She gave me a little smile. "I saw you come in," she replied "How did you manage to get served so quickly?"
"Influence," I replied. I waved my free hand expansively and glanced around. "I, er, just happen to own the place."
"Don't tell me," she laughed. "You're Pete Stringfellow '
She had a large face, with shoulder-length wavy hair streaked with blond. Her eyes, nose and lips were all extravagant, giving her an earthy appearance, but her shoulders, bare apart from the thin straps of her dress, were narrow and delicate. It wasn't really a dress, more like an under slip in a silken material that clung to her curves as if by static electricity.
"His son, actually," I said. "If you'll let me buy you a drink I could demonstrate how I did it."
"Thanks, but I'm all right. We're just leaving ' "That's life," I said, resignedly.
"We're going to a party. Well, it's not really a party. Just a few girls having a laugh, sort of thing." After a pause she added: You could always come to let the New Year in. '
It was tempting, but I heard myself saying: "Thanks all the same, but I'd probably spoil your evening."
"Yes, you probably would," she replied, smiling.
"Is this your local?" I asked, choosing my words carefully to avoid the oldest chat-up line in the world.
"No. First time I've ever been in. Is it yours?"
"Similar. My third time in about twenty years Probably my last, too." y One of her friends came out of the loo, retrieved a champagne glass with a cherry in it that she'd left on a table, and joined us. She had wild frizzy hair and spectacles with luminous green frames. "You're a dark horse, Jackie," she said. "So who's this you've been keeping a secret, hey?"
Jackie of the generous lips stared into my eyes with a pair that looked as if they'd been sculpted from porcelain and glass by a mad scientist.
Eyes like that are not just windows to the soul, they are an expression of the glory of creation — like the first buds of spring, or the Milky Way seen through a telescope. The lashes that framed them were long and heavily mascaraed, but they were all her own.
"Oh," she said, 'he's just an old friend. He's called, er, Hugo."
"Hello, Hugo," Green Specs said. "I don't suppose you've another friend for me, have you?"
I decided to play it strong and silent. I said: "No."
There was a crash and a scream from the other room, and we all turned to look. A youth came barging towards us, chased by several others, fighting their way through the crowd that was parting like the Red Sea.
They dragged him down and fists and feet started going in. The first youth's buddies rallied to his support with chairs and bottles and soon the air was filled with flying missiles and the screams of women.
Jackie's friends coming out of the ladies' came up against another bunch trying to get in, away from the violence. I pushed open the door to the gents' and said: "In here," propelling Green Specs and Jackie through it. I held it open until all the women were inside and followed them.
The blokes shaking the drops off were bemused by the sudden influx of talent into their sacrosanct space. "Come to help me, luv?" one of them said.
"Who do you think I am," a girl replied, "Tinkerbelle?"
I leaned on the door, holding it closed against the hammering on the other side. A toilet flushed and a big chap, about six-six, came out of one of the stalls, stuffing his shirt into his waistband. His first thought when he saw the women was that he'd been in the wrong toilets, and his expression of panic reduced us all to a mass fit of helpless giggling. Jackie fell shaking against me and I wrapped my arms around her and sobbed with laughter into her hair. I enjoyed that bit.
When the thunder of war had rolled away I took a tentative peek out, then pulled the door wide open. The place looked as if it had been hit by a pre-emptive strike by the Sandinistas. Every table and chair was overturned and people stood around dazed by the suddenness of it all.
Girls wept and boyfriends comforted them with cuddles and braggadocio.
Smoke pressed against the ceiling, as if from cannon fire, and the clock behind the bar showed one minute past midnight. We'd missed it.
A small crowd stooped around a figure sitting on the floor near the bar, so I walked over, feet crunching on broken glass, to see if assistance was required. It was the landlord, bleeding profusely from a head wound. There is a God, I thought.
"Got 'it by a can," a youth explained.
"Not light ale, I hope," I replied.
"No, it looked like Webster's to me." I was obviously in the presence of an aficionado.
A hand slipped into mine and I turned to find Jackie with me. "We're going," she said. "Our taxi's here. I just wanted to say goodnight.
And Happy New Year."
She tipped her head back and stood on tiptoe, for a kiss. I planted one smack on those gorgeous lips, like I'd wanted to do ever since I'd first met her, sometime last year. Her eyes were sparkling, literally a million fireflies whirling and spiralling in them in some ritual dance of passion. I pulled her closer and revelled in my newly acquired power over women. The floor was sparkling, too. I looked up and saw that we were standing under the globe of mirrors, which had been turned on for extra atmosphere.
"Happy New Year," I sighed, stealing an extra squeeze. "I'll come out with you. Where's your coat?"
"I haven't brought one."
"You'll freeze to death. And mind your feet on the glass." As we reached the door a pair of bobbies in flak jackets strolled in, big and intimidating. I winked and received a brief nod of recognition. In the car park I said: "It's Charlie, by the way. Hugo's identical twin."
"Hello, Charlie. And goodbye. I'm Jacqueline. Are you sure you won't come to this party?"
"No. I'd better not."
"Are you married?"
"No."
"But you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes."
"I bet she's rather special, isn't she?"
Her friends were squeezing themselves into the back of a white Granada.
"This is ours, Jackie," one of them called to her.
"Yes, she is," I said.
"Ah, well," she sighed.
Jackie was shivering with cold. My jacket was unzipped and I enfolded her in it as we kissed for the last time. Her lips parted ever so slightly before she took them away. The curve of her back, the silken material under my hands, and the smell of her reached parts of me that no fizzy lager ever did.
"Either put him down or bring him with you," Green Specs was saying. We disengaged reluctantly and Green Specs gave me a cherry brandy peck.
She was still holding the champagne glass. I reached out and took it from her.
"Jackie!" I called as she moved towards the taxi.
She turned back to me. "Be careful," I said, quietly. "There's some nasty people about."
"Are you a policeman?" she asked.
I stooped until my lips were next to her ear. "No," I whispered. "I'm a policewoman in disguise."
Her laugh was every bit as generous as the rest of her. "I thought so," she said. "They knew you."
"Listen," I went on. "If you ever come across a man called Darryl, run away, drop him, fast as you can. Understand?"
She looked concerned and nodded.
"And tell your friends."
"Darryl. Right. And you be careful, too, Charlie."
As the taxi drove away three faces turned in the back seat, pale in the street lights, and hands waved. I waved back and cursed myself for being fifty kinds of fool. There was a footfall beside me, and one of the PCs said: "Trust the CID to get all the perks."
"Life's a bitch," I said, planting the champagne glass in his gloved hand. "Here, have one on me."
Next morning I awoke with a hangover. At first I blamed the mono sodium glutamate in the Chinese, until I remembered the large gin and tonic I'd taken to bed with me. I've never done that before, and it didn't start out as a large one. It was just that some adjusting of quantities was required after the initial sip, and before I knew it the tumbler was full. Annabelle had left greetings on the ansa phone and I was missing her. The g and t was compensation.