The barmaid placed two bottles on the bar and Seraphim reached for his wallet to pay. I was his guest, he said, he would be treating me. I drank the beer quickly. On the stool beside us, a man with grey hair was playing with the hair of a young woman, her arms hung around his neck. She was dark skinned and looked barely eighteen. A few seats down a bald man was trying to kiss the neck of another woman – she looked familiar, but I couldn’t think where I’d seen her. Seraphim ordered another couple of beers. This time the barmaid placed in front of us bowls of sliced apples, olives and crisps. This time he didn’t pay. We were drinking the beers at top speed and the barmaid kept replacing the empty ones.
On a table behind us, two beautiful women sat in the laps of two very old men. ‘Those are lovely Romanian girls,’ Seraphim said. ‘Not too expensive.’
The beer had started to go to my head. So far we’d spoken about nothing much. He had told me a bit more about his cars. A Porsche 911, in mint condition. ‘There’s magic in that car,’ he said. ‘You should come with me some time, we’ll go up to the mountains. You’ll see its power.’ He told me about his Mercedes SL 300 Gullwing. ‘One of the first sports cars of the post-war era. Silver. Doors open up like the wings of a bird. You can fly in that thing.’ He preferred not to drive that one around too much, he said. He kept it in tip-top condition in his garage, took it out for a spin once a week, to keep it alive and breathing.
Even slightly pissed, I had been struck by how shabby his clothes were. His T-shirt was old and worn, as were his jeans; his hair barely brushed, it flicked out in various directions. With all that money I wondered why he wore clothes that looked twenty years old.
The beers kept coming, and I was drinking more slowly now. Two Filipino women approached us: one younger, heavily made up; the other, slightly older woman, hardly wore a speck of makeup and her skin shone in the dim lights. Seraphim was well acquainted with them. There was a lot of small talk.
‘When shall I take you two out in my car? Seraphim had said.
The older woman smiled politely but didn’t answered. The younger one brushed her hair away from her forehead and placed both of her hands between her knees. These small movements told me that the women were not comfortable. I downed another beer. The two women disappeared into the crowd.
Seraphim ordered couscous from one of the barmaids.
‘Couscous?’ I said, and he winked.
In a short while she returned carrying a ceramic pot on a silver tray. She placed the pot and two small plates and cutlery on the bar.
‘Have a look at this, my friend,’ said Seraphim. ‘In season. Organic. You must love them.’
He opened the pot and dug into it with a fork – pulling out a tiny poached songbird. Steam wound in ribbons out of the pot, mixing with the cigarette smoke already in the air. He delicately placed a couple on my plate and a couple on his. Then he threw one into his mouth, crunching into its bones with relish.
‘Go for it,’ he said. Mouth full. ‘You must like them. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t. Didn’t you have them when you were a boy?’ He spat on the counter.
I told him that I did. And that I knew that it was illegal to eat these birds.
‘I’m not too hungry,’ I said. ‘I had a huge meal before I came out. Still bloated.’
‘Looks like it might be harder for me to get you on my side than I thought.’ Seraphim swallowed the last bit of bird and used the nail of his pinkie finger to remove meat from his tooth. I felt like gagging.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘These songbirds – how shall I put it? They are on your plate courtesy of me. You can say that I’m keeping the tradition alive. But I catch them in their thousands. Another pair of hands would double my income. It’s just a few traps a week during the hunting seasons.’ He paused, considering me. ‘After all, how did you think I lived so well?’
I didn’t respond.
‘I see your dapper clothes and your good looks are your cover-ups. But you’re struggling, my friend – don’t think I can’t see that. I saw it in your eyes in the grocery store. It was right there, slashed across your face like a huge scar.’
Once again, I said nothing. But Seraphim had sussed me out. It was his mighty skill.
‘You don’t have to give me an answer now. Think about it, and I’ll call you in a week. If you say yes, we’ll start straight away. I need an apprentice. Someone I can trust. You’ve always been trustworthy, haven’t you?’ He grinned broadly for a moment and then pushed the plate towards me. ‘If nothing else, at least try one. It’ll take you right back to your childhood.’