Richard Blaine looked up from the table and shook his head. "Come on Freddie," he said. "You know I never drink with customers."Freddie looked apologetic. "Sorry," he said. "I guess you've got other things on your mind right now, too." Haven't we all?" Rick nodded towards the open door of the café. Outside the streets were quiet except for the not so distant thump of German artillery. The sound of the shell fire was louder, closer, than it had been that morning. Clegg looked down at the milky coloured drink, pondering for a few moments whether he preferred the smoother French take on aniseed flavoured alcohol over the Greek or the Turkish. There wasn't much to choose, he decided, sinking the contents of the glass.Sam was closing the lid on his piano; the girls waving as they left. He came across to where Rick was sitting. "Time to go, Boss," he said. "You don't want to keep Miss Ilsa waiting and the Marseilles train ain't gonna wait for either of you."Freddie reflected on the impact. Fate would step in on one cold wintery day. Sitting on a bench outside hisoffice, John watched a group of children skate across the frozen city lake.Sipping a cup of gourmet coffee, one of his few vices he watched as some ofthe girls spun around like tops. They all seemed happy, laughing andgiggling even when one of the girls fell. There was no rancor in theirlaughs just friends having a good time. The only thing John was concernedabout was the warm spell that lasted a few days earlier in the week. Theice might be thin in some parts and he hoped that the city would havechecked it beforehand. A terrified scream brought him to his feet.It felt that his purpose in life had all lead up to this moment in time.John reached the break in the ice in seconds, not even realizing that heshould have slipped half the way. Three older women had managed to pull twoof the children out of the freezing water."Who is missing," he asked while taking off his shoes and jacket.A small girl, with tears in her.
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