Albert by Rebecca Jarrett
The old man sat at the bar, nursing a whisky.
“Take it easy there, Albert. It’s only just half four; you should pace yourself.”
Albert smiled wryly at the grimacing barkeep. “I’m 81 years old and I fought in a war. I’ve served out Queen and this country. I think it’s well within my rights to have a drink or two.”
That barkeep shrugged, then turned back around to finish wiping down the glasses with a musty cloth.
The young man finishes his pint and pushes it toward the barkeep. “Cheers,” he calls over his shoulder- though he doesn’t bother to look back as he walks to the other end of the reception hall.
He is in his uniform, today. She likes a man in uniform, and he knows it. He uses it to his advantage.
“Hello, Matilda. What’s a young lass like yourself doing at such a boring reception?” Continue reading “Albert”