𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 | 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊 [Collins]

Chapter 17 - Ice and Fire

(revised)

London was so quiet at night, only my laughter was breaking the heavy silence that reigned at that time, the result of the blackout instituted by the government. Joseph was making me laugh a lot with his silly jokes, and the couple of pints of beer I had had after my shift were not helping. I had met Joseph at my second workplace. He was a bartender where I was a waitress and on my first night, he had offered to walk me home since the dark streets were not really the best place for a woman to be alone. He had done so ever since, always walking with me even if it wasn't on his way home. The twenty-minute walk always went quickly with him by my side for we had no difficulty finding things to talk about. Our respective families, our life, but mostly the clients of the night.

"That guy, the one who drank five whiskies, he was such an arsehole!" he changed topic.

"Moustache guy?" I asked, having a slight idea of who he was talking about.

"Yeah, that pretentious cunt," he added.

"He was an arsehole, yes. He grabbed my ass when I served someone next to him, can you believe that?" I said angrily.

"No, really? I'm so glad Billy beat the shit out of him then. Fucker!" he exclaimed. "Oh wait, that's why he did it, isn't it?" he then realised.

"Probably. I don't know. It wasn't the only thing he did to piss Billy anyway..."

"You better not piss Billy! Even more when you're in his pub!" he observed, boxing the air to mimic our boss, making me laugh again.

"Well, Lady, here you go!" he said as he stopped on the sidewalk opposite of my house. "Have a good night, beautiful."

"Thank you Jo'! Have a good night too," I replied and hugged him goodbye.

Joseph replied to my embrace before stepping back, an anxious look on his face.

"There is someone sitting on your front steps," he whispered, his eyes fixed on something behind me.

I turned around to discover a dark figure standing up and slowly going down the stairs. Only the incandescent end of his cigarette shed a weak light on his face, but I wasn't able to recognise him. His tall athletic frame reminded me of someone I knew really well but it was probably just my imagination playing a trick on me. I was a bit frightened as the man kept coming closer but he stopped on the other side of the road, threw his cigarette to the ground and stuffed his hands in his pockets, just waiting there, carrying himself in a posture that seemed so familiar. Then, I recognised a RAF uniform, causing my heart to skip a beat. I was not dreaming, my intuition was not failing me, it was him. I crossed the road and threw my arms around his neck as I pronounced his name. His sweet smell brought tears to my eyes, but I forced myself not to cry. Andrew did not reply to my touch, his eyes avoiding me, his hands staying away from my body, in his pockets.

"Who's your friend?" he finally said. No greetings, no sweet names, nothing. Just a question.

I made a step back, feeling that he did not want my affection but not knowing why.

"This is Joseph, my colleague," I informed him. "Joseph, this is my boyfriend, Andrew."

"Nice to finally meet you Andrew! Freya talks about you all the time," he replied cheerfully as he extended a hand towards my boyfriend, but Andrew did not move and refused to reply to his friendly introduction.

"Thank you for walking her home," he said bitterly, wrapping his arm around my waist as if to prove something. "You should go, it's rather late. She's safe with me now."