Along with the house my wife and I had inherited was a fully stocked basement bar, and a bartender with strict instructions that I was never to know his name.

My dad died when I was 16, taking with him all the possibilities of the man I had yet to meet. His was a life cut short by his own hand, an early death from early drinking, years of light smoking and not enough exercise. My mother died 3 years later, from a broken heart. She had tried. I’ll give her that. She had given up drink completely after dad died. But it was too late by then. A lifetime of poor choices had stacked up on her, and it was only a matter of time before the whole wall of cards came crashing down. Neither of their parents were alive by then, so I was placed in care. Bounced from foster home to foster home, I grew up lonely. Never knowing what it was like to have a family. It was the same when I grew up, I worked, I fell in love and then married. She died five years later. Cancer this time. I’ve always thought it was a death by association, light smoking with dad, no exercise with mum and light drinking with both of them. The grief hit me hard, harder even than when I was 16. She was the only person I had really loved and felt loved back by. I still drank, though. A beer or two with dinner. A glass of wine on the weekend if I had no plans the following day. light smoking, I had quit years before, not really missing it. Exercise, I did barely enough. It was around this time I received a letter, not addressed to me, but to a gentleman whose name soundly like mine. It was from a solicitor who wished to discuss the inheritance of an estate in the countryside, left by an aunt or uncle I had never knowingly met. Curiosity got the better of me. As well as the lack of family I had never met. I was pretty sure that’s why I was chosen for thisFalsh. It didn’t take long to sell my small flat. With what was left from my wife, it was more than enough to buy a new house, if that was even needed. The estate was about an hour drive from my flat. Work was understanding, I had after all lost two people very close to me recently, so they gave me a weeks holiday. I drove my car through the quiet streets and into the countryside. Pass fields upon fields of golden wheat and bright green corn fields, dotted with red poppies. The last leg of my journey was down a dirt path, towards a new looking house. I pulled up to the door still wondering if I had the wrong address. I got out of the car and walked down the path towards the house. As I got closer to the door, a man stepped out. “Mr Thwaite-Hughes?” He asked “Yes, I suppose you’re the solicitor?” “Yes, I am, and no, not the solicitor, the solicitor is inside. My name is...” “Excuse me, I know.” I cut him off “I am instructed not to hear your name you said?” He smiled, “Quite right, sir. Shall we?” I followed him through the house, which was about 3 times the size of our old house. After a few minutes of walking in silence he opened a door and gestured to the man sat behind the desk in the room inside. We greeted each other, he was an older man, by the look of him he must have been the same age that my father would have been if he were alive, but with grey hair. He instructed me to take a seat, which I did. We talked for a while, him reading from bits of paper, me nodding and agreeing at appropriate points while my mind wandered. At the end of it, he handed me a few bits of paper, house deeds and a small sum of money, not much, but enough to keep me going for a few years. We talked a little more about taxes and other paperwork, I had never owned a home before, and the thought of owning one sent butterflies through my stomach, but in a good way. “I think that’s everything.” He said, “Oh, one more thing. Mr. Thwaite-Hughes,” he stopped, and looked to the door “come in.” The man that stepped in, was the same one that greeted me at the door. He smiled when he saw me looking at him “Remember, you never saw me.” I smiled back, and shook my head. “I didn’t.” Then with that, the two men stood up, and left. They showed me to my car and waved as I drove off towards my new life. When I arrived back in town I drove to the local newsagent. I bought a paper and a pint of milk, the newsagent had never been much of a talker, but he seemed more standoffish today. “Everything OK?” I asked “Oh yeah,” he said “Just not heard from you in a while, thought you’d moved or something.” “Nope, got a trip out. See you later.” I walked out of the shop, milk in one hand, paper in the other. As I walked down the street to my flat, I pulled the paper out, opened it to the jobs listings section and started reading. I was about halfway towards the bottom when I stopped reading, ripping the bottom half of the paper off into my other hand, in which I held the milk. I walked towards my car and opened the boot. After a few minutes of shuffling things around I found what I was looking for. I then made my way back to the newsagent. “I’m sorry about this, but I forgot something important. Would you mind terribly taking a look at this?” He raised an eyebrow at the piece of paper I had given him, “What is it?” He asked. “I don’t know, but I was told never to look.” He smiled, “I’ll take a look then. As you said, you were never to know.” I thanked him and walked out of the shop. I walked back to my car, opened the passenger side door and got in. I drove back to the country. As I walked through the front door it felt weird. Walking through the front door of a home I owned. I walked in the kitchen, to look for something to eat. I was getting on and I had skipped lunch, so I was quite hungry. I opened the fridge, not really knowing what to expect. I hadn’t lived in the house yet, and had no idea how long the food in it would last. I had barely opened the fridge when I heard a voice. “One egg or two, sir?” Again. As you may expect, the man that stood behind me was the same man that met me at the door, and the same man I had just left at the newsagents. “Two, please.” I replied He walked past me, into the fridge. Opened a carton of eggs, Crack one into a bowl “Bacon?” “Yes please.” “Coffee or tea?” “Uh, tea please.” He cracked another egg into the bowl, placed it on the counter, then walked over to the hob. Turned one of the rings on, then placed a pan onto it “Pretty much by the book then, sir?” “Yes, please. But with a bit of milk, please.” He smiled, as if to say “well, of course” turned another ring on on the hob, placed a pan of milk onto it, then filled a kettle, before placing that on the hob as well. He then pulled a bag of bacon from the fridge, opened it, and placed a few slices into the pan. I stood there watching him cook, not knowing what else to do. He had answered all my questions before I had even thought of them. I had barely even told him what I wanted. A few minutes later he guided me to the dining room with a full English breakfast was sat for me. I ate it quickly, not really tasting it. I was so hungry. When I finished I walked back into the kitchen, where the man was, he smiled when he saw me. “Remember, you never saw me.” I smiled back, and shook my head. “I didn’t.” As I walked down towards the basement, a voice shouted after me “Bottles on the left, mixers on the right.” I stopped, turned my head. “Bartender?” There was no reply, I shrugged and walked on. I found the stairs and went down them. The basement was exactly as described. A basement bar, you would expect to find at the light end of a bad neighbourhood. The bar itself was a U shape, at the bottom of the U stood a man. “Whiskey, neat” I said He smiled, and placed a full whiskey on the bar, “You know my name, right?” I shook my head “No. I was never to know.” “Good.” He said “because it’s not your business.” I picked the whiskey up and drank it in one. He filled it straight away “Another?” “Yes, please.” I replied He filled the glass, then picked it up, he walked towards me and handed me the glass “Here you go.” I took the glass from him, “Bartender.” “Yep.” He replied I then smashed the glass into his face. “My name is Jack.” I said “now you can die.” I then reached into my pocket, for the gun I had bought on my car journey, with the money I had received, lifted it towards the man in front of me and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through his head and into the wall behind him, and as his body fell to the floor, I couldn’t help but smile.

Along with the house my wife and I had inherited was a fully stocked basement bar, and a bartender with strict instructions that I was never to know his name.

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