You're Welcome

Chapter 1

The pavement silently thuds beneath his feet, his head tucked down into his jacket and his hands are in tight fists in his jacket pockets in a vain attempt to keep them warm. He curses himself for not dressing warmer but it was hardly the first thing on his mind when he left, he just knew he had to get out for a while. The pale November sun bears no warmth and the wind picks up, whistling through the quiet street. The sky is dark and overcast, the clouds fat with water ready to pour down on the world. He stops, staring up at the pub in front of him, contemplating going inside as goosebumps roll over his flesh from the icy wind. 

Its on the corner of the street, a dull sign proclaiming its name to be 'The Cock and Bull'. The exterior is obviously old, its cracked and weather-beaten from the peeling paint around the windows to the faded varnish on the big wooden door, its brass handle scratched beyond polishing. The faded dirty net curtains in the windows tell him that the interior was bound to be in a similar state. A sandwich blackboard by the door rattles in the wind advertising 'Sky Sports Here All Day' and 'Burger and Pint For £5'. With a sigh, he nods to himself. A derelict like this was just what he was looking for. He pushes open the door and it creaks loudly in protest as he is greeted by a gust of warm air tainted by stale sweat and beer, the ancient smell of cigarettes ingrained in the furniture from the days before the public places smoking ban. 

There's a crack of a pool game being played, the door swings shut behind him and his trainers make a muffled rhythm across the floor to the bar. He passes a tall square archway which he can see leads to pool tables and there's a pleasant muttering of people talking and laughing. For all its ugliness on the outside it seems welcoming. All it needed was some money put into the place. The tables and booths are by the windows, they're varnished to look like ebony but they're scuffed and peeling showing the cheapness of the wood underneath. The booths are private looking, with high backs to separate them and the dark mock velvet purple cushions look relatively unscathed. 

Sam stands at the bar, taking in this assault on his senses. Various football team scarves and t shirts hang in an arrange of colours in frames on the wall behind the bar as well as old match tickets and programs. A large flat screen TV hangs in the corner on brackets, currently muted due to the match not starting for another while yet.  

Sam leans on the counter, holding his wallet in his hand as he waits to be served. Hes eventually greeted by the barman who was busy chatting up a couple of pretty girls on the otherside of the bar. He's in his early 20's, shortish blonde hair styled into soft waves with big chocolate drop eyes. Though he was slow to serve Sam, he soon makes up for it with his manners and makes polite conversation with Sam as gives him his Peroni, making sure that's all he wants before turning back to his captive audience. Sam just smiles and remembers that he too was like that at his age. Sam turns around and presses his back into the bar as he looks around some more. Someone is up at the jukebox and Sam takes a moment to listen to what is playing. He recognizes David Bowie's 'Life On Mars?' fading away and he smiles, sipping his lager. 

A bunch of lads are laughing and jibbing each other around a pool table, a gaggle of 40-something women chatting pleasantly among themselves, glasses of vodka and orange in front of them as Sam spies who he reckons to be their husbands up at the dart board. Another man is sat quietly reading the paper, a pint half drank in front of him and -. Sam stops abruptly as he sees in the furthest corner sat in a booth is a young woman, 23 at most he guesses. She's staring out the window, the grey sunlight soft on her pale skin. She's stirring a clear fizzy drink absentmindedly with a straw and beads of perspiration slip down the glass as she lifts it to take a sip, leaving a wet ring on the tabletop. 

Sam swallows hard as he drinks her image in. Sam's eyes wonder over her body, he can see her quite clearly from his angle at the bar so the tabletop doesn't block his view. She's wearing a skin tight black dress that reaches just above her knees with long sleeves that stop at her slim wrists. It has a deep neckline, it barely covers her shoulders and shows her beautiful collarbone perfectly. Somehow feeling his gaze, she turns to look at him looking almost bored and her eyes suddenly widen as their eyes meet for just a second before a rush of pink colours her cheeks and she turns away. Sam's jaw almost hits the ground. She's got big green eyes accentuated by the black kohl heavily drawn on. Her lips are a natural rosy pink with no sign of any lipstick or gloss and are full and inviting. Her skin is ivory pale, almost translucent. Her chocolate brown hair hangs in a glossy curtain around her shoulders and down her back with a slight wave to it.  She's curvaceous, her chest full and he follows the curve of her waist down to her toned legs crossed under the table. She has a pair of thick maroon tights and a pair of scuffed 12 hole Dr Marten boots, the laces hanging loose and untied. She toys with her drink, her fingers tapping on the table to the beat of the song. 

 Sad girl... Such an unusual attraction.

Sad girl... How come you look so hurt?

"You're not the only one to look at her like that today," Sam turns to the barman, raising an eyebrow at his statement. Sam shrugs, taking another sip of his drink to cover his embarrassment at being caught staring at that girl. The barman nods in her direction, pulling a Guinness from the tap as he looks at Sam.

"The lads at the pool table, one of them tried it with her, shit I tried it with her, both of us shot down in flames," He says with a chuckle and miming a plane crash with his hands, making a convincing explosion sound to go with it. Sam steals another glance at this her. She rejected the barman, who was a good looking guy and the guys around the pool table weren't so bad looking either. She was out of their league obviously, she was beautiful in the truest sense of the word but her sadness stole away from her looks. She looked like the saddest and loneliest person in the world. 

"I reckon she's just been dumped or someones died," The barman says discreetly and Sam half nods. Sam is wondering whether the pain was so obvious on his face a few months ago. 

He looks at her again. He's too old for her. He's nowhere near good-looking enough. She doesn't want to be bothered. He knows all this but... In a snap decision he buys another lager and whatever she's drinking. When she'd looked at him, she'd inadvertently set off Sam's curiosity. 

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," the barman says with a smirk as he hands over Sams change. Sam mutters a yeah and taking a breath, he picks up the drinks and crosses the room.