* * *
“George, is that what you’ve dragged me here for? To hear nonsense about being followed by a ghost or monster?”
“But Jennie, you don’t understand…” George said, hardly able to look her in the face, staring down at his hands clasped around his glass of beer.
“And somebody holding you back, not letting you move…You were always the same George, too nervous. Get a life!”
George raised his eyes. Jennie was as attractive as he remembered. Black hair, firm features, lovely body and as fierce and unforgiving as ever. He winced under the gaze of her contemptuous, blue eyes.
“That’s why things didn’t work out between us, George. You’ll never amount to anything until you face down your demons.”
“Wait a bit longer, Jennie…” George pleaded. “I’ll get another round.”
As he nervously stood up and made to walk to the bar, his foot caught on the foot of the table and he was pitched forward on to the floor, his nostrils sucking in the stale, fibrous smell of the shabby carpet.
“George! For God’s sake! Has the devil got you by the heels? You’re pathetic!”
As he picked himself up, he saw Jennie storming out and other beer-drinkers staring at him, one or two with rather curious, worried expressions. He sensed that black, shadowy figure nearby. He couldn’t see it, but it was there.