Jenny stared at the bubbles clinging to the lime in her gin and tonic. Lunchtime back at The King’s Wark, this time she was sitting at the bar, her back to the diners and the door. Tiny shards of sunshine cut through the windows as the same barmaid from last night poured pints of Italian lager for two guys in suits. Jenny looked at the receipt she got with her drink, ‘You Were Served Today By Sam’. She’d already Googled the name and the pub, tracked her down on LinkedIn. Sam Evans. She made a mental note to follow up on that later. When Sam was done serving, Jenny stared at her watch and sighed dramatically. Sam turned and Jenny tapped her watch.

‘Men, eh? He’s half an hour late.’

The barmaid made a sympathetic face. She looked prettier up close, freckles and dark eyes. Jenny could see why guys might drink in here because of her.

Jenny twirled the stirrer in her drink, swished the lime around. ‘You got a boyfriend?’

Sam looked across the pub for something else to do but then took a step closer anyway. ‘Yeah.’

‘So you know, right?’

‘I suppose so.’

Jenny followed her gaze around the place. The barman who served her last night wasn’t in, so she took a punt.

‘I haven’t been here before,’ she said. ‘Nice place.’

Sam shrugged. ‘It’s OK.’

‘Different if you’re working.’

That got a tiny smile. ‘Yeah.’130

‘Actually, a friend recommended it, I think he drinks here quite a lot. You might know him?’

She got a shrug for that.

‘Liam Hook.’

She watched for a reaction but Sam shook her head.

‘Tall, dark and handsome,’ Jenny said, forcing a laugh at her own cliché. ‘Forty years old. Comes in after work sometimes, so I guess he’d be wearing a suit.’

Another shake of the head. ‘Get a lot of guys in here like that.’

When Jenny was twenty, forty-year-old men were invisible to her, especially if they wore a suit. But her experience wasn’t universal, she knew younger women who went for the sugar-daddy thing, the flattery of a guy with experience and cash in his pocket.

She tried to read Sam’s body language. She looked very at home behind the bar.

‘Fuck this guy,’ she said to Sam, touching her watch. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s missing.’

She downed her drink and got up, the barmaid watching as she walked squinting into the daylight outside.