In the quiet of a January evening, there were only a few die hard drinkers in the Dragon, braving the icy sub zero cold. It was Monday, the day the lad had off. Charlie was stood watching the snooker on the TV screen in the public bar. His only attempt at modernisation. He refused to have a jukebox or any slot machines as he found them disruptive. The door opened and an icy blast of air announced the arrival of Baz, retired sergeant major in the Royal Engineers. "Evening Charlie, pint of my usual."
"Good to see you Baz. Have a good Christmas?"
"It was noisy, my daughter's boyfriend is a bit of a punk rocker. I was glad when he went out, none of that noise he called music. Janine is still a daddy's girl, she treated me to some excellent food. Then spent her time complaining about Pat's new husband. She's barely civil to her mum these days. Phil ain't that bad."
"He ain't you, is he. You look half frozen, mate. Get yourself into the snug by the fire." Charlie had met Phil the plumber, the man was loud and obnoxious, happy to flaunt his wealth.
"And have to make conversation with Bea, no thanks. I'll warm up soon enough." With that the old soldier took a big swig of his bitter and then lit up a cigarette. He hated the fact he was now a magnet for every single woman within a five mile radius. He might be divorced, but the only woman for him was his Patricia. He was getting used to being single, living in his small studio apartment. It was like being back in the army, he spent his evening either at the Legion or the Dragon. Dating was the last thing on his mind. He thanked his lucky stars his daughter was still in contact. Most of his divorced friends had terrible relationships with their kids.
Charlie went around to collect the three dirty glasses. As he arrived back to serve "So, what do you make of my new barman?"
"Alex, knows his stuff, bright and sharp. I had a long chat to him about him joining the army. Turns out he has a heart condition. Told me his father was a paratrooper. What I could piece together, he spent a lot of time in foster care. Someone along the way did a number on him. Probably his uncle. He's had a rough deal, no mistake. He reminds me of Dan in my regiment." The old man scratched his moustache and thought of Dangerous Dan. Depression and PTSD had taken their toll on Dan, who had drunk himself to death. The kid was completely teetotal. Not even tempted with the occasional half.
"Yeah, the kid changes the subject when I ask about family. He's been on the streets and trying to find his feet. If he was some Jonny foreigner he'd be on the social in a nice council flat. That kid wants to be independent. He's a hard worker, he'll do alright. Then again I get the feeling that kid has learned to look after himself because there was no one looking out for him and he prefers that way."
…
The end of February was approaching, it was time to move on. Alex had really liked working for Charlie. His room had been barely big enough for its narrow bed, but it was warm and dry. The kitchen was finished, Alex had helped paint Charlie's living room as well. Now, the publican was looking for a cook or chef, maybe even someone who wanted to take over as he was getting too old for heavy work. Alex had liked the atmosphere, the right mix of regulars, tourists, students and passing trade. Charlie knew how to serve a decent pint and Alex had learned that bar work was something he liked. Listening to normal problems and ordinary lives. He knew Charlie was worried about him. Being so anti-establishment was not normal. Baz, one of the regulars had Alex sussed, he guess Alex had been abused badly and had major trust issues. It did not help that his driving licence was addresses for St. Brendan's. They knew he was an OK kid but one that society had failed. The old gits were the type that did not make a fuss and if the kid didn't want to be on the social that was his choice, end of story.
Working in a pub had also been good for Alex's sex life. He was no longer a virgin. He could thank the bitterly divorced Mrs Beatrice MacKenzie for popping his cherry. The forty something had needed cheering up after her husband on nearly twenty-five years left to shack up with his twenty-two year old PA. It had not started out as a date, but Charlie insisting Alex see the tipsy and upset lady home. He had been a perfect gentleman. The next day he had asked her to lunch, to cheer her up. She reminded him a bit of the serial heartbreaks Jack suffered over each and every one of her boyfriends. After a trip to the cinema, Bea had invited him to her place for a coffee. It could have been described as two lonely people connecting. In reality, it was tender, slow and wonderful. Alex had learned there was much more to sex than the mere act of fucking. Alex had been taught consideration, patience, sensual touch, foreplay and erogenous zones were the way to please a lady. Their brief fling had given Bea her confidence back. She was going out to enjoy herself, not in the single minded pursuit of a new man. She was no longer a wife but she was still a beautiful, desirable woman.
The time in Pimlico had healed some raw wounds for the ex-spy. Living with normal people had shown him his decision to walk away from Ian's money had been the right one. He was poor, but he did not need a house in Chelsea or the threat of the Bank hanging over him. This was freedom at a price, but it was better than the alternative.