An Old Pub Near the Angel Read Free Page A

do?’
    ‘God knows. Don’t even know where he is.’ He looked at me. ‘He’s a bloody drop out I think. One of the neighbours thinks she saw him up west a couple of weeks ago. Hair down to his ankles she said. Fits the description anyway. His mother wants me to look for him.’ Joe laughed bitterly. ‘Where would I look for him?’
    ‘I don’t know, there’s places you could look for him.’
    ‘Would you look for him?’
    ‘I wouldn’t.’
    ‘Course you’re the same as him. Are you in advertising?’
    ‘Jesus. Not me Joe.’
    He shook his head trying to suss it all out. ‘No, can’t reckon you at all. You a pop singer for God’s sake.’
    ‘Think I’d be in here bevying?’
    ‘Of course, of course. Scotch? Footballer that’s what you are. Think you’re Georgie Best. Yeah.’
    ‘Wrong again.’
    ‘What’s wrong with all you bastards Jock. Just can’t understand it any.’ He went silent and noticing the barman hanging about, called the same again.
    ‘Listen I went through the war and detested nearly every minute of it. All those bastard officers. Walking over the top of us and poncing around shouting orders at you. Christ it was bad. I never bore anybody with details about it like some do. I mean I . . .’ Freddie was standing waiting for payment.
    ‘Listen Jock,’ Joe collected the change, ‘listen Jock here’s us having a drink together, I’m forty-nine and what are you? Twenty-four or something?’ I nodded.
    ‘I mean we’re quite enjoying the chat aren’t we? But we could come to blows any minute. Let’s face it.’
    ‘I know what you mean Joe.’
    ‘You don’t know what I mean son.’
    I nodded slowly. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
    He snapped his fingers. ‘A student.’
    ‘No not me Joe.’
    ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ his eyes twinkling out with something deeper, he poked his forefinger into my chest. ‘Tell me what I’m talking about son.’
    ‘The age gap. Generation gap that’s all.’ I sat back nearly falling from the stool.
    ‘Look at you just now son. Just about fell off the bloody stool there. What’s wrong? Can’t you hold your drink?’
    I smiled contemptuously, ‘What does it matter.’
    ‘Shouldn’t drink if you can’t stomach it son.’ He laughed, ‘that’s the trouble with you bastards, think you’re men cause you’re old enough to go into a pub.’
    ‘Listen man I’m twenty-five and divorced. Don’t talk to me like your wee boy or something.’
    ‘Listen man. Man, Man, Man. Why do you say man all the time.’
    ‘Same reason you say son I suppose.’
    ‘Don’t give me that Jock. Freddie!’
    The barman walked over.
    ‘Same again and one for yourself.’
    ‘It’s my round man.’
    Joe pulled a face. ‘I’m buying.’
    ‘It’s my turn.’
    ‘What you talking about. Turn. I’m buying, OK!’
    ‘What’s wrong Joe, does it make you feel good to do all the buying or something. Superior, do you feel superior is this it?’
    ‘Pooo.’
    I shook my head. When Freddie returned with the drinks I immediately ordered the same again with beer as chasers.
    Joe smiled, not wholly sarcastic.
    ‘You’re all right Jock. Drunk but all right.’
    Christ this fellow was getting on my nerves.
    ‘Who’s bloody drunk man.’ I drank half of the whisky to prove it.
    ‘D’you like the printing game?’ I asked blinking as the drink hit my toes.
    ‘Money for old rope.’
    ‘Are you a printer?’ Christ my stomach.
    ‘No labourer.’
    ‘Machine minder?’
    ‘Yeah. Ah it’s not bad. Good money. Strong union.’
    The whisky was becoming harder to get down. I stepped down from the stool very deliberate in my movements.
    ‘Second on the left,’ said Joe pointing to a door. I nodded and set off. Christ it was difficult to negotiate a clear round. Have to calm down with the drink man. Don’t let him needle me into getting pished. I pushed the lavatory door open. One old timer stood peeing, one hand supporting him against the wall. A