Harry sat down on the empty barstool and ordered a drink.
"There you go" the bartender said, pushing the glass pint down the mahogany coloured table. Harry caught the pint in time and thanked him by nodding his head.
He took a sip, and shook his head, his face was cringing from the flavour, he remembered what his uncle had said when he gave him his first can of beer and Harry hated the taste;
"Son, you don't drink beer for the flavour"
And he was right, as cliché as it seemed, it did help Harry numb the pain in his life, he had to drop out of university to take care of his sick mother, but he also had a full time job to pay the bills. Sometimes he wished that he could just leave this country, start fresh somewhere else, but his mother kept him back.
It's not like he wanted to leave her, but sometimes he just felt like she had ruined his life in a way. He shook his head again, cleaning away those awful thoughts.
"You right, kid?" the bartender asked, his fist was covered in a white cloth as he twisted it around the inside of a cup. Harry shrugged, but gave the man a shallow smile – like he always did - The bartender nodded and walked to the other end of the bar, tending to another customer.
Harry looked around the bar, surveying his surroundings; it was a small pub, the walls were covered in several Irish paintings, the floor was wooden and brown and there were few tables – He liked these smaller, family owned pubs, they had a charm to them, and it was a breath of fresh air from what he was used to – He kept looking around, the bar was pretty empty, only two people were there – including himself – He swung back and kept drinking.
"Hey" a sweet voice said, "Can I have a beer?" She sat down in the chair next to his and grabbed the bottle.
"On the house, love" the bartender smiled while giving her the bottle.
"Thanks Pete" she nodded the bottle towards him and smiled. Harry quickly glanced at the girl; she had red hair, which looked like it was on the verge of becoming brown, she had big green eyes and sweet pink lips which weren't too skinny or too plump. He examined her face; he kept having images flash in his mind of a girl he used to be best friends with.
Could it be her? He asked himself, No, it can't be, she moved to Australia years ago.
Her pale face and curvy frame haunted his mind for a few seconds; he was totally oblivious to everything else.
"Harry?" she asked, leaning her head to the side. He shook his head and came back to reality; he was a little disoriented at first.
"It's me!" she pointed at herself; "Estella" Harry furrowed his eyebrows and thought for a moment.
"We used to be best friends when we were kids?" she turned her hand around in a circle to remind him. Harry shot up from his slouchy posture to a straight one.
"Stella-Ella!" he exclaimed and she giggled.
"Yeah, that's me" she hugged him, "How have you been?"
Harry thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell her or not. He decided not to, she doesn't need to know.
"I've been good" he lied through his teeth, he had done that so many times that he thought of himself of a pro at lying, "And you?"
She thought for a moment as well, in the same position as Harry. Her life was good until two years ago, when her mother died and she was forced to move back to London with her father – she always liked her dad, but ever since the death of her mother, he was being abusive, blaming her for the death. Estella had been cutting herself secretly ever since that started, it was her only outlet, and she had been addicted to it, but she decided to lie, Harry didn't need to know, all he would do is worry.
"Fine" she finally blurted out.
"What are you doing back here?" Harry asked, while taking another sip of his beer.
"Family stuff," she sighed, "Long story short, I'm living with my dad" Harry didn't ask many questions about that, and she was relieved.
"What about school?" he asked, "How is that going?"
"Good" she lied again, it was horrible, her father hasn't been paying her tuition lately, and the school got fed up and kicked her out. Her father had plenty of money, he just hated Estelle – his own goddamn daughter – "You?"
"Decided to wait a few years," he said with a little frown, "Family issues"
"Like what?" she asked, but regretted it after, she wasn't a nosey person, but when it came to Harry, she was concerned.
"Don't worry" he sighed and gave her another shallow smile, "I'm off" Harry got up and grabbed his leather jacket, putting on the hood and quickly walking out the door.
"Your friend seems depressed" Pete pointed out, still cleaning cups.
"Yeah" Estelle said, her eyes still on the door, she sighed and faced Pete, "That's what I'm worried about"