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That’s the voice that came into my mind.
His voice.
Some dreams are worthdyingfor.
The question was…
Were mine?
Chapter Four
Itturnedouttobe a busy night at Regency, considering it started as a dead zone. The regulars were drinking hard, chatting into the early hours, and even Eliza was sneaking glances at her watch, clearly wishing everyone would fuck off so we could close up the bar.
Hans had already left with Frederick several hours before Max and the crew waved their goodbyes and stumbled out with boyish cheers.
“Thank God for that,” Eliza said once she’d locked the door behind them. “I thought we were going to be here until breakfast.”
We cleared up the empty glasses together, loaded up the washer and got to wiping the bar clean. She was on the opposite side to me, working hard when I cleared my throat and chanced a conversation. She knew the member accounts a lot better than I did.
“Hans seems an interesting guy. What does he do for a living?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No,” she said. “His membership application had nothing on it beside the essentials.”
I stopped wiping the bar.
“Really? How did he get approved, then?”
The application process was normally rigorous, I knew that much. The criteria for acceptance here was high.
“He’s an associate of Frederick’s. Frederick went to management and they accepted Hans without question.”
“I guess maybe Hans is a client of Frederick’s?”
“Well done, Sherlock,” she laughed. One of the few times I’d seen humour from her.
Frederick was one of the top accountants in the country. He worked for the elite at levels that barely anyone knew about. Eliza had told me that right from my first shift. He was one of the most prestigious members, from a very prestigious group, and was to be treated with utmost respect and consideration.
The bar was archaic and all of the members were wealthy, but Frederick was a prize amongst the rich of the country, no doubt integral to them maintaining their already huge financial estates.
Eliza seemed to take pity on my curiosity as I carried on working.
“Hans moved back to London recently, I believe, from the countryside over by Wales. Quite a rural gentleman.”
“Really? Where from?”
“Herefordshire, actually. Like you. Who knows, maybe you ran into him in the corner shop, and didn’t notice him.” She huffed out a laugh. “Scrap that, you’d have definitely noticed him.”
I stopped moving, staring at her with the bar cloth in my hand.
“Herefordshire? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where from exactly?”
