Thunder cracked overhead as we shoved through the swing doors and entered the Royal Hotel's Lavern Bar. The place was noisy, smoke-laden and packed. Pictures of Lana Turner, Rita Hayworth, Humphrey Bogart and other film stars hung on the walls. Terry eased through to the bar and Wally shuffled after him. The bar area was huge. Must have been twenty yards long. Terry bought the first round. I took a long drink of bitter, and surveyed the talent. Wally was right: there was crumpet everywhere. Very high class too.

     By nine o'clock, the bar was heaving full and you couldn't move far without catching someones arm. Wally was chatting up an old, powdery-faced bird with feathers in her hat, while Terry was lowering his fifth pint. I lighted a Woodbine and took a puff.

     A powerful hand shook my shoulder. Twisting round to complain, I found myself staring into the blue eyes of Tony Ross.

     "Hello, mate." He grinned, glass of beer in hand. "How are you these days?"

     I hadn't seen him for a couple of years. He was the fastest player I had ever seen on a football field, and he was also, like me, twenty-three. We had been in the same class at junior school and had played together for the Black Bull Inn. I knew what he wanted.

     He shouted in my ear: "I hear you've packed up playing footy. What the hell for?"

     "Broke my leg - remember?" I yelled back.

     "Sure, I remember - it was two years ago and I helped carry you off."

     I figured he had just come in for he was shivering and covered with rain droplets. It was the same old story with Tony, no matter what the weather, he never wore more than an army shirt, woolly jumper, corduroy pants, and ex-army boots with metal studs. Recent rain had plastered his fair hair flat to his bullet head. He shivered again.

     "You're freezing," I said. "Why don't you buy a raincoat?"

     He looked stung and inflated his considerable chest. "Me buy a raincoat? Not likely, I'm an unlucky lad. If I wear a raincoat the bloody sun comes out." He grinned ruefully. "I bought an umbrella last year. Tried using it when it pissed down during a match. The wind blew it inside out. I kept hold of it and it dragged me down the pitch. I let it go and it wrapped itself round a tree. The referee threatened to send me off for dangerous play." He sniffed. "That's why I think raincoats and umbrellas are a waste of time. I prefer spending money on ale and football boots." He drank more beer. "How's Laura keeping?" They had lived close to each other as children until Tony moved with his parents to Forth Park.

     "She's fine. We've got a daughter now, you know."

     "So I heard. Shotgun wedding wasn't it?" His grin widened. "That's what we expected of you though because you could never leave the birds alone."

     Tony was thick and direct and two years National Service had sharpened his tongue. Diplomacy meant nothing to him, but he said things in such a way that you couldn't take offence.

     "Yes, it was a shotgun job, Tony, but I'm happily married. You should try it."

     "Me!" His rugged face split into a wide smile. "Get married! Not bloody likely, mate. I'm staying single. There's no bird going to catch me."

     I glanced round the crowded bar. "Who have you come with?"

     "I'm with Rita. She's gone to powder her face."

     "Do I know her?"

     "Yeah, Rita Savannah, the lass who works at Lily Parkinson's record shop."

     "Never!"

     "Oh, yeah!" Tony's eyes lit up. He whispered in my ear. I could only just hear what he said: "If I play my cards right with Rita, I get preferential treatment."

     "Such as what?"

     "Such as free seventy-eight records and bedtime with flowers."

     I frowned. "What have flowers got to do with bedtime?"

     He laughed. "I'm with Rita Savannah, remember? Use your imagination, mate."

     I grinned. "She's rather old for you, isn't she?"

     Tony shrugged. "No, not really. She's thirty-three and divorced, and I'm young - but who cares?"

     "That makes her ten years older than you are."

     "I know that, but just think of her experience, mate." He downed more beer, and said, "How are you fixed for Saturday? If you're not doing anything you could play for the Bull."

     "I've packed up playing football. Don't want to break my leg again."

     "Aw, come on, Al. We can do with you at centre-forward. You know most of the lads - including Albert Cosby, Sid Binks and Mick Davis. We've been in the top three since September. With you back in the side we could win the league. It's the same league as when you used to play for us." Tony put a hand on my shoulder. It was a habit he had when coercing someone or offering them advice. "Come on," he coaxed. "You can turn out again for the Bull."

     "I'm not fit enough. Haven't played for two years."

     "That's no problem, mate. You don't have to be fit to play in that league. All you need do is kick 'em up in the air and tread on 'em when they come down."

     The cigarette burned my fingers. I dropped it, trod on it, shook my head. "Sorry, Tony. I've given it up."

     He stared, rocked my shoulder, willing me to change my mind. "Remember when we used to meet each Thursday at the Bull to select the team?" I nodded. "We still do that," he said. "Come along tomorrow night, seven-thirty. The lads will be glad to see you." I opened my mouth to argue. Tony cut me short. "No arguments. Just be there. By the way, do you still work at Cheadles?"

     "Yeah, why?"

     He grinned. "Just wondered. See you tomorrow night then. Must go - Rita's over there by the juke-box. See you, mate."

     Rita Savannah wasn't difficult to pick out in a crowd. Her head of green hair saw to that.


Somehow the beer was having no effect on me. Cigarette smoke, juke-box music, and incessant babbling voices had dulled my evening. But Terry and Wally had cornered the old girl with feathers in her hat, swapping what seemed to be, hilarious stories.

     I studied the talent. Maybe it was time to make a move. Wally was right. Deep down I had missed chasing the girls. Chasing was my speciality. Women had claws that could scratch - but I had talons that could grip. First though, I decided to take a few minutes of fresh air, and phone Laura. A large clock showed nine-thirty. I reached over heads and placed my empty beer glass on the counter. It took me a minute to reach the swing doors.

     They were suddenly pushed open in my face and I was almost struck by them. Three girls made to shove past me. The last girl stopped. A mass of chestnut hair and blue eyes. I didn't move. Neither did she.

     And I knew right then I wanted this girl.

     I stepped aside. "Sorry."

     She nodded, followed her friends, stopped, turned. Our eyes locked. Hackles rode down my back. Cold wind gusted through the door. I turned away from her and went out to the squalling night. Traffic rolled by, rain spattering off roofs. I didn't feel cold, in fact I was trying to pinpoint how I did feel, yet I came up confused. Laura would be worried by now. I needed to call her, to explain where I was. But not to explain too much. On this side of the road were three telephone kiosks close to the hotel. One was empty. I hurried into it and wiped rain from my face. Dialled Laura's number.

     "Hello?"

     I recognised Laura's voice. "It's me, love. I've been held..."

     "Where are you?"

     "I'm in Shefton at the Royal Hotel. The car's broken down. I've got some garage bloke repairing it. I'll be home as soon as I can."

     "Okay, but what are you doing in town?"

     "I just thought a change of scenery would do me good."

     "Right - we'll talk about that when you get home. And hurry up - I go to work now - remember?"

     She hung up. I shrugged, jogged back to the hotel and jostled through to the bar. Last drinks would be served at ten.

     Wally slid up to me. "Where the firkin hell have you been?" He wobbled slightly but kept tight hold of his beer glass.

     "I needed some air. Do you want another pint?"

     Wally finished his beer and slipped the glass onto the counter. "Won't say no. Terry will have the same."

     I brought out a pound note and grabbed a waiter's attention. A hand looped round my arm. I looked down and to my right. Saw chestnut hair and blue eyes. Somehow, each time we had looked for each other, we seemed to be closer. I asked her if she wanted a drink.

     "Not here. Let's go to the Chinese Dragon."

     The Dragon was a new restaurant close by. I had been there once and had enjoyed the food.

     "Okay, give me a minute. I'm getting in a round for my pals."

     Wally, on the other side of me, dug an elbow into my ribs. "Here, who's the bird
 then?"

     "Don't know, but I'll find out," I hissed. "Can you lads make your own way home?"

     Wally grinned as I handed him two pints. He winked. "Told you about the birds here, didn't I?"

     I collected change, dropped it into my pocket, then the girl and I turned together and pushed through the crowd towards the door. Tony and Rita spotted us from the juke-box. Both waved, and gave me perceptive looks.

The Dragon Restaurant stood aloof, shadowy and mystic among soft-lighted colours on Lattice Row. It was almost full. We left our coats at Reception. The decor was exceptional and strictly Chinese. My companion appeared known by the staff. A waitress ushered us to a table for two on which burned an elongated pink candle standing in a decorative ivory holder. A waiter gave us the wine menu. I glimpsed prices on the back of it and knew instantly I was out of my league. I thought, please girlie, if you want a drink - chose Dandelion and Burdock.

     I studied her in the candlelight. She had stunning features. Wide-set eyes. Oval face. Chestnut hair in natural ringlets that tumbled to her shoulders. I had that tingling feeling again at the back of my neck.

     She glanced up from the wine menu. "Do you drink red or white?"

     I shrugged - hadn't a clue what she meant. "Either, I'm not bothered."

     Her smile widened a fraction, showing perfect teeth. "May I choose?"

     "Sure - ladies first."

     "That's nice of you - thanks."

     A food menu lay to my left. I checked it out. It was written in Chinese with English equivalents. I didn't even understand some of the equivalents.

     "You could try chicken and almonds with special fried rice," she said. I went along with that. She chose chow mien topped with shredded beef. I did a sly check on the prices. She leaned forward. "Please allow me to pay for it."

     I couldn't believe it. A beautiful girl paying the bill! And I didn't even know her name. "That's good of you," I said, "but..."

     "I insist." She opened a grey table napkin and spread it on her lap. I would have answered her, but then the restaurant door opened and in walked Tony Ross and green-haired Rita Savannah.

     I'm six feet and one inch. I shrunk several inches trying to avoid Tony's gaze, but like steel attracted to a magnet, his eyes picked me out. A waitress escorted them to a table for two at the opposite end of the restaurant. Tony said something to Rita and came over.

     "Hiya, Al." He slapped my back. "Good to see you again." He turned to my companion, obviously keen to introduce himself. "I'm Tony Ross."

     She shook his outstretched hand. "I'm Natalie Schaeffer."

     A waiter came to collect our orders. Tony frowned for a moment, then gave me a glance of grudging admiration, mingled with another feature that I couldn't understand. He said, "Don't forget, Al. See you at the Bull tomorrow night," and returned to his table.

     Natalie took charge of ordering. After the waiter had left she placed her elbows on the green tablecloth and rested her chin on linked fingers. "Tony called you Al."

     "Yes - I'm Alan Dibley."

     "Is Tony a close friend of yours?"

     "Yes, you could say that. We used to play football for the same team."

     "Professionally?"

     "Oh no, I'm not that good."

     "Do you still play?"

     "No. Broke my leg two years ago. Haven't played since then."

     Something she had said to Tony bothered me and I couldn't figure out what it was. I went over their brief conversation in my mind. Tony had introduced himself...Natalie had done likewise, and...Tony reminded me to visit the Black Bull tomorrow night. That was all that had been said. So what was it I had missed? I shrugged. Maybe the beer I had consumed was taking effect. I broke up a bread roll and spread butter on it.

     "Penny for your thoughts?"

     I looked up at her and realised I had been staring into space. I apologised. The wine waiter came, poured wine into a glass next to me and hesitated. I nodded, said thanks and wondered why he was hanging around. His eyebrows raised. I nodded again. He poured wine for both of us, left the half-filled bottle and backed off. Natalie said the waiter had wanted me to taste the wine before accepting it. Wine's wine, isn't it, I said.

     "Tasting is part of wine protocol," she said.

     I'd heard of protocol. It had come up in a crossword puzzle at work. It meant etiquette. "Wine etiquette," I said. She looked impressed. That pleased me. It was good to know I'd got something right.

     The rest of the meal passed pleasantly. We finished with small cups of exquisite coffee. Maybe it was the wine on top of the beer that made me ask to see her again. I suggested we meet in Shefton on Saturday afternoon. I sensed her attitude change. She paid the bill at the table making me feel a foot shorter than I am.

     "I will decide if we meet again, Alan."

     I sat back and relaxed. "I see, you go out with a fellow; you pay the bill; you make him feel small, and then you ditch him. Is that right?"

     "No, that's not right. I can afford to pay my own way. I don't go out with a man to wring every penny from him."

     "Then why go out with him in the first place?"

     "Maybe because I like him. Maybe because he's smartly-dressed. Because of - a lot of things."

     "Do you like the man you're with now to see him this Saturday afternoon in Shefton?"

     A faint smile hovered on her lips. "I might do." She rose, picked up her crocodile leather handbag. "Let's talk about it while you take me home."

     "I have a car parked nearby."

     "We don't need it: I live not five minutes walk from here."

     We collected our coats at Reception. I tipped a waitress, held the door open for Natalie. waved to Tony and Rita, and stepped out to a cobbled street of flooded drains. The heavy rain had eased to a ghostly drizzle. Somewhere close by, rainwater was overflowing from a blocked guttering and splashing the sidewalk.

     At the end of Lattice Row, she pointed to the City Hall, across Connaught Square. "I live near there. On Golden Street. Second floor flat."

     "Alone?"

     "No. With Angela and Iris."

     "The girls you were with tonight?"

     "Yes." We hurried across the Square, passed alongside the City Concert Hall, and turned onto a subdued side street that seemed immune to sounds of nearby traffic. She stopped under a corner street light and stared up at me. "Do you want to see me again?" Her voice was soft, yet husky.

     "Sure I do."

     "Saturday, then?"

     Saturday now seemed a long way off. "How about tomorrow night?"

     "I thought you were seeing Tony tomorrow night?"

     "No. He's trying to get me to play football again but I'm not interested."

     "Thursday's a bit soon, isn't it?"

     "Not for me it isn't. You're very attractive. That's why I'd love to see you tomorrow."

     "Okay then. How about the City Hall Concert?"

     I frowned. "What about it?"

     "There's a Vivaldi concert tomorrow night. I have a friend who works at the ticket office. I can get hold of two tickets during my lunch break. If you want to go it starts at eight o'clock."

     Vivaldi? Never heard of him. Was he a jazz musician? I reached for my wallet. "I'll give you cash to pay for them."

     "Doesn't matter. We can settle that tomorrow. I'll meet you at the main entrance at quarter to eight." And with that, she turned abruptly and hurried along Golden Street, high-heels clicking on the paving stones. Obviously she had given up on me escorting her home. I stayed under the street light until she turned right and disappeared from my view. Suddenly, I felt alone. A sense of loss. Felt I had almost lost her before I had found her. Christ - I barely knew the girl so why was I feeling like this? And then, that nagging doubt came back to me. What could it be that was warning me to stay away from Natalie Schaeffer? I thought again of the brief words between Tony Ross and Natalie. Somehow, Tony had appeared on guard, his glance in my direction seemed to be a silent caution. I shrugged - maybe I was envisaging a problem when there wasn't one.
     I didn't bother going back to look for Wally and Terry because they usually hit some down-and-out club and drank until either the place was dry, or they were broke.
     As I drove home I was seeing Natalie's face in front of me.