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‘Er, the sign says open.’ In faded jeans and a black sweater under his jacket, he looks warily at me.
I give him a look. ‘As the manager, I decide when we’re open. And I’m telling you that, as of now, we’re closed.’
‘Could I just—’ he starts.
‘No, you could not. Look, just leave, will you? I really don’t have time for arrogant lawyers.’ Pushing past him, I go to the door and hold it open for him.
He stands there, blinking, as suddenly I notice tears in his eyes. Taken aback that this horrible person has feelings, I falter, but only for a moment. After the way he behaved last week, why should I speak to him? I owe him nothing.
For a moment his eyes meet mine, before turning to the Eye of Horus tattoo on my wrist, shock registering in his eyes as he stares at it.
Suddenly self-conscious, I pull my sleeve over it, nodding towards the street.
But he refuses to take the hint – not that it was a hint, more like a breeze block. Pulling out a chair, he sits down.
Clasping his hands together, he seems to be in the grip of some kind of torment. ‘I’m sorry,’ he keeps muttering. ‘I’m sorry.I’m so sorry…’
Watching him for a moment, I wonder if this is an act. If he’s trying to wear me down before spinning me another line on behalf of his frigging client. But he doesn’t move.
‘Come on. You need to get out of here,’ I say, slightly less angrily.
But instead of getting up, he leans forward, resting his head in his hands. Alarm bells start going off, just as a couple walks in.
‘I’m terribly sorry, but we’re closed,’ I say apologetically. ‘We’ve had a leak in the kitchen.’ It’s a lie, but I can only deal with one situation at a time. ‘We’ll open again in about half an hour.’
As they walk out, I turn the sign to closed and lock the door, then go over to the bar for a glass of water before taking it over to Mr Arsehole Lawyer. ‘Here.’ I pass it to him. ‘Drink this.’
He lifts his head and, as he drinks, I take in the pallor of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes. ‘Are you OK?’
Shaking his head slowly, he doesn’t speak.
Frowning, I try again. ‘Would you like me to call someone?’
‘Not really.’ As he looks at me, there’s no sign of the arrogance of last time he was here. Instead, there’s anguish in his eyes. ‘There isn’t anyone.’
I’m taken aback. Surely people like him always have reels of well-heeled hooray friends, in red trousers and such like. ‘OK,’ I say cautiously. ‘Can I do anything?’
‘I just need a minute.’ He seems to be wrestling with himself. As he sits there, I study him more closely. His distress seems genuine. Sensing me watching him, eventually he looks up. ‘I meant what I said. I understand if you don’t believe me, but I did actually come here to apologise. The client… I can’t represent her. Not after what she’s done to your room.’
My eyes widen, his turnaround leaving me gobsmacked. ‘Have you told her?’
‘Not yet.’ He pauses. ‘Someone else will be taking on the case. But she should pay you in full.’ He shrugs. ‘After the trouble she’s caused, it’s only right.’
As I listen, uneasiness comes over me. But it isn’t so much what he’s said. It’s the look in his eyes. It’s as though I’ve seen it before.
‘I’m sorry.’ He tries to get himself together. ‘It’s been a weird few days.’ A shadow crosses his face. ‘I think it’s catching up with me.’
‘As long as you’re OK?’ My eyes meet his.
‘I think so.’ His eyes turn to my wrist. ‘Your tattoo…’
‘What about it?’ I’m suspicious again.
‘It struck me as unusual, I suppose.’ Getting up, he still looks shaken as he stands there. ‘I know this is out of the blue – and I know I have no right to ask you this… And of course, you can say no, but… can I see you again?’ As he speaks, a look of uncertainty crosses his face. ‘Maybe we could go out somewhere? A kind of apology – and to show you I’m not as horrible as you must think I am.’
For the second time, I’m taken aback. Only this time, by his humility, the desperation in his eyes, by the fact that for reasons I can’t explain, far from being wary, I actually find myselfwanting to. Plus no-one should suffer like this alone. ‘OK,’ I say cautiously.
The anguished look fades slightly. ‘I’m not sure I deserve it, but thank you. I’m Forrest, by the way.’
