The Moving Wood

Inside the pub resembled something from the mid-eighties. The floor around the bar was wooden, and stained. There was a slight rise, with steps, to the right of the entrance as you walked in. Lucas joked that this must be where the VIPs sit. The floor on the steps and the rise was carpeted with a green, red and darker green abstract design which wouldn't look out of place covering the seats of some form of public transport. Behind the bar was a barman, tall and goateed. Infront of the bar was a man, head down, a half drank drink beside him. Foam dragged the inside of the glass, a small chaser which housed whisky sat beside the pint glass. Lucas thought that at 10am it was a little early to be drank into such a stooper. Although, having worked in bars near the red light district in Amsterdam he was used to seeing people in such states.

The man behind the bar took them in, not accustomed to strangers, unless they were relatives of one of his regulars. "Lost?" He asked.

"No we-"

"Yes." Isabella cut across Lucas. "We are looking for the footprint of Saint Patrick."

"The what?" The barman asked. His narrow eyes narrowed even more, into silts so tight you would think his eyes were closed.

"A site, in uh, Alan Wood." She said.

The barman regarded them for a moment, "Allenwood, you mean. Not Alan Wood." Then he topped off two drinks and vanished to whomever ordered them.

"You're a long way from Allenwood, Love." The man who Lucas thought was asleep on the bar said. Pulling his salt and peppered hair from his face he reached out a hand grabbed his drink and swallowed the remains in one large gulp. "Allenwood is the complete other side of the-" He burped then spoke with his eyes half opened, "I'd say you'd be a hour half away." The barman reappeared and the drunk held up a finger, the barman began pouring another drink, and the drunk swallowed the chaser down in one gulp.

"You's are a bit away from Allenwood." The barman said, looking at the glass as he tilt it. Then, "What are you having?" They ordered two pints of Guinness, and left the bar to find a place to sit, away from the drunk.

A fire blazed, and the two found seats near it. Outside the weather was grey and dull, and the pub seemed to be as grey and dull as the outside.

"No Wifi, and they probably don't do food, I don't see any menus." Isabella said. She took a small sip of her drink, leaving a foamy moustache on her upper lip. Lucas smiled, kissed her, bringing traces of the foam to his own lip. He wanted to compliment her, say something about not caring where he was, once he was with her. Instead he said nothing, tapped her glass with his and drank.

After several drinks, the lunch time crowd appeared. A sun began to establish itself in the sky and the rain retreated. It seemed like a completely different day. Drinks were being poured in healthy portions and the once dullen bar was sprung to life.

"Maybe someone can give us directions?" Isabella said. She was now drinking her Guinness with a splash of dilute juice. She done this after seeing an elderly lady order it. She much preferred the drink with the bitter bite taken out of it.

"I think we need a lift back to the hotel." She said to Lucas, her eyes reflecting with the dying flames of the fire.

Lucas, finishing his drink left for the bar to enquire about a taxi. There is a stumble in his step and a slur in his words. Isabella, watching the dying ambers, transfixed between thoughts, watching the fire burn, did not sense a man joining her.

"Hello." The man said and held out his hand. "Stephen, you can call me Gundy." He flashes a set of yellowed teeth.

"Gundy?" Isabella repeats back to him.