Morningstar Manor

On a Saturday night, the Lamb usually did brisk business, with many of the usual staff on duty at once, and perhaps a few extra hands here and there. Drink was flowing, food flying from the kitchen, and the noise level of talk and laughter and music was like a warm wall when you came walking in through the front door, out of the crisp early autumn evening air.

Among the many patrons, there were:

• Andras Toth, at the bar with a pint of cider and a basket of fries, watching people and chatting briefly to anybody he knew.
• Cindy Papadopoulos, in a booth in an out-of-the-way corner, drinking a nice red wine and reading a book that she was glaring at quite angrily. She didn't have her wheelchair, just crutches. This had been a good day, and she'd decided to dare going down the pub without wheels.
• Ricky Sands, with a pint of Guiness, monopolising the jukebox even though hardly anybody paid much attention to the music.
• Chandika Malhortra, at a little table in the middle of the bustle, drinking malibu lemonades with a friend, resting high-heeled feet after an afternoon's and early evening's shopping.
• Urquhart, with a half-empty glass of really good single malt (and there had, of course, only ever been the customary finger's breadth), throwing darts at the dartboard near the door. He wasn't playing against anybody, but kept score in his head.
• Sibyl Gray, with a pint of shandy, leaning against a pillar and wondering what her room-mate's 'boyfriend' (if you could apply that word to a well-weathered man in his mid-fifties) was up to, now in particularly, and ultimately as well.

Kris had almost a full day of hair styling scheduled, but he also had laundry to do, having had a bit of a mishap with a mug of coffee and the trailing edge of his comforter. So into the laundry and he began to stuff the machine, the skin of his back crawling as it had been all morning.

He glanced round.

Nobody there.

It crawled again so he glanced round.

Still nobody there.

###

Guy hadn't heard anything back from the Manor - but then it was only a couple of days and his application had been speculative. He still had his fingers crossed though and he opened the window and took a breath of air untainted by disinfectant. At least the cab no longer stank of vomit. He was heartily sick of picking up drunks.

Even though he was a little preoccupied he still spotted the raised hand of a prospective fare and pulled over with a grin.

###

Ben ticked another item off on his list and smiled at Kelsey as she passed with a tray of mugs of coffee from the Auberge. He had found the shop fitters worked harder and more willingly if they were supervised and if the coffee kept coming. It would be his turn to go in an hour.

"Is one of those mine?" he asked Kelsey and she grinned and nodded to a mug on it's own in a corner.

Tea.

But somehow significant, Ben thought as he took it, of certain aspects of his life. Yes, the mug alone in the corner fitted.

Ben had arrived too late last night to shop for groceries, but that was still on his to do list. Far more important was getting his little living space organised and going over the details of what he wanted where with Kelsey, for whom he was already developing a profound admiration. But he wasn't going to be able to do any of that if he didn't get at least something for breakfast and since Kelsey had recommended the Auberge there he was eating a toasted cheese sandwich and sipping the first cup out of a pot of very good tea.

The sky was filled with racing clouds and the sun was bright between the rain showers. He looked out at the planters and the trees and the neatly trimmed grass around the base of the war memorial and sighed with satisfaction. He thought he might like it here.