In his workshop, John carefully prepared his paint spray gun. A current of air chilled the garage, and the hairs on his neck tingled. He glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting to see someone and laughed at his imagination when he saw the door swinging on its hinges.
On completing the paintwork on the Duchess, he stood back and admired his work. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had not eaten since breakfast.
After showering, he sat in his kitchen smoking and blowing smoke rings. The lit end came close to his fingers as he stubbed the cigarette and dropped it in the bin. He stared at a blank television screen for a few minutes. "Sod it," he muttered, picked up the telephone, and dialled Angela's number.
She answered before it rang twice.
John could hear her breathing. "Fancy dinner in the pub? And I know what you're thinking."
"I thought we agreed not to meet until you did your thing with the brothers."
"I know, but I want to see you. Can you make it for seven?"
She ended the call with, "Don't be late."
The line went dead as he started to say something.
He yawned, closed his eyes and told himself it was only dinner.
***
Angela, wearing a dark brown suit with a white blouse, stood in her bathroom, ran a comb through her hair, touched up her makeup and smiled.
As she strolled into the Lion and Unicorn, she spotted John sitting in a corner seat. She smiled at his black jeans, white shirt and sports jacket with leather patches on its elbows.
He watched her as she walked towards him, her back straight and looking like a million dollars.
She shook her head. "I see you dressed for the occasion."
"This is a pub, not the Dorchester."
She seated herself close to him. "Why do you want to see me?"
"I miss you."
"Well, you certainly know how to impress." her eyes drifted around the pub. The early diners were leaving, and those next to the bar continued drinking.
"It seems I'm in the stocks, but as you know, the food's good, and they serve a great pint. But I need the practice for relationships and romantic settings."
"You'll do for me. You're not a womaniser, and I know how you feel about me. But you have something men conveniently forget."
"And what's that?"
"Honesty. You tell it as it is, and men like you are like rocking horse shit. In short supply."
John laughed as he waved at Heather.
She arrived at their table in seconds. "The special is beef curry with rice, but he'll do chips if you prefer."
"Curry and chips? Your joking," said Angela.
"It's what the two lads over there wanted plus plenty of pints of lager," said Heather.
"Never seen them in here before," said John.
"The boss told me they're contractors working in the area. They've been in here every night for the past four days. Bit noisy and crude at times but generally no problem," said Heather.
"I'll have steak and chips with seasonal vegetables."
"Make that two," said Angela.
"Can I please have my steak well done?" asked John.
"Anything to drink?"
"The usual for me."
Angela paused before speaking. "I'll have a large G and T with no ice."
Five minutes later, Heather returned with their drinks.
"How's it going with the brothers," asked Angela.
John shrugged. "It's not for discussion. More to the point, if you don't know, you can't tell."
She smiled. "Point taken. Changing the subject, what have you been doing?"
"Working on my trains."
"How did you hurt your right arm?"
"Snagged it on a piece of metal."
"Didn't know making trains was dangerous."
Heather stood in front of them. "Two Aberdeen Angus steak dinners, one as the chef put it cremated."
John cleared a space on the table as Heather positioned their plates. "Enjoy."
They watched her return to behind the bar.
"We haven't any mustard," said Angela. "You start, and I'll go and get some."
"John sipped his beer.
At the bar. "Can I help," asked Heather.
"Could we have some English mustard, please?"
"No problem, I'll bring it over."
"I'll wait," said Angela. From behind, she felt someone's hand stroking her buttocks. She turned and faced an unshaven man in his late twenties. "Touch my arse again, and you'll need an ambulance."
A sickly drunken grin filled his face. His right hand rubbed his crotch. "What you need, darlin is a good servicing. I guarantee I can reach the parts no man has ever touched."
Angela moved forward and gave a sensual smile. With her eyes staring into his, she inched closer as if about to whisper in his ear. Out of his sightline, her right hand dropped, grabbed his testicles, squeezed hard and pulled. With her left hand, she shoved him backwards.
Customers at the bar moved swiftly out of the way. Panicking, a few dropped their beers, their glasses smashing as they struck the floor.
Clutching his goolies, the man screamed, "Kill the fucking bitch."
His friend went to help, but John smashed him in the kidneys. He shrieked and stumbled forward, his face striking the beer-sodden floor.
From the pub kitchen Tony, the owner, swinging a baseball bat, arrived. "Sorry, folks, but these two are leaving." John held the door open.
With the skill of a street fighter, Tony poked both men hard in the ribs. He lifted and threw them out with a firm hold on their collars. He laughed when both vomited over the pavement. "I'd run if I were you because I'll be washing the pavement in two minutes with a high-pressure hose."
As luck would have it, the darkening clouds discharged their load. In seconds the deluge washed the pavement clean.
"Are you alright, Angela?" asked John.
"Fine. Thanks for your help."
Tony held up his hand. "My apologies. I'll replace your meal, and the drinks are on the house."
John and Angela returned to their table while Tony assured those the show was over.
"You don't take prisoners," said John.
She smiled. "What's the point. The idiot will have to put his sex life on hold for at least a week. Well, until his balls stop aching."
Heather came and stood alongside them. "The boss asks, what would you like to drink?"
"Same again," said John.
"Another G and T please," said Angela.
With their meal over, she glanced at John, "Want to come back to my place?"
"You have such a way with words. Lead on. I'm all yours. But please don't hurt me."
As they left, John waved to Tony. They strolled into the night holding hands.
Two men cloaked in deep shadow watched them leave.
"Time to make a move," said one to the other.
Both men followed, concealed by the dark side of the street, until John and Angela entered a house. From the opposite side of the road, they watched as the ground floor lights operated and, a minute later, extinguished. When the upstairs curtains were drawn, they waited until the light went out before making their move. In a minute, they had the house number and the street name.