I shrug. 'What would you suggest?'
He gives me a wink. 'I know just the thing,' he says with a sage nod, grabbing a pint glass and pulling from one of the taps.
‘Beer?' I ask.
'Aye, this is a local beer,' he says. 'A good pale ale. You’ll find none of that Yankie swill here! You get that down you, lad.'
'How much?' I ask, taking out my card.
He waves a hand. 'I’ll tack it on your room bill.'
I glance at the clock. It’s two in the afternoon. When in Rome, I guess.
I take the others their drinks, and we sit in silence. I sip my pale ale and find I kind of like it, even though it's not cold like a Budweiser or a Coors would be back in the States. It has a deep, mellow flavor.
'Nice,' I mutter, glancing at the barman andnodding.
He gives me a mock salute and goes back to polishing the bar woodwork with a grubby-looking towel.
We sit in the bar for a few more minutes. The guys by the fire are still talking low. They haven’t spoken to us or the barman. They’ve barely even looked up from their drinks.
The bell on the door rings and another man walks in. He greets the barman like they know each other and asks for a pint.
'Usual, Douglas? Heard ’round the village you were given the boot.'
The man snorts. 'Aye. More than twenty years and it’s out the fucking door. Bloody bastards.'
The barman gives him a commiserating look. 'On the dole?'
I listen intently. The dole is welfare money for when you don’t have a job, I know that much. So he just got fired from somewhere local. I don’t know why that makes my ears prick up, but how many places could therebearound here? We're in the middle of freaking nowhere.
The man lets out a long breath. 'May have to be soon. Naught else at the minute, that’s for bloody certain. Nowhere else ’round here’ll take on a bloke in his sixties ’cept the loony bin.'
My gaze locks with Shade, who’s staring at the men with narrowed eyes. I shake my head at him a little, and he looks back at the fire, but he's listening. Mav is too.
The man gets his pint and sits at a table close to us. I wonder how we’re going to find a way to talk to this guy, but after a minute, he looks over at us and gives a nod.
'Don’t usually see young lads in here at this time on a Wednesday afternoon,’ he remarks casually.
'We’re here from the States,' I say.
'Oh aye? Sightseeing, are ya?'
'Something like that,' I say. 'I couldn’t help overhearing… Did you lose your job?'
‘Aye,’ the man snarls. 'Cunts.'
'What happened?' I ask.
His eyes narrow and I shrug.
'Sorry,’ I say, putting my hands up. ‘Not my business. Just never been to the UK before. Been wanting to talk to a local.'
He sits back and regards me before gesturing at the chair opposite him.
I stand and move to his table with my drink, hoping my friends talk amongst themselves for a few minutes.
I sit.
