Back again, might do a double upload tonight cause I'm feeling kinda generous and cheerful and stuff ^_^
Also, I just want to say thanks to Rosalia and the rest of you who review, you lovely people are the ones who keep me writing :3 ~nellen xx
An hour later, a cleaner, slightly better dressed Clive stumbled out of the house, locking the door behind him.
He walked to the square with an extra spring in his step that morning, something a few of the pub regulars easily picked up on.
"You look cheerful," the old barmaid smiled, collecting some empty glasses from one of the tables, "we missed you yesterday, I could swear we even lost business!"
"Aw, I'm sorry Sal, I missed you too," he returned her smile as he began tuning his guitar, brow furrowed as he fiddled with the strings.
"I'll bet you were with that girl weren't you?" A familiar, knowing laugh caused him to blush furiously. Len's laugh.
Len was one of the outdoor table regulars who never seemed to leave. Despite his age, which Clive assumed was pretty darn old, he was never bothered by cold or rain. He just sat there, keeping punters entertained with his stories and occasionally dirty jokes. He'd always been nice to Clive, sharing his bar meals or buying him the occasional pint. The barmaid was nice too, as Clive's music tended to bring customers to the little beer garden and as she always said "more business was better business."
The lad always meant to point out that she was getting the saying wrong, but the old man had stopped him.
"Keep her sweet, she gives out free beer to the sweet ones."
That was a lesson that had proved itself to be true upon many a night.
"N-no I wasn't!" Clive stuttered in embarrassment, taking a sudden interest in the floor, "I-I mean, what girl?"
"The pretty little thing in the orange dress," Len's laugh became heartier as the boy's cheeks continued to incinerate.
"There were a lot of pretty girls in orange dresses here this week."
"The one you went home with yesterday," he persisted, to the point where Clive felt his face would explode.
"Well, yes, I was," he sighed, scratching his neck. "Would you mind if I just got on with singing or something?"
Len chuckled, "not at all lad, could you do that Andy Williams' song you do so well?"
"Of course," he smiled curtly, picking up his guitar. "By which I assume you mean-"
"Can't take my eyes off you," the old man nodded, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair.
Clive remembered the first time he'd sang this as his lips formed the words. Considerably shyer and fresh out of prison, it was the first song he'd ever plucked up the courage to perform. It was a high earner too, and although now people generally preferred some of the more modern stuff, it still was. He still made sure to sing it at least once a month though, it kept Len happy.
He finished the final verse, lowering his guitar to a round of applause and taking a quick bow and a sip of his water.
"That's my lad," the old man at the table grinned, "oh, I have something to ask you, I completely forgot, come here."
Clive frowned uncertainly, which had manipulated into a smile by the time he sat down across from the man.
"What are you doing this winter?" He asked, and Clive had to pause to think before he answered.
"Uh... I dunno, why?"
"Sorry, let me rephrase that, I mean where are you staying?" Len repeated, then explained, "I won't have you on the streets another one, I'm telling you. I was going to ask you last year as well, but you kept disappearing before I had chance to."
"Oh..." Clive paused again, touched by the kind offer, yet unsure how to respond. He couldn't exactly tell the man he'd been sleeping around for shelter could he? Len was one of the few who knew about the prison story and wasn't bothered by it. In fact it was one of the reasons Clive was so fond of him, as Len actually understood the reasons behind it.
"Oh, I couldn't, I'm sure your family wouldn't feel all too comfortable with a strange homeless boy in the house. I'll be okay, I'll find somewhere to stay, I did last year," the young man smiled politely, declining the offer as he thought would be best.
"At least let me pay for you to stay somewhere, go on, I have money," the older man persisted, but Clive shook his head.
"As do I, I promise, I'll find somewhere."
"Well if you don't, you tell me, alright?" Clive nodded silently as Len continued, "because I won't have you sleeping on the streets in minus temperatures, and I won't have you going home with a different lass every night either."
Clive blushed, looking down at the floor. His companion laughed at his discomfort, "there ain't much gets past me, laddie. Just as long as you don't end up a dad, that's all you bloody need."
The boy blushed harder at the man's teasing, mumbling "I know."
Len softened, reducing his hearty roar to a slight chuckle, "I think that pretty young girl in the orange dress liked you enough to let you stay longer anyways, maybe you'll have a bed and a girl after all this Christmas."
That was it. Clive closed his eyes as his entire face began to burn. He wasn't sure why though, it wasn't as though anything had been implied or anything. "Maybe it's because it's Flora and you know it'd be wrong," a voice told him. "Maybe it's because it's Flora and you know you're starting to like her," said another. He stuck with the first one, taking control of his embarrassment and laughing weakly, "I think a sofa and a friend might be more accurate."
His friend grinned, sliding the lad the remainders of his breakfast, "whatever you say boy, there ain't nothing sweeter than young love."
"Deep breaths, Clive, he's joking, he's joking. She's a friend. She's a friend."
But nothing could shake the old man's words from his mind.