We stopped at a pub at about eight that evening and had a bar snack. As Oliver was driving, he had an orange juice and bitter lemon, or a 'St Clements' as Oliver called it. I had a diet cola.
The pub was moderately busy and we sat at a table near the edge of the bar. A pretty young girl had just entered the bar and sat on a stool and ordered a drink. We could hear the barman ask her for identity to make sure she was over eighteen. She was, and he served her the vodka and lime she had asked for. She kept looking around as if searching for someone, and she kept looking at her watch as if whoever she was waiting for was late.
We had almost finished our drinks, when the door burst open and a tall, thickset man lurched in, letting the door slam behind him. "I want a whishky, a double whishky" he slurred. The barman tried to explain that as the man was obviously already drunk, he couldn't serve him. "Whash wrong? My money not good enough?" he demanded and thumped the table when the barman again tried to explain that as he was already intoxicated he was legally obliged to refuse to serve him.
The drunk stood, as if perplexed, and looked around the bar area. He spotted the pretty girl sitting alone on a stool at the bar, a few feet from him. "What d'you charge darling? If he won't give me what I want," he tossed his head in the direction of the barman, "you can have my money instead." He stumbled towards her and put his hand out to stroke the girl's face. She pulled away, looking scared.
The man's hand touched her mouth as she pulled away. "Got a lovely mouth," he leered. "How mush to make me happy?"
Oliver had seen and heard enough. He moved quickly towards the man, grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the young girl. "I think you'd better leave," he said quietly, but with authority, to the man. The man shrugged Oliver's hand off him.
"She's on the game. Sh'wouldn't be here on her own if she weren't. Aren't you dear?" he tried to touch her again, but he slipped and fell onto the floor. She scooted off her stool and ran to the ladies, tears already streaming down her face. I followed her. She was sobbing. I put my arms round her.
"He's drunk," I told her, not really knowing what to say, "But that is no excuse for what he said and tried to do. Are you waiting for someone?" She nodded, her sobs less frequent. "Is it your boyfriend?" Again she nodded. "Is he late?" And once again she nodded. "Let's get you a bit more presentable, shall we? And then I'll wait with you until he gets here. My friend will make sure you come to no harm."
"My boyfriend will kill him if he finds out what that man said. He's jealous as hell and has a temper. Make the man go away and tell the barman not to say anything. Will you?" she pleaded.
"Stay here and I see what my friend can do," I told her. "Don't come out until I come back. OK?" She nodded. Just as I started to leave I realised I needed to know both the girls name and her boyfriend's name, so I didn't speak to the wrong person.
"I'm Penny. His name's Darren," she whispered, "he's not much taller than me and he has ginger hair. But don't call him ginger - he hates it." I went back to the bar.
The drunk was still there; still being belligerent and now threatening Oliver and anyone else who came near him with a broken glass. "I'm sure you're an intelligent fellow," Oliver said, trying to reason with the man. "Put the glass down and I'll get you a taxi to take you home. There's no harm done yet, so you're not in any trouble if you behave sensibly and go home now."
"Whatsh it to you? You fancy the bit of shkirt, is that it? I shaw her first. My money's as good as yours."
"She's not on the game," I interrupted. "She's waiting for her boyfriend and is very upset by your suggestions. My friend is right; there'll be no problems if you go home now." I didn't feel as confident in what I was saying as I thought I sounded. All I wanted was for him to go; wanted to avoid any trouble with Oliver, with Penny or her boyfriend, Darren.
At that moment the door opened and a ginger-haired lad walked in. "Has there been a girl, waiting for someone? Probably been here twenty minutes or so. I'm late," he asked. There was silence in the room.
"Are you Darren?" I asked and when he confirmed that was his name, I drew him aside so we were out of sight from the drunk.
"Penny's here," I told him, "but she's had a bit of an upset. She's waiting in the ladies until you arrived. Now I don't want you to get upset too, so I'll explain what has happened." I briefly explained but he was already getting angry.
"If he touched her I'll kill him. No one touches my Penny and gets away with it." I tried to soothe him, telling him it would only get him and Penny into trouble if he started anything. Penny was physically unharmed, so there was no reason to do anything rash. I led him to the entrance to the ladies and told him to wait while I fetched his girlfriend.
Penny started when I opened the door. She thought it might have been the drunk coming to find her. When I explained Darren was just outside, she rushed into his arms. "I didn't do anything. Honest I didn't," she sobbed. "This lady will tell you I didn't do anything. Did I?" she turned to me and pleaded.
"I've explained what happened to Darren, and yes, I can confirm you did absolutely nothing that you should be ashamed of. However, I think it might be advisable if you found somewhere else to spend the evening."
"No drunk is going to stop me drinking where I want to," Darren answered belligerently. "Come, Penny. We're going to sit at the bar like I told you to." He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.
When we returned to the bar, neither the drunk nor Oliver could be seen.
"Call an ambulance," I heard Oliver order the barman. I then saw him leaning over the drunk who was on the floor.
"What happened?" I asked, and then added: "Are you hurt Oliver?" It was strange but I had had no thought that Oliver was in any danger until I saw him on the floor. I had full confidence in his ability to handle the situation calmly and safely. But he was now kneeling on the floor and I had become nervous that something unexpected had happened.
"I don't know," Oliver started to explain. "One minute he was waving the glass at me, the next he started to lunge for me and then he collapsed unconscious to the floor. I don't think he has banged his head, at least not in here. I think he has cut his hand on the glass. There is some blood; not a lot so I don't think it is serious." Oliver freed the man's tongue and put him into the recovery position. "He seems to be breathing OK."
Darren and Penny were staring at the scene. "Serves him right," Darren said. "He's lucky I didn't give him a right kicking for trying to touch my girl." He turned to Penny: "Come on. We're not staying here. We'll go to the Duck and Whistle."
"The police are on their way," the barman told them. "I think you should stay until they arrive. They might want to talk to Penny."
"Tough shit. She hasn't done anything and neither have I. And we might not go to the Duck and Whistle, so don't send them there to look for us." And with that he yanked Penny's arm and dragged her out of the pub.
"I don't think he was too keen to see the police," the barman laughed. "Anyway, we all saw what happened. No one touched him. There wasn't anything they could tell the police that we can't."
The paramedics arrived a few minutes later, almost immediately followed by the police. The barman told his story which was corroborated by Oliver and myself. The man was loaded into the ambulance and taken to hospital.
The policemen asked a few more questions, decided that no crime had been committed and left.
The barman offered us drinks on the house, which we declined as we were about to leave and Oliver was driving. It was enough excitement for the evening and we made our way back to Oliver's home and to bed.