The Shadow Knows

by Kenneth Rosen

  *Cambridge*

  The clock on the wall opposite the bar had large Roman numerals and as he watched the thin metal hands advance toward closing time he realized that the usual sound of people talking was slowly but significantly increasing in volume. Debbie had just come down after putting young Toby to bed and when she stopped to talk he shared his observation with her.

  “You’re absolutely right, of course,” she agreed, her laugh as infectious as always. “When Chris and I took charge of this place six years ago it was one of the first things we had to get used to. The later it gets the more people drink and the more they drink the noisier it gets in here. Maybe alcohol dulls the hearing – it’s supposed to inhibit all kinds of things, isn’t it? Oh, by the way, you and Talya are coming for dinner on Sunday, aren’t you? Between seven-thirty and eight okay for you?”

  “Sure, we’ll be there. Chris already reminded me.”

  He watched her move off to help Chris behind the bar and he wondered how an American from Maine had ended up in a pub on the edge of the British Fens. He made a mental note to ask her at dinner and as he let the sounds of the place flow over him he felt content, lucky to have met good people and to have found a good place to relax. Having gotten the offer as he did was probably just a matter of chance – he could have been contacted almost anywhere – but he was glad this was how it had worked out. Time to think things through and a suitable ambiance in which to do so. He decided on a final pint for the evening and he went to the bar to order it.