Claire and Lexa walked into the pub and made their way to the bar, unobtrusively trying to take the measure of the place. It was clearly not an establishment for people like them. Claire and Lexa did not normally think of themselves as old, but they were very conscious that this was a pub for people far younger than they were. They could tell this from the posters for hipster bands and films on the walls and from the scattering of trendy young student types in for a late afternoon drink. The music blasting from the PA system was also very much the kind of thing that young people like.
"Gin and tonic for me", said Claire.
"Do you have any real ales?" said Lexa.
"Sorry love, we only do lager". The intonation on the word "love" did not carry any sense of it being used in a patronising manner.
"OK, half of Carling for me, then".
The two women sipped at their drinks and talked inconsequentially in a manner they had been trained for by the Organisation. When their drinks were finished, they caught the barman's eye and ordered another round. As he was giving back their change Maguire said, "I hear a friend of ours used to drink here".
"Yeah?" said the barman, non-committally. A lot of people drink or used to drink in my pub".
"Yeah, maybe you'd remember him?" she continued. "An Irish guy. He was a bit different to most people who came in here. Would have been in his mid thirties, long-ish hair, scratchy beard. He would have been here a bit a few weeks ago".
"Are you from the cops? Or National Security?"
"Oh no", said Claire.
"Well where are you from then?"
"Well, it's complicated. Let's just say we're friends of his".
"Very good friends", said Lexa, sliding over a fifty pound note to the barman. He carefully took it and pocketed it.
"I think I remember your friend", he said. "He was also bit flash with the cash. David, he said he was. I think I called him Dave".
"Our friend has gone missing", said Lexa.
"I heard that", said the barman.
"We're trying to find him".
"Do you remember anything about him?" asked Claire. "Like, anything he said or who he who he talked to? Did he come in with anyone else, or did anyone else meet him here?"
"I mostly just served him drinks. He was a sociable guy, full of chat, but he was guarded – the kind of guy who says everything and nothing, you know what I mean?"
"That's him alright".
"I thought maybe he was, you know, in some kind of trouble. Lying low for a bit".
"But you didn't report him to National Security?" said Lexa
"No", the barman was uncomfortable now. "Not trouble here, I mean back at home in Ireland".
"But aren't you meant to report anyone who seems a bit suspicious?"
"Well I suppose I am", said the barman. "Like I should probably report two birds coming in and asking a lot of questions. But National Security don't like having their time wasted, and if I reported everyone who comes in here and says something a bit funny then they'd be filling in reports from now till doomsday".
"Don't worry about it", said Claire. "Those guys do a good job, but I hear they can be a bit… over-zealous".
"Yeah, I can't run a pub if all my customers are off in Paddington Green". He was a bit agitated now, wondering if these two nosey women were likely sources of trouble.
"Sure", said Lexa. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. But who did our friend talk to when he was in, or did he drink on his own?"
"I told you, he was a sociable guy. Liked to buy drinks for everyone, and the students love someone who'll buy them drinks. So he talked to a lot of people".
"Anyone in particular?" said Lexa.
"Well…" said the barman, and then paused. "Well, I don't want to speak out of turn. Are either of you, you know, his missus?"
"Oh no", said Lexa.
"We're just friends", said Claire.
"Well that's alright then, because I don't think his missus would like to hear that he was all over the young girls who come in here. Especially keen on buying them drinks, he was. I'll be honest with you, I had to keep an eye on him with them, in case he tried anything on. Last thing I want is for my pub to get a name as somewhere sleazy old guys go to pick up student girls".
"You wouldn't want that", agreed Claire.
"But it wasn't a problem, the girls here know how to handle themselves. They let him buy them drinks, but he didn't get even a whiff of any how's-your-father, though I think he might have got a sympathy hand shandy under the table once".
"Really?" said Lexa.
"Well, I'm not sure. But that's about the size of it. Your mate came in here, bought everyone drinks, hung out with the students, tried it on with the girls, got nowhere – "
"Apart, possibly, from a hand shandy?" said Claire.
"Right, apart possibly from a hand shandy. And then he'd go home. He didn't have any other mates who came in with him, and no one I didn't recognise ever came in to meet him. Here – you want another round?"
"Why not?" said Claire. "Having one yourself?"
"Bit early for me", said the barman, "and I'm working. But what the hell".
He fixed them their drinks and came back with a brandy for himself.
"So that was really the size of it", said the barman. "Apart from the last night he was here".
"What happened then?" asked Claire.
"Well", said the barman, "he was in a bit of a state. He seemed a bit cut up about something, but he wasn't telling anyone what it was. Instead he was just buying a lot of drink, mostly for himself. And then he started acting aggressively, like he was trying to pick a fight with someone, with anyone really. I can't be having that in my boozer, so I threw him out, told him I'd call the cops if he came back. He wasn't happy with that, I can tell you, and for a moment he looked like he was going to have a go at me. Now, I'm not the kind of guy who starts fights, but if one starts I know how to handle myself. But I'm telling you, your mate, when he looked like he was going to turn on me, well, I was shitting myself, I was, literally shitting myself".
"Literally shitting yourself?" said Lexa, who was prone to pedantry.
"Literally. But then he thought better of it and he slunk off. And I never saw him again".
"Mmmm", said Claire, wondering if what they had heard would lead them anywhere. Probably not.
"Hey", said Lexa. "Any of these people here, would he have talked to them when he was in?"
"Sure", said the barman. "See that lot over there?" He indicated a table at which three young women and a spotty faced young man were nursing pints. They all looked of an age where they should really be drinking lemonade or Ribena. "He used to drink with them a bit. Had a bit of a thing for the blonde-haired girl".
"It wasn't her who…?" asked Claire.
"No, he's not here tonight".
Claire looked quizzically at the barman.
"Long story. You really don't want to know".
"We'll take your word for it", said Lexa. "OK, what are those four drinking? Set them up with another round".
"On us, obviously", said Claire.
Claire and Lexa joined the students, who liked having drinks for them and were happy to talk about "Dave", the weird old guy who for a week or two came in an bought drinks for everyone before disappearing, only to show up a few weeks later only to be thrown out for outrageously drunken and disorderly behaviour. But they did not hear anything of substance bar speculation as to who might or might not have bestowed a hand shandy on Ryan, with several names being mentioned being mentioned and heated argument on the subject erupting between the students. Eventually the students drifted off into discussing the latest popular TV comedy programme and re-enacting routines from it, whereupon Claire and Lexa decided that there were limits to the generosity of Organisation. Bidding farewell to the students and the barman, though not before Claire gave the barman the same number she gave to the manager of the Cartwright Friendly, they took their leave of the pub that Ryan had frequented and started on the walk down to the Tube station.
They had not gone far when Claire said, "Don't turn around or anything, but I think we're being followed".
19/11/2011
An inuit panda production
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