"It's pissing down Beauty you don't really want to go for a walk?"
Accompanied with a soft whine and a wagging tail, pleading black eyes stared back at Astor and said, 'please please, yes yes.' How could she refuse? Besides, the wind had been howling mercilessly at the French windows in the library, and even through the thick green velvet curtains the clattering was making it difficult to concentrate. 'I must have something done to those windows,' she thought, before putting her book down. She peeled herself off the soft blue sofa which elicited an excited bark from Beauty, who then proceeded to run out of the room, through the hallway, to wait eagerly by the front door. Astor dutifully followed.
Astor had found Beauty four months previously in an alleyway lying in a pool of blood, beaten and on the brink of death. When the RSPCA arrived, they told her the dog would be put down. With apparent regret the man had said, "veterinary medicine is expensive, especially for unclaimed dogs." Two months later Astor picked Beauty up from the vets and, to everyone's surprise the dog had made a speedy recovery; her two broken legs had healed without any complication, and the only signs of injuries sustained were from the sporadic patches of shorter hair that hadn't fully grown back.
Astor had expected Beauty to have emotional issues, she didn't know the dog's history. Although as a pedigree flat back retriever she assumed someone's unwanted pet. She quivered with anger every time she thought about whom had cruelly beaten her, but when she reminded herself that it was this that brought them together she couldn't help but smile.
Beauty turned out to be an exceptionally clever dog; when Astor first brought her home she ran directly to the kitchen and with great aplomb jumped up, delicately turned the key with her mouth and opened the door to the back garden, where she proceeded to unceremoniously mark it.
Astor threw on her navy Burberry mackintosh and her trusty walking boots, she decided to forego a hat; her hair needed washing anyway and she also quite enjoyed the exhilarating feeling of being out in the rain. However, after twenty minutes the heavy rain turned torrential and even Beauty looked miserable, "shall we go see Fran and Jack?" Beauty wagged her tail in agreement. Five minutes later, Astor and Beauty walked into the Crown & Gate.
"Astor, how lovely to see you." She was immediately greeted by an avuncular man who ran out from behind the bar and gave her a great big hug completely disregarding her bedraggled state, before bending down to greet Beauty who jumped up on his knees and licked his face, "I'm pleased to see you too girl," he said while stroking her head. "She looks like a brand new dog!"
"It's amazing isn't it? And she's such a special dog she seems to understand everything. I still can't even begin to imagine how she was left like that. Anyway how are you? How's business? Is Fran around?"
"Can't complain. Fran's staying with her family, been a couple of weeks and is away for another, I'm bit lonely but all the better for seeing you. Come, what will you have? Whisky?"
"Please."
"I don't know why I ask." He dashed back behind the back of bar and then shortly returned with an 18 year old bottle of Talisker. He poured her a sizeable glass and left the bottle under the counter for her convenience.
Astor sat down at the bar, where Beauty immediately curled at her feet; it felt like home. She'd been coming to this pub since she was fifteen, she was now twenty eight. Jack was the closest thing she had to a father even when he found out she was underage he didn't ban her outright; she had been a difficult teen and he recognised she would just go somewhere else and cause trouble.
Jack and Fran were childless, Astor was parentless and although they didn't play at being a family, over the years they had developed a genuine friendship. Jack had even given Astor away at her wedding and then a year later held a party for her divorce. Astor loved their down to earth nature, they were good people and they provided a needed constant in her life. Even in his seventies Jack had the vigour of a young man, he was bright and alert as she watched him chat to a few patrons, she caught his eye and smiled.
Jack smiled back at Astor, fifty years as a publican and he had never met another character like her. Her resilience in spite of everything that life threw at her; the murder of her parents when she was twelve, the suspect guardianship of her uncle, her emancipation at sixteen, her struggle with her vast wealth and independence; they jokingly called them the wilderness years, when Astor was just as likely to be found in an East End squat or on a yacht in the south of France, and then her disastrous marriage. Jack was not a violent man but as he told Fran, "If I ever see Karl I will kick his head in." Fran, who was from a family of proud Spanish Gypsies, had sweetly replied to her husband's unusual show of aggression "not if I see him first." Astor was the strongest person he knew, and she has not let experience ruin her innocence.
"That's a nice dog you have there, flat back retriever, right?"
There was an accusatory note to the voice and something mephitic to his breath. Astor turned coolly towards the man and gave him a quick appraisal; Dark black hair framed a sallow gaunt face, black beady eyes pierced through her, he must have been about 6'2 and she could see he was lanky even under his long thick black coat. The overall impression was that of a Victorian undertaker and he was the most sinister man Astor had ever seen.
"Yes." Astor gave a purposefully curt answer, she did not want to converse with the man.
"How old is she?"
"About 3."
"She's a rescue?"
"Yes."
"And how long have you had her for?"
"Four months."
A wicked smile crossed the man's face that chilled Astor to the core.
"Why the interest in my dog?"
"I'm just interested. Is that a problem?"
"You tell me? Your interest doesn't seem too friendly, so if there is something you want I would rather you just got to it."
Vincent glared at the insolent little girl, no one spoke to him like that, as a predator he usually found his prey to be instinctually intimidated, he sensed her unease but she wasn't frightened. He hadn't expected resistance, no one ever stood in his way. 'Play nice, you're in public,' he told himself.
"I would like to buy your dog- please." The please came out as a hiss.
"Excuse me," she looked at him with incredulity.
"You heard me."
"Is there a problem?" Jack had come over when he saw the exchange becoming heated.
"No problem." She smiled directly at Jack before turning to the man with contemptuous distain, "Our conversation IS over," and upon turning back to Jack she gave him a dismissive wave of the hand. She knew it was unnecessarily rude as she did it but his unpleasantness seemed to provoke her.
'Who the hell does she think she is?' "Our conversation is not over you are going to give me that dog and I will pay you in kind." A discernable note of anger seethed through his veiled attempt at civility.
"I think you better leave." Jack said and started to move towards the end of the bar.
"Hold on Jack. I don't know who you are and you expect me to sell you my dog? Why don't you fuck off to whatever cess pit you crawled out off!" She spat with such venom that there was a sudden hush in the pub followed by stares and whispers.
Vincent turned on his heels and was out of the pub in flash, a second longer and he would have snapped her neck and to hell with the consequences. 'No, I'll get them when they leave. Her impudence deserves a more unusual punishment than a quick death, haven't had a good hunt in ages.' He chuckled to himself then mused to the wind "so much for feeling bored" as he slipped into the shadows of the street.
"What a creep! Have you ever seen him before?"
"No, and I don't think it was too clever to be so rude to him, he seemed unstable."
"You're right. I couldn't help myself, I don't react well to intimidation well, and that he wanted Beauty." She looked at the sleeping dog with tender concern, "I feel very protective towards her, and there was something truly nefarious about his interest, I shudder to think what," She sighed and took a large swig of her drink.
"Maybe he thought she would be the perfect accessory for his look." A deep cheerful voice interjected.
"Hello Matthias. You saw that?" Jack greeted the man who had stridden over and promptly sat next to Astor.
"It was hard to miss!"
"I wanted to introduce you two anyway, Astor-Matthias-Matthias-Astor."
"Hello."
"My pleasure." He said with a warm smile.
Matthias had been sitting in the corner reading when he felt Vincent come in. Surprisingly his old rival had failed to notice him, the dog had been the complete focus of his attention.
Matthias had also noticed the girl with dog come in; it was hard not to. She was strikingly beautiful, about 5'8, svelte and she moved with a lithe grace, her long curly brown hair fell to her waist, a contrast to her pale skin. She had a refined faced, Slavic cheek bones, a large characteristic nose that complemented her full sensuous lips, but it was her light hazel eyes that captivated him, they had a mesmerising darker outer ring and they sparkled with vitality and intelligence. He knew this must be the woman that the old man talked so fondly about, which was confirmed by their greeting.
Matthias had just moved back to London and had been coming to this pub for the last few weeks, whiling away his evenings in the simple conviviality that most pubs had either exchanged or surrendered to bland homogeneity. The thought, that circumstances had brought Vincent to this random space and time, after not meeting in over sixty years, filled him with fatalistic trepidation. He hadn't taken much heed of the dog but his curiosity was definitely now piqued.
