I’m leaning against the bar when she walks in.  I’ve just got home for Christmas and am in the function room, upstairs at this pub in town, where there are supposed to be some bands on.  She spots me, tosses her blonde hair back, and gives me a strange look.  It’s a look that says you’ve been away and now you’re back.  You’ve stayed away too long.  I’m pleased you’re back.  But I’ve managed quite nicely without you, thank you very much.  I would do it for another month or however long it takes.  But you’re back and, though I’m definitely still interested in your company, don’t get any ideas that this could be forever.  With that understanding, I’ll come over and say hello.  That’s what I was going to do anyway.

So I stand and sip my beer and she totters across the bar in her stilettos, in my direction.  She’s looking good tonight, that’s what I’m thinking.  Very good.  She’s wearing a pink fluffy bomber jacket which suits her pale, cheeks blushed to perfection, with a white top underneath, and a black mini.

“Evening Aaron,” she says.  “How’s it going?  I thought you might be back tonight.”

“Evening Cindy.  Pretty good.  Fancy a drink?  Vodka and coke?”

“Don’t mind if I do.  I’m impressed you remembered my tipple.”

“How could I forget?”

She walks up to me and I lean over and kiss her cheek.  It feels as soft and tender as it did in the summer, though with the lingering freshness of a cold December night to its touch.  I turn and get the barman’s attention and order a vodka and coke for her and another beer for me.  It’s brought to me in a couple of seconds.

“There you go,” I say.

“Cheers.”

She takes a drink of her vodka and looks at me in the eye. 

“So what have you been up to,” she says.  “In the Smoke?”

“This and that,” I say.  “It’s pretty good.  Job’s boring as hell, of course.  But I make up for it.”

“I can imagine.  Where are you living?”

“Earls Court.  Near Gloucester Road.  Got a bedsit.”

“Sounds all right.  It’s good round there.”

“Do you know it?”

“I might have visited on the odd occasion.”

She gives me a dirty smile.  I love that smile.  I saw it a few times in the summer before I went, and especially before my ex, Sharon found out about us.  She’s had her moments, has Cindy George.  And I love it.

As we’re talking, a band starts to play, which drowns out the conversation.   We look at each other and laugh.  I wouldn’t mind if they were any good.  But they sound like a bunch of hippy musos.  She’s thinking the same thing.

“Shall we move on?” she says.

“Suits me,” I say.  “These are a bit rubbish.”

“Come on then.”

She finishes her vodka and I drink the rest of my pint.  Then she turns and leads the way out of the bar, down the stairs, and into the night.  She puts her arm in mine as we walk down the street. 

“Where do you want to go?” she asks.

“Don’t mind.  Red Lion?”

“Go on then.”

We head up the main street and down to the pub.  I push open the door.  The warmth of a vibrant bar in wintertime comes at us, a welcome respite from the chill.  There’s a coal fire burning in the corner, a reminder of many a past holiday season.  It’s busy in here, groups hanging round the bar.  The jukebox is loud, playing a Christmassy song that has been on everywhere over the last few weeks.  It feels like a link between my life in London and the one here.  It tells me that I’m home.

We ease our way through and manage to find a gap at the bar where we can squeeze in.

“Same again?” I say

“Go on then.”

She looks at me and smiles again, the same one as before.  Except, this time, there’s a look in her eyes, a warmth, a knowing look.  It tells me that there’s still a connection, that there are still feelings there.  My departure to pastures new hasn’t killed everything.  

I lean over and kiss her again, quickly, and then I order the drinks.  They’re brought over in a few seconds.

“Shall we sit down?” she says.

“Why not?”

We leave the bar and push our way through.  There are some seats round a table in the corner.  She sits down and I sit next to her.

“I like this,” I say, touching her pink fluffy bomber jacket.  “It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it new?”

“Got it the other week.  It was a present.”

She has that smile on her face again.

“Sounds interesting.”

“It was.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment.

“Are you still seeing Sharon?” she says. It’s the elephant in the room.  It’s been broached at last.

“No,” I say.  “I finished with her.  In the end.”

“That’s good.”

“I thought so.”

“So I don’t have to get my boxing gloves out in case she turns up?”

“No.” I laugh.

“That’s good.”

“Not this time.”

She smiles and raises her eyebrows.  There was trouble in the summer, in the town’s only nightclub, Lux when Sharon found out I’d been seeing her.  It reminds me.  It’s on my to-do list for the next couple of days.  The reality is that I’ve not actually told Sharon that I’ve finished with her yet.  I thought there would be plenty of time for that over the next week or so. I suppose I’d better get on and do it if I want to keep Cindy on my side for a few Christmas treats and avoid any more shenanigans.

“I saw her the other week,” she says, laughing.  “I didn’t know you’d finished with her.”

“And?”

“It was in the wine bar.  We gave each other filthy looks and that was it.”  She laughs.

“Sounds fun,” I say.

“Oh, it’s lots of fun, Aaron.  It’s all a lot of fun.  You know that.”

I smile, lean over and kiss her.  I meant it just to be another quick one but it doesn’t stop at that, not where Cindy and I are concerned.  We sit for a minute or so and have a long kiss, my arm round her shoulder and my hand round her waist.

“We’ve not done that for a while,” she says when we stop for a moment.

“That’s true.”

“So, what about London?” she says.  “Are you seeing anyone there?”

I look at her and smile.  Do I tell her the truth?  Maybe half the truth would be all right.

“No one in particular,” I say.  “What about you?”

“No one in particular.”

“That’s all right then.”

She finishes her vodka.  I do the same with my beer.

“Fancy another?” I say.

“Go on then.”

“Better pop to the little boys’ room first.”

“I’ll be here when you get back.”

I get up and walk across the pub.  It’s even busier than before.  I reach the other side and push the door of the gents open.  I’ve got it to myself.  It always fascinates me.  “The law of inverted population in the bar versus gents ratio,” I call it in my most drunken moments.  When there are so many out there drinking beer after beer, how are the numbers in the gents so low in comparison?  I contemplate this as I go up to the urinal, unbutton my Levi’s, and get rid of the liquid I’ve been pouring into me over the last hour or so.

I also contemplate the position in which I find myself. I think back to the summer, departing town quickly when the job in London came along, leaving things up in the air, not knowing how things stood after all the trouble.  It was running round my head all afternoon on the train, wondering if I’d see her and what would happen if I did, hoping I didn’t run into Sharon on the way.  It looks like I’ve dodged that bullet so far.  I really need to get round to hers tomorrow and let her down as gently as I can.

I empty my bladder and fasten my jeans.  Then I go over to the sink, rinse my hands and head back into the cut and thrust of the bar.  I manage to get served quickly and I take the drinks back to the table.  There’s a boy standing there, talking to her.  He’s as skinny as a rake, with blonde hair that falls forward over his razor-sharp cheekbones.  She’s looking up at him and smiling, giggling from time to time at what he’s saying.  He spots me as I walk up, suddenly looks a little self-conscious, says his goodbyes, and is on his way across the pub.

“You took your time,” she says, as I put the drinks on the table and sit down.

“Did I?”

“Leaving me to get chatted up like that.”

“Yes, I know.  It was very remiss of me.”

“You need someone to keep you on your toes.”

“Is he a friend of yours?”  She looks at me and laughs.

“You could say that.  An old friend.  I’ve known him for ages.”

“That’s all right then.”

“Anyway, cheers.  Merry Christmas.”

She lifts her glass and we clink.  Then we have a drink, put the glasses on the table and kiss again.  I can see the boy out of the corner of my eye, looking in our direction.  It’s best not to ask any questions, I learnt that a very long time ago.  It really is the best policy.

We sit here for a while, eking out small details of each others’ lives since summer.  I probably reveal more than I should, though nothing overly serious.  She keeps her life close to her chest.  I wouldn’t have expected any less from her.

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, the bell rings for closing time.  We somehow managed to miss last orders.

“What now?” she says, finishing her vodka.

“You tell me.”

“Well, seeing as this place is closing, there’s only one option.  Looks like a night cap’s in order.”

“Twist my arm,” I say and start laughing.

“Come on then.”

We get up and make our way to the door.  When we’re outside, we head up the street towards the flat she shares with her friend.  The moon’s bright tonight and it’s a clear sky.  It shines on us as we go.  I smile to myself.  Did I expect this on the train home?  I don’t know.  Whatever, it looks like it could be an interesting Christmas.