Rather an old memory now, however many of the details stuck so I’ve attempted to fold them into a narrative. Reading it back now it seems a little hollow. Anyway the night went like this...

Friday, hooray. The weekend was scampering up fast and I admit I’d been in my Covent Garden local for a couple of hours and was beginning to wear the evening on my face. I'd parked at a table near the bar just to be close to Lilly, her fellow server Sam and the handpumps; there are good boozers in the area with a decent selection of ales. Sam was new to the place but Lilly was – still is – an old buddy, so I was trying to catch her eye when I needed refills.
While many of my peer group would be bragging about how much they pretend to earn while soaking their physogs in one of the clubbier joints, I much prefer pubs because I enjoy the ale choices and the customers are mostly less bullshitty. And more to my liking, the women in pubs appear to be more ‘real’ than the clubber types and I’d been amusing myself weighing up the potential Friday night opportunities. Residing in Holborn I’m close to the action thanks to living more or less in the centre of the world’s greatest city. Yes it’s a city – in my opinion anyone calling it a ‘town’ should be forced to lick public toilets.

I was halfway through my fifth pint and on the cusp of losing interest in fun physical activities, when this Vision, the type after which every man lusts, entered the pub and creamed her way to the bar through the slightly odourous office leftovers who stared after her with alcohol-generated desire. They had no choice but to part as this portion of feminine perfection smoothed her way through to face Lilly behind the bar and ordered a pint of cask, which surprised me temporarily.

“Ooh yeah, all over me pulease...” I couldn’t help myself; she was stunning. But then I realised I’d said that out loud. Awkward. Utilising that alcoholic sixth sense which males in a pub can practically taste, I knew I’d been instantly judged by my own species. I didn’t know any of those office types beyond a nod, not really. And the Vision, for such she was, gave me the sneeriest stare I’ve ever experienced.

“What? Did you just say something monkey?”

“Ah, erm I said that out loud eh. I was admiring your poise and natural grace. It might have come out different,” I not quite almost lied while telling a sort of truth.

“Yes it did, you were doing me in your grrreasy little mind.” She rolled the ‘r’. She looked round the pub before zeroing in on me again. “All any of you ever think about is sex and now you want to get at me. That’s just the sort of thing I expect from all of you infantile knuckle draggers. I'll tell you what you’re good for. Nothing. You should all be shot several times through the testicles so I can enjoy the sound of your screams and when I’m bored with that a couple in your brains to finish you off.”

The other pub-goers got the idea and shunned the pair of us. A very angry lady! One tiny little off colour comment and suddenly I’m Vlad the Impaler. Well okay she might have had a small point in there somewhere so kick in the goolies time, metaphorically I hoped. The pub had gone embarrassingly quiet and I needed to regain my balance. In the face of that tirade I gathered my withering humours which weren’t the only thing withering and to my own amazement and defence of manhood formulated an intelligent, witty reply. Oscar Wilde couldn't have done better: “A nice line in dom-matriarchal savagery you have there. Why don’t you sit down and tell daddy all about it?”

“That, right there! Lying, cheating, hypocritical, body-hopping, bullshitting, misogynistic ape!”

In the background Lilly went from smug to startled and back to smug again. I stood up in the hope that being upright might help me regain some ground with the flow of my natural charm, then sat down again with a smarting cheek and embarrassment upon the action of what felt like a well-practised welt. Yep, she’d slapped me.

“Jeez, I wasn’t dissing you, I harbour nothing but the deepest admiration and respect for you!” I’m remarkably clever sometimes.

Lilly, who’d been nodding in agreement with the Vision's previous comments regarding males, went swiftly from amused to getting stiff with her. “Oy oy, he didn’t deserve that. Calm it down, he’s not exactly waving it around, he’s easily handled.” Although that sentence conjured up mixed responses in my mind I thanked Lilly silently while the pings popped out of my cheek.

Lilly and I had known each other fifteen years, where each other lived and all that, boozy times as friends but never any sticky stuff. I knew she would defend me. “You bloody idiot!” So much for defending me.

“Really Lil?” It’s true, no-one can say anything these days without dropping themselves in it.

“You’re both being stupid. Both of you take it down several notches. And you madam, don’t slap my customers around, that’s my job and the only fun I get. What’s your name?”

“Claire, but...”

“Okay Claire But, sit down and chill.”

So, thanks to Lilly I got her name. She looked like a Claire as well, with big wavy blonde hair like an eighties film star. What she didn't look like was a pub drinker.

Now I knew her name I stood up again to say a proper hello just as she sat down. Bit of physical comedy there, but no icebreaker. I sensed that the rest of the evening was going to be awkward, as if it wasn’t now. Facing me across the little table though she was Claire didn’t seem all that interested in looking in my direction, instead constantly glancing around the room in attack mode as she swigged back half her ale.

“I’m over here!” I said, swaying left to right.

“Oh so you are. Why? Don’t answer that.” She glanecd in Lilly's direction. “I have made a mental note that this appears to be your watering hole.”

Ah, a touch of upper crust? I was taken with her pronunciation of the word ‘hole’; she said it like ‘houl’. And ‘made a mental note’? I decided to attempt being nice by making a statement. “Claire. I rescind, repudiate and regret my personality. I have others, perhaps this one will be more suitable to whatever’s happening. Please allow me the honour of buying you a pint, that one’s looking sad.”

“Yes as I’m here I’ll take drink from you, you appear to be that sort of idiot... sorry. Not that whoever you are need to know my business however, I think I need to talk. You see, I’ve just dislodged myself from a cheat and a swindler. Either way he’s dead to me but alive and kicking to my lawyer.”

Intrigue hey! “Hold on, stay there, I’ll be right back.” I stood up and practically ran to the bar, all of a yard distant.

Lilly, with her bar-bred radar hearing, had been earwigging in between serving the office workers who’d thinned out dramatically with the realisation that trains, dinners and delights with other halves were at risk. She signed for me to move further up the bar.

“Something’s going on with her, I can smell it. Be careful.”

“Do not worry, my little sausage. When have you ever known me to get over-involved?”

“This obviously isn’t just an encounter of your usual kind, this has all the hallmarks of a sticky end.”

Ah, my filthy sense of humour. “Well, you never know! But seriously, I’ll be fine – I really want to hear her story now.”

Lilly gave me a ‘you’re a twit’ look and leaned in, keeping her voice low and meaningful. “Look, just don’t get sucked in!”

The teenage boy in the male adult is strong. I sniggered and Lil waved her hands in dismissal, realising what she’d said. With no little exasperation she pulled two pints which I carried back to our table with great reverence. Considering this was pint number six I was as reverent as a nun at prayers.
Claire thanked me, took a sip then looked at me squint-eyed. “You’re drunk.” J’accuse.

“Maybe just enough. I’m curious Claire, you don't look like the pub type, what made you come in here?”

“I work in a world of pretension and corporate guile. I like to take a break from that and see some reality every now and again.” Now that was a satisfying answer and perfectly understandable to me. Claire was no Ab Fab character.

“You have gained my interest and, oddly, not in the amorous manner which you may believe to have been originally intended, but more in the manner of The 39 Steps.” Eh?? What was I talking about. Perhaps I should drink slower. “Sounds like you have a tale to relate and telling an outsider might do some good. I’m listening.”

“Oh really. My company’s law firm will be dealing with it. But as I’m here and I'm angry and you make a good target, what the hell. I own a PR company, hopefully still do. Whether I do or not is down to one rat who got into my life and started nibbling away at it.”

Here we go, a variation on the ‘all men are horrid’ speech. Little did I know this particular man would leave us all tarnished. I must have been sporting my attentive face because Claire continued.

“My lawyers tell me to be discrete but I’m quite prepared to live down to a stereotype in this instance and make noise. The bastard in question, I'll call him ‘Dick’, applied for a media writer position I was offering. He was clean and good looking, his creds were good and to begin with all was well. It wasn’t long before he started making suggestions on how to handle clients face to face. Okay I thought, chuck him in at the deep end and see what happens. He turned out to be very good in client meetings, quick-witted and ready with appropriate and sensible replies to queries. I began to think I could sit back and test him out on client services, a bit of soon-to-be promotion. This worked better than expected and I promoted 'Dick' to client services manager with a decent pay rise.”

I liked the idea of Claire owning a PR company, it fitted her and to be honest it was somehow sexy. I wanted her to talk 'biz' some more. “Okay, sounds normal so far. Only thing is, this Dick of yours sounds a bit oily.” Sometimes I wish I couldn’t hear myself.

“Being slick is a professional aspect of the business, it's not a red flag in itself. However, I admit to being the sucker in this case. Although naturally cautious and suspicious, I occasionally get the urge to indulge myself and Dick had all the appropriate requirements.”

So, although somewhat straight-laced Claire was open to a spot of no-strings extra-curricular; it ocurred to me that in spite of my lousy beginning there were always possibilities. “Getting your end away with someone who works for you? Is that a good idea?”

She wasn’t about to rise to my vulgarity. “Not usually, no, but I'm used to being in control and never had the time or desire to get bogged down in the tedium of a genuine relationship.”

I understood her point, women with Claire's assets either got control or got controlled, used, rarely all at the same time. “Hopefully I'm not like that, as Lilly said I'm easily handled. Pray continue.”

She took a big swig of her pint. “Well, I stupidly allowed things to escalate somewhat... he was very good.” Ugh, I knew exactly what she meant.

“I know now that I was being railroaded by an expert seducer. He imbued me with all kinds of improbable virtues and I fell for it.”

But oh contraire, Claire’s virtues were extremely probable and five foot nine of them were right in front me. But I kept that facetious thought to myself for a change.

“Worse than that it turns out he had two other women involved in his schemes, conning all of us. We’re all suckers.” Her eyes conveyed a challenge. “You’re one of these manthings, tell me how much energy that takes?”

“No idea. I’m a very simple manthing, one lady at a time is fine for me and I’m far too lazy to try conning anyone out of anything. You’ve gone right off men now then.”

“I have already described what I would do. Frankly I was of that frame of mind before this present trouble.”

“Hmm, good job I’m wearing iron underpants. What’s the deal with the other two women, how did you find out?”

Her pint was running low. “One of them became suspicious when her business, a small string of tanning shops, was sold to another firm right out from under her. Dick had somehow forged her signature and all the paperwork effectively selling her shops to himself using another buyer’s money, then moved the paperwork rapidly on to the other buyer. Twice removed is difficult to fight. All of that happened in less than a fortnight before her accountant noticed and raised the alarm. She maintained her own accounts to save on expenses. Dick made sure she still had credit so that any changes wouldn’t be noticed until far too late. She lost her business and Dick had disappeared with the money from the sale. She used her personal funds to engage a detective agency which uncovered the other woman who’d had a similar experience and then traced him to me. He was in the process doing exactly the same thing with my business. He must’ve got wind of trouble heading his way because he skipped out only this morning. I almost heard the door slam. Buy me another pint.”

Crikey! An unpleasant fellow. “You’ve called the fuzz?”

She pushed her empty glass at me. “Naturally. The other two already had of course. I hope the police take it seriously now there’s a quorum. Pint. Please.”
Obeying her order, off to the bar I trotted to be faced with an aghast Lilly who whispered “I heard a lot of that. Why the hell is she telling you all this? You of all people, a total stranger?”

“Two more pints please Lil. Come on, you’ve been doing this job long enough to know that people in boozers spill the beans on all sorts of things.”

“She’s spilled an entire crate of 57s all over your arse. Don’t agree to anything, don’t get involved!” Sometimes Lilly can be a little bit protective.

“Lilly, this is my seventh pint, any personal involvement I had in mind has waned considerably and even more so after that Hitchcockian tale of woe.” She plonked the freshly filled glasses on the bar in disgust. With much exaggerated care and love of ale I maneuvered my body and, miraculously, two full pints back to our table.

The pub’s clientele was graduating from office people to locals. The elderly lady who could never understand why no-one enjoyed her little darling terrier running around chewing their trouser cuffs and her husband who stoically ignored the complaints; Gabrielle stopping off for a vodka before cheerfully going off to her amply rewarded nightly profession; Andre who drank large neat gins way too fast taking a break from his family’s restaurant. Quite a few pubs in the area developed a more intimate atmosphere once the balance swayed to local residents who have to put up with each other.

“Thanks. I’m leaving after this pint. I've said enough now.” Claire announced unexpectedly. Whether I was up for it or not, any form of reciprocity seemed unlikely, even buying a round. I had thought, hoped, there might be some more chitchat.

“You don’t have to leave,” I tried rather weakly, “is there any chance I can hear more of your story? It’s a corker.”

“A corker! No. It may have no ending for some time. Telling someone completely unattached has condensed it in my mind though, so I thank you for that. I hope I didn’t hurt you too much.”

I’d forgotten the slap. Unconsciously I rubbed my cheek and muttered something about no problem. I was already half way down the seventh pint and the room was beginning to visually unlock itself from my brain.

“To tell you the truth Claire, my horizontal hold is starting to blip so I’ll be off myself soon. Say listen, if you don’t feel safe going home tonight I have a comfortable sofa and spare blankets...” I could’ve promised not to try anything but I didn’t, kind of leaving it open just in case. There was still half a pint left in her glass when she stood up.

“No but thank you for the drinks.”

“Perhaps I could walk you home, wherever that is?” I tried to make it sound like a positive offer but it came out like a hopeless whiny plea. In the flick of my eye I caught Lilly making fingers-down-throat gestures.

“Again no. I live further west so I’ll get a cab.” Her expression changed to slight disgust as she looked down at me. “And for your information, the answer is not now, not ever. Not in any life.”

Ouch, I’d been put in my place. Odd, because I didn’t feel I deserved it. Claire looked at Lilly who looked back, then she smoothed her way out of the pub with several eyes much older than mine following every flowing motion. There was a tense few minutes under the gaze of the other regulars whom I ignored while I finished my drink – and Claire’s left over half, what the hell – and bobbed off to the gents.

I really don’t have a clue as to why I never asked Claire her surname, the name of her company, any damn contact details. Fool. Or maybe not, I guess she wouldn’t have told me.

As I emerged from the gents, Lilly was collecting glasses. “Not your night eh? Still, probably a good thing. There are times when I wish you were more careful. I daresay she’s gone off to disinfect herself.” Cheers Lil.

Well. That’s what pubs can be; places where the customers will suddenly decant their deepest feelings, their nightmares and personal problems into the open maws of total strangers. Catharsis in a pint jug.

We never saw Claire or heard about her again which is good because in the end I really didn’t care about her legal problems. Only once, weeks later, did we spend ten seconds pontificating on whether she and the other two ladies got their Dick stitched up, so to speak, but the potential for involvement in an unwanted scene keeps that evening buried in the past.

Anyway, after Claire left I actually felt a sense of relief and freedom. Seven and a half jugs was more than enough so I waved at Sam, gave Lilly a hug mumbling “see ya” and tottered off home on my own for once. On the way I became very aware of cool, empty space around me and when I got home still pissed, I stood in my bedroom doorway clutching the frame and looking at my bed for a minute knowing that if the night had been very different I would’ve hated our time together. And suppose something more had developed with Claire – or indeed, in retrospect, with any other weekend woman who’d shared my bed in the past? Lilly probably only stayed friends with me because like I said mates is fine for us, no sticky stuff. In fact I sort of know that I’m not really overly keen on emotionally intimate relationships. I know couples whose lives are chocker with complications and anyway, what’s the point in loving a person when in the end one of you gets old and dies leaving the other suffering a living death.

For once pleased with how that Friday turned out I decided to cool my jets for a few weeks and revel in my aloneness, which I do enjoy. I'm a very shallow person.