Moriarty's Musician

The Stand, Part 5

Annabelle's nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke that greeted her as she entered the Glenny Pub. She lingered in the doorway, her eyes scanning the large, dimly-lit room, a mix of men and women filling every table and muffled conversation stirring between them. Taking a steadying breath, she pulled her heavy suitcase over the worn wood entryway.

"Close the door, lass. You're chilling us out, ya are."

Annabelle looked over at the tall, older man frowning at her from behind the bar that extended across the back wall. But the bartender's eyes weren't the only ones thrown her way. Annabelle's gaze flickered across the crowded pub as a hush descended over the place.

"Yeah, shut the bloody door," another voice rang out. A lanky, bearded man smiled from his barstool as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Unless you want to come over here and warm a man's bones. Don't be shy," he said as he adjusted the crotch of his pants and repositioned himself on the stool. "You can sit on my knee," he said with a laugh, patting his lap.

Annabelle cringed at the man's words and yanked the suitcase over the last rung of the entryway. She pushed the heavy wooden door shut and tried not to think of the many eyes watching her. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way to the bar. She went to the furthest stool from the leering man and sat down while the sound of conversation resumed in the pub.

The bartender wiped down a glass and motioned with his head. "What'll it be?"

Annabelle gave him a tentative smile. "Something hot. Do you have apple cider?"

The bartender shook his head. "This ain't no Buckingham Palace now." He waved his hand at the bottles of booze behind him. "That's all we got."

"Then tea perhaps?" she said, adjusting the violin case on her lap. "Water even?"

"Water? Ya come to a pub looking for water?" His lips curled slightly, and he nodded. "Yeah, we've got tea."

The wooden door creaked loudly as it opened, and Annabelle turned on the stool to see an older, stocky man dressed all in black coming into the pub. He made a loud, "Ahhh," sound and immediately pushed the door closed behind him. Once he removed his wide-brimmed hat, a grin settled over his features, his gaze sweeping over the occupants of the pub.

"Well, what fun shall we have tonight?" he bellowed from the doorway. A medley of bored, lacklustre responses came from the crowd, and he acknowledged each one with a cheerful nod as he carried on to the bar.

He went over to the man who offered Annabelle his lap and clapped him on the shoulder. "Donovan! Missed you on Sunday. How are you? How's Emily?"

When the man passed an uncomfortable hand over his beard, the gesture wasn't lost on the searching eyes of the priest. "Marriage problems again? I'm here, lad," the priest said, his head nodding. "Whenever you're ready, I'm all ears."

Annabelle tipped her head to the side as she looked between the priest and the man. Her mouth twitched with humor as Donovan glanced sheepishly at her, his face reddening.

"Nah, Father, we be fine," Donovan said as he reached for his ale and took a giant gulp before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Emily likes goin' to church with her mother is all." He kept his eyes on the glass.

"Oh, women often do," Father O'Rourke said with a chuckle. "Wonderful blessings, they are."

The bartender placed a cup and small teapot on the bar in front of Annabelle. When she looked up at him, he gave her a wink. "It'll only cost your lovely company," he said before turning his attention to the priest. "Happy day to ya, Father. What gossip have ya brought with ya?"