The Quiet Traveller

Well, look who it is,’ said Margaret before immediately turning her back on me to face the bar. One of the lads raised his chin a little in acknowledgement of me but without a smile, as the other lad whispered something in his ear. Neither of the young men seemed happy or relaxed but I didn’t get the impression they were talking about me.
    I looked at Margaret in her designer jeans, designer top, designer trainers, designer jewellery and designer hair, half perusing the bottles of various spirits lining the shelves behind the bar and half glancing at herself in the mirror, always careful not to catch my eye. If I hadn’t got the vibe earlier on then I sure as hell was getting it now.
    ‘Thought you’d join us after all then, eh?’
    It was Barry, the dark-haired, shorter lad. I turned to him and mumbled “yeah”, wishing I’d stayed at the hostel now, feeling ridiculous and alone even though they had asked me earlier if I had wanted to join them. Margaret continued to deliberately ignore me and the other lad was still talking quietly into his mate’s ear. Barry laughed this time.
    ‘Yea, better than sitting in the room innit,’ said Barry again, laughing to himself and the blonde lad, Gavin, had turned his back on us and now stood at the bar, smirking. He glanced across at Margaret but she didn’t notice him; she was still sulking.
    I looked at Margaret again, determined to get some sort of recognition from her. What had I done? I kept myself to myself and so did she; what was with the animosity? And…well, look who it is; what the hell was that supposed to mean?
    I offered the lads a drink but they already had one. I didn’t offer Margaret one. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with me. Fuck her, I thought; she’s probably just upset about having such an old woman’s name.

* * * * * * * * * * *
Back in the room lying on my bunk I wasn’t tired yet so I read a book for a while trying to make myself tired. I didn’t want to be awake when they all got back.
    I read for about an hour and it was nearly half-past eleven. I was just about to finish my last chapter for the night when I heard them; I groaned inside. They entered noisily, Barry and Gavin laughing, Margaret talking to them without humour and then they would laugh again.
    ‘Look who it is,’ said Margaret.
    Yes you said that earlier, I thought to myself. I continued to read, determined not to show any sign that they were bothering me. The truth was I was happy relaxing and I was happy that I was me. Let Margaret be Margaret, I didn’t care.
    ‘What are you reading?’ asked Gavin.
    ‘A book,’ I huffed.
    ‘Right…right,’ said Gavin sarcastically, like I’d said something fascinating.
    ‘Leave him alone,’ said Barry.
    ‘I only asked what he was reading.’
    Margaret was fiddling around a lot in her handbag. I tried to continue reading but I’d just read the same sentence four times. I threw my book off to the side, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.