The rain had stopped, but Frith Street still glistened like something half-drowned. It was a silent, foggy, lonely night in London, but inside the King's Hideaway, the world was a different story. A group of young suits stood near the window, ties already loosened, their laughter too loud in the way of people trying to outrun tomorrow morning. An older woman sat alone in the corner booth, a half-finished crossword folded beside her gin, watching the room with the patience of someone who had seen every story in this place at least twice. The barman moved between the taps with mechanical grace, pulling pints without looking, at the back, a group of girl made full use of a karaoke setup.

Màiri walked in, giving the barman a shy wave and looked for her date without luck; she arrived first. Easy girl... you are just too punctual a lady! yer date will be here, she thought, reassured herself, as she took a booth and ordered a simple pint of beer. Now idling, she produce her pocket mirror and made sure her speckles properly concealed her red pupils; fifth time she checked that since leaving home.

Too punctual, too old, too weird, too... Her mind drifted, nerves eating her up, until:

"Oh! Hey! Over here!" She called, a little too loud.