He is very tall, maybe 6ft 3, slim and almost bald. What hair there is is grey and kept short. He is dressed totally in black, slim black jeans with a v neck sweater and black shoes. No jewelery other than a silver chain with a large silver cross sitting perfectly in the v neck of his sweater. It is an intimidating look but not nearly as intimidating as his eyes. They too are black, or so dark that they seem black. They look completely dead. I am aware that he is alert and taking everything in, but there is absolutely no emotion, no sign of life at all in his eyes. He sends shivers down my spine, and not in a good way. I don’t remember ever being in the company of someone who frightens me, but this man does.

He says not one word to Angela. Slowly and deliberately he pulls out a chair from the other side of her table and lowers himself into it, never taking his eyes off her. He just sits there. Angela is clearly unnerved. I can see her mind working on what she should say. Unfortunately what she comes up with is

“These two lads are Andrew and Gordon. They come from fucking California”

I note that she doesn’t give us his name, and he now has a lot more information about us than I wanted him to have. But he doesn’t even look our way. And he doesn’t say anything. It makes me very nervous. It makes Angela even more nervous. She can’t keep her mouth shut. She looks at us and says

“We were both in court today”

That brings a reaction, and not a good one. He still doesn’t move, but there is no mistaking the reaction as his dead eyes flash with anger. Angela shrinks in her chair.

I guess we now know something about him that he didn’t want us to know.

Gordon and I try hard to look involved with our private conversation and not look at them. But it is almost impossible to ignore them. We want to leave, but how do we do it quietly when they are just a couple of feet away?

And then a second man arrives, this one is very different. Short and squat with loose fitting clothing that could be hiding anything. His face is florid and mean, with little piggy eyes that flit from side to side and glare at anything that comes within his sight. He pulls out another chair and sits legs apart to one side.

And then wandering down the street behind Angela comes a third man. Short and flabby, with ill fitting clothes and hair that needs attention, he has “schmuck” written all over him. He suddenly sees the two men and stops dead in his tracks. He has to be Angela’s son, and this was clearly the reason why he kept asking her on the phone if she was alone. He is like a deer caught in headlights. Angela hasn’t seen him and he doesn’t know what to do. He freezes. Bad choice.

Piggy eyes gets out of his chair faster than you would think possible and walks over to him. This is getting nasty.

And just then Gino appears with two glasses of lemoncello. His timing can’t be coincidental. He walks between the two tables and turns his back on Angela and the tall man.

Facing us, he says in a loud voice, loud enough for the others to hear,

“I hope you have enjoyed your meal. Please accept these drinks on the house.”

He then quietly hands us the bill and gestures that we should get out of there.

I have never been more grateful to anyone. And we didn’t need to be told twice to get out of there. We take the bill inside, find Gino and thank him.

He apologises for the evening. We tell him it has been an experience, but not one we need to repeat. He smiles and shakes our hands.

“I hope we will see you again” he says.

Not a chance in hell.