of his. ‘Clean that up.’
Hendrix rolled his eyes but did as his mother said grumbling something that sounded vaguely like “I was only looking.”
‘What’ll be dear?’ Maya plastered that sweet smile on her face at the girl who’d taken a seat on one of the bar stools at the far end.
‘Good afternoon, may I have whatever top shelf whisky you serve please. Two fingers no ice.’
‘Everything is top shelf dear.’
‘Then I will have whatever you deem best.’
‘Rough day? It’s only lunch time.’
‘And it feels like midnight.’
Maya poured a generous helping of the best distilled whisky from the distillery, Hendrix had gone to town on this batch, and it was perfection. She placed the glass in front of the customer, and she took a sip.
‘Oooh that is beautiful.’
‘I should hope so it’s our finest distilled batch.’ Hendrix said from behind his mother having cleaned up the broken glass.
‘You distil that here?’
‘I do. I own the distillery. This is my mother.’
She held her hand to Maya, ‘it’s lovely to meet you.’
‘You are too. I’m Maya.’
‘Ife.’
‘Love. I love that.’
Ife’s eyes widened, surprised that Maya knew the meaning of her name. Her parents named her Ife, not Ifeoluwa as one would expect but simply, Ife which translates to love.’
‘A girl I went to school with was named Ifeoluwa.’
‘Ah. My parents forewent the God bit and just stuck with love.’ Ife shrugged with a little smile.
‘It is a beautiful name.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Is it okay if I work in the corner? I am going to order some food to go with this before I have to drive back to Uni.’
‘Drive back where?’
‘St Andrews.’
‘You drove all the way?’ Maya asked aghast.
‘And got the ferry too. I don’t mind the drive, it clears my head.’
‘That’s a drive!’
‘It was beautiful terrain driving down. I took a turn and ended up here and it looked like a place I was meant to be.’
‘Meant to be huh?’ Hendrix said, that smile tethering on the corners of his lips.
‘I’ll fix you a plate darling. Any dietary requirements I should be aware of?’
‘None at all. Thank you.’ Ife didn’t miss that no menu had been provided to her, but she trusted the woman who had the magnificent pour.
‘Do you want to work somewhere quieter?’ Hendrix asked, his tongue suddenly tied, this might be the first time he’d need his mummy around a woman.
Ife surveyed the pub briefly and shook her head, ‘it’s fine out there. I’ll set myself up in the corner if that’s okay.’
‘No problem at all.’
She flashed a smile, took her glass of whisky in one hand, handbag in another and settled herself in the corner of the pub looking out the window at the stunning scenery outside, a wild restless sea, blue sky and high sun. For the first time in weeks, she is able to let her hair down, figuratively and actually speaking, releasing the braids from the bun that held them off her face. She fired up her laptop and got to work on her latest essay. At peace.
‘What are you working on?’ Maya asked placing a place of a beef sandwich and a side salad in front of her.
‘I’m looking at the difference in cubism and the postmodern era.’
‘Picasso.’
‘He’s one of them I’m trying to decipher which had the most impact and areas of critic that does not involve the artist’s life.’
‘Tall order.’
‘I never set myself up for an easy assignment.’ Ife laughed taking a bite of her thick sandwich. She groaned. ‘This is so good. It might be the best steak sandwich I have ever had.’
‘Hendrix made the steak, he’s a dab hand in the kitchen same as his Da was.’
‘Wow that is some talent.’ Ife looked over at the man behind the bar and it was then it clicked, an earthquake inside her rumbled or was that thunder outside? His eyes met hers in the moment and he smiled at her, the most beautiful smile ever known to man. The most beautiful she’d ever seen. He is a mix of something obviously because his mother is Black that would make his father the Scottish half, and did she hear the faint hint of an American accent on her? He was tall and strapping, thick thighs framed by those jeans, broad shoulders, closed cropped hair, after five shave she reckoned was his signature, but she could make out the strong jaw line, firm, carnally beautiful and sensual mouth that looked like it could do things to a woman’s senses just at the mere thought of contact, his nose, strong and elegant. From the long-sleeved granddaddy collared light knit he wore, he was packing some muscles. He was a beautiful, beautiful man; that was the only word she could think of to describe him. How had she not noticed sooner? Probably because the argument with her mother still raged on inside her head. She shoved it down with a bunch of other stuff swirling about her brain. She wanted to forget and for now she will.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. It was very lovely meeting you Ife. Let Hendrix know if you need anything.’ Maya stood, she saw that look on Ife’s face having finally registered her son, same one every other woman had when they saw him, but she liked this girl, there was something about her. An obstinateness? A doggedness? She was certainly elegant and upper-class, her subtle yet aristocratic mannerisms gave her away, but something about her felt familiar; as if her being “high-born” could not get in the way of her wildness. Oh Maya noted that spark of wild in her eyes, she was intuitive like that. She would keep Hendrix on his toes, he would have to keep up with her sometimes, she was unlike the pliant girls that walked into the pub simping up to him without any sense of shame, he never went after anyone so obvious. This girl, whoever she is, is not obvious, not at all, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but she took to the whisky like an old hand whose tongue has tasted much of life. Talk about contradictory edges.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll be your mother for a minute and tell you, not another glass if you have to drive back down to St Andrews’.’
Ife smiled, ‘yes ma’am.’
Maya winked at her son on her way up to the office, glad to be out of his hair, knowing he wanted her out so he could make a move on Ife. The wink was her way of telling him she approved. Whatever that meant.