Blacklight Blue by Peter May Page B

if not comfort, then perhaps oblivion. A painful journey, on which he seemed reluctant to take the first step. And so he continued to stare at it, fighting to keep conflicting and unpleasant thoughts from his mind.
    ‘It’ll evaporate before you drink it.’
    He looked up to see the only other customer regarding him with a quizzical smile. Until now he had paid her no attention. But looking for the first time, he saw that she was attractive. Not in a pretty way, but with a strong jawline and well-defined cheekbones. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and she had an unusually small mouth with full lips. Until she smiled. It was a smile that split her face.
    Long, silky brown hair was pulled back from her face and piled up loosely, untidily, behind her head. She was a woman well past the first flush of youth. Enzo thought she could be around forty, tall and lean. But she dressed younger. A short, black leather jacket, jeans and sneakers, and not a trace of make-up. Which was unusual for a woman of her age. She was either supremely self-confident or simply didn’t care.
    Her skin was tanned, as if she had just spent time somewhere in the sun, and examining her hands he saw that they were strong and elegant, with unpolished nails cut short.
    ‘Maybe that’s what I’m waiting for.’
    ‘Why would you do that?’
    ‘If I drink it, I’ll only order another.’
    He held her gaze for a moment, then returned it to his drink. He reached for the water jug, poured in a little water to release the flavour locked into it by the distiller, then filled his mouth to let it slip slowly over his throat. The aromatic flavour of it filled his nostrils, and its warmth burned all the way down into his chest. It felt good, but there was a long way to go before he would find the solace he sought.
    ‘You know, it’s funny…’
    He looked up, surprised to find her still watching him. He had almost forgotten her already. ‘What is?’
    ‘It’s not often that I find myself alone in a bar, and not being pestered by some man.’
    ‘You should make the most of it, then. Some man might come in at any moment and try to pick you up.’
    She gave a small shrug of resignation. It seemed that Enzo was not going to be the one to try. ‘I guess maybe I’m getting to an age where men just stop noticing me.’
    Enzo found a smile from somewhere. ‘They’d have to be pretty blind.’ He took another mouthful of whisky. ‘Don’t be offended. It’s not you. It’s me.’
    She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Gay?’
    Which made him laugh unexpectedly. ‘No. It’s just…I have other things on my mind.’
    ‘A problem shared is a problem halved.’
    ‘Two swallows don’t make a summer.’
    For a moment, her forehead creased in a frown. And then she saw what the game was and a smiled snuck across her lips. ‘Two minds are better than one.’
    ‘An empty barrel makes the most noise.’
    ‘Wise men agree, and fools seldom differ.’
    But now his smile was strained. The game was already losing its power to distract, puerile and pointless. He had come here to get drunk. He drained his glass and ordered another.
    She watched in silence as the barman refilled his glass, then she ordered another glass of champagne for herself. When the barman had poured it, bubbling to the rim of her glass, she lifted it and moved along the bar, slipping on to the stool next to Enzo. On another day, in other circumstances, he might have felt a tiny frisson of sexual excitement. Instead he felt that she was encroaching on his space, and he might have resented that. Except that she didn’t give him the time.
    ‘Why don’t I buy you that one? I’ll do the talking, and maybe that’ll take your mind off whatever’s worrying you.’
    He was surprised for the second time by the smile that found his lips. ‘Never fails.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Every time I go into a bar on my own, I get pestered by some woman.’
    It was her turn to laugh. ‘Then I should introduce myself. That way