Read Online The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene by David Carter - Free Book Online Page B

black hair, good teeth, slim with a pretty face, and Gringo had a feeling he might have seen her before.
       ‘You work in Dryden’s, don’t you?’ she said.
       ‘Yeah, office manager.’
       ‘Emberdy’s, me.’
       ‘Eh?’
       ‘MBD’s, Mitchell, Barrett and Deaver, Accountants. Everyone calls them Emberdy’s. I’m a trainee accountant.’
       ‘Yeah, right,’ said Gringo. ‘I thought I’d seen you before.’
       Her employer occupied the whole of the floor beneath Dryden’s. She picked up a beer mat and tapped it nervously on the bar. There was still no sign of the barman.
       Gringo said: ‘Don’t mind me asking, but are you British?’
       That put her on the defensive, and who could blame her?
       ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
       ‘No, nothing really, I just wondered about your background, that’s all.’
       ‘Are you racist or something?’
       ‘No, certainly not, look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
       There was an awkward silence that was probably only a few seconds but seemed much longer.
       ‘I’m a British Asian if you must know.’
       ‘I see. I thought you might have been an overseas student or something.’
       ‘Nope, my fulltime student days are well and truly behind me, born and bred in Birmingham, but I hope without the accent.’
       They shared a nervous laugh.
       ‘You don’t have an accent at all. You have a lovely voice.’
       She smiled, displaying those bright white teeth.
       ‘Former Portuguese colony in India, that’s where my grandparents came from, if you’re that interested.’
       ‘Goa?’ he said.
       She smiled again.
       ‘Yes. How did you know?’
       ‘Not so many to choose from,’ and as he said that he was wondering what a person from Goa was called. A Goan, a Goanna, a Goer maybe, but perhaps not, and he stifled another laugh.
       ‘I’m Maria by the way. Maria Almeida.’
       ‘Gringo Greene. Pleased to meet you,’ and he raised his glass and toasted her.
       ‘I’m with my mate,’ and she beckoned behind her.
       Gringo glanced round and sitting there, before the clouded window that bore the old brewery logo, before it had been taken over by the Danes, on the long bench seat that ran the length of the bar, sat a red headed girl in a red two-piece suit. She was sitting with her legs crossed, and her skirt was shorter than it should have been
       ‘That’s Vicky. She works at Emberdy’s too.’
       Right on cue Vicky sensed her moment and performed a silly circular wave.
       ‘Hi, Vicky,’ said Gringo, ever willing to be introduced to new talent.
       ‘Where’s this lazy barman?’ said Maria, as she leant across the bar, and then glanced back across at Gringo when she thought he wasn’t looking. She liked his thick black hair, though she wasn’t so sure about the muzzy, but you couldn’t have everything. He was okay. He was, as her mother used to say, just your type . At that moment the barman came back grumping about incompatible pipes.
       ‘Two white wines please,’ she sang, still managing a smile. ’Can I get you a drink, Gringo?’
       ‘Thanks, but no, I’m waiting for my mate.’
       ‘Another night maybe?’
       ‘I might be in here tomorrow night, around 7.30.’
       ‘That’s funny because I might be in here too.’
       ‘Well if you are, you might like to buy me a drink.’
       ‘Well if I am I just might do that,’ she said, grinning and collecting her change.
       At that moment Paul strode into the bar. His mere presence alerted Maria Almeida and her mate too. Paul had that effect on women. He was six feet six and built like a mosquito, sunken chest, exploding unkempt black hair, and glasses that looked as if they’d been hewn from the bases of brown beer bottles. Tall, dark and handsome, well two out of three can’t be bad.
       ‘See ya, Gringo,’ she said, and she collected the wines