Chapter 1

Like most January evenings it was cold and drizzly. The bar of the Ancient Mariner provided a welcome contrast. Being a Friday it was crowded, warm and noisy. Christopher Cooper, Barry Thompson and Geoffrey Weedon were propping up the bar and enjoying their customary end of week beer. All three worked in the City for an aircraft reinsurance company, had done so for five or six years, and were close friends. Barry and Geoffrey were both members of Richmond Hockey Club, Barry also playing regularly for Middlesex. Christopher was a rugby player and was the 'uncouth lout' of the trio. He was huge, standing at six foot six and weighing rather over eighteen stone, all of which was bone and muscle. He was a lock forward and played for Blackheath.

There was some shop talk to start worth but that quickly developed into other areas and their usual good-natured teasing of one another. None of them was in a hurry to go home.

In one corner of the bar, in Christopher's line of sight, there was a table of three girls. One of the two facing the trio of young men was a pretty blonde. Sitting beside her was, at first glance, a plain girl with mousy hair but it became apparent that she was the life and soul of the party and her very vivacity made her attractive. The third girl had her back to the three young men but she had a mane of dark red hair that fell almost to her shoulders.

A young man wandered up to their table and started to talk to them. It quickly became apparent that he was not wanted and he moved off again. Christopher watched him idly. It appeared he was on his own.

"On the prowl," thought Christopher amusedly. "Bad luck, chum!"

None of the three friends was in any hurry and, although the first welcome pint went down quite quickly, the next two were consumed at a much more leisurely pace. They never had more than three, one round each. They were in the middle of their second round when the prowler had been dismissed by the girls.

Barry was holding forth about the disappointing performance of the England cricket team in South Africa.

"They've been intimidated by the fast bowlers," he declared. "OK, I'm the last person who would want to face Steyn when he's got his tail up but neither of our openers or the middle order batsman, with one honourable exception, have shown the guts to dig in, wait till he starts to tire and then go for him when they've got their eye in."

"Easier said than done," replied Geoffrey. "When he gets tired they bring on somebody else and they've got strength in depth."

"Rubbish..."

So it went on, each pontificating but not reaching an agreed solution to England's woes.

"More beer," said Christopher which was a welcome suggestion and also served to change the topic of conversation.

They were about a third of the way down that pint when Lothario decided to chance his arm again.

"Look out, guys," said Christopher softly but forcibly. "We may have trouble."

He nodded towards the girls' table. His friends turned. "That guy tried his luck before and was sent away. Now he's tight and trying it again."

Barry grinned. "The man mountain to lead?"

Christopher nodded.

The girls' reaction was much the same as before but the leader said her piece.

"We told you before. We're not interested in you so get lost."

"I coul'n't do tha'. Not with hair like yours, darlin'." He stroked the redhead's hair.

"Go away!" she hissed and pushed at his hand but he kept it there.

Christopher, backed by his friends, moved forward.

"I don't think your advances are welcome," he said quietly.

"Wha' bizness 's it of yours?"

"You're making a nuisance of yourself. These young ladies have told you to go away several times and you have taken no notice of them. Furthermore you're tight so now take some notice of me and leave."

"Fuck off!"

Christopher's reaction was immediate. The hand on the redhead's hair was grasped and twisted behind his back. Christopher's other hand grabbed his collar and all but lifted him off the ground.

"Out!" he hissed.

"Fuck off!"

"Give the needle a shove," said Christopher as he jerked Lothario's arm a little higher and headed him towards the door.

"I'll report you to the police."

"Do that! Drunk and disorderly, sexual harassment. Five witnesses AND I haven't even hit you. I wish you luck."

Another customer opened the door and Christopher shoved Lothario out.

"I wouldn't hang about," he warned.

"Fuck you!"

"Wide choice of words," said Christopher with a grin to everyone in general. There was appreciative laughter.

The three of them moved back to the girls.

"OK now?" Christopher asked.

They all nodded shyly.

"Say thank you to the nice man, Tina," ordered the mousy one.

The redhead stood.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you very much."

She was tiny, five foot plus or minus with huge blue eyes, a little turned-up nose and very kissable and smiley lips. Christopher towered over her.

He smiled at her. "My pleasure," he said. "Obnoxious prat."

Tina chuckled and Christopher was relieved that she seemed to have got over the incident.

"'Obnoxious'," she said. "Educated word. 'Prat' slang but derived from a sixteenth century word meaning buttocks."

Christopher laughed. "Perhaps I ought to have kicked his prat for good measure."

It was Tina's turn to laugh.

Christopher looked round for a chair, found one and pulled it over.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Tina asked.

Christopher shook his head. "No thanks. I've got to drive home and I'm over the limit already. I'm going to find something to eat so that should act as blotting paper but I certainly don't want to risk anymore."

"How far have you got to go?"

"Only to Blackheath. It's a nice place to live and handy for the rugger club."

"Ah!" she replied. "That tallies. With your size you looked like a rugger player but you don't look as though you've got a broken nose."

"Not yet."

They both grinned.

"Where do you live?"

Tina looked down for a moment. "Bromley."

"Ooh! Smart suburbia."

Tina shook her head. "Bromley by Bow. East End."

"Not very salubrious," thought Christopher.

"How are you getting home?"

"Tube and walk a couple of hundred yards."

"And you do that every day?"

She nodded.

"Not much fun on dark evenings."