TWENTY-SEVEN
A player wearing a red and yellow jersey and shorts propelled a ball across a vibrantly green field and scored a goal as the crowd roared. Barbara looked up at the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above the bar.
“Arsenal versus Manchester United,” she said. She looked at Freddie. “Like old times, eh?” she said.
Freddie nodded. “Quite.”
“How long ago, Freddie?”
Freddie gave a shrug. “I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Has it been that long?”
Freddie looked fondly at Barbara. “Too long, love.”
A barmaid came up to the table. They were at The Pig and Whistle, a crowded English pub on Geary Boulevard in the Laurel District. Men and women with beer mugs in their hands were playing darts, watching the game and shouting orders at the bartender.
“What’s it gonna be then?” the b
