A tale came my way, the same carrier pigeon as before.
Bella had dined at a restaurant, in the company of friends. She went outside, she was drunk. Opposite the restaurant was a pub, a lively drinkers pub.
A man, an older man, a heavy drinking man with failed marriages behind him, saw Bella standing on the street. He downed his drink, left the pub, crossed the road in his worn trainers, and t-shirt, and asked Bella to join him.
She carried on drinking a plenty then went home with this man.
A gaggle of nodding heads could not believe Bella had hooked up with one such as him. Nor could The Older Man himself.
She told me he wasn’t good-looking, but he was a funny man. My quick-witted daughter was amused by jokes such as this: I used to own a paper shop, but it blew away.
She practically moved in with Older Man, her drinking companion, who provided alcohol to flow.
Here is a tale from her own mouth. The pair of them, him and she, had drunk so much alcohol one sunny afternoon, outside a popular pub, that they fell asleep on the cobbles. The landlord asked them to move. How proud that made me feel.
Their relationship became argumentative, she flirted with other men, it was true love for him. One night, Older Man left her in the pub and went home. Bella knocked on his door, he would not let her in.
What sort of man shuts the door on his drunk girlfriend, in the middle of the night?
Bella told her sister, she had slept on a bench in the nearby park, unable to make her way home.
From Park Lane to Park Bench.