"What can I get for you Miss?"
It is a good question and one I literally cannot answer as I have no voice and have not thought about it at all.
"Would you like a drink?" the barman asks again - putting the same question in a different manner.
I blush and fiddle with the straps of my handbag nervously. There is a thin man with a rugged complexion standing at the bar by a stool. His wearing a nice suit; a trilby hat and a buff colored Mac are laying of the adjacent stool with a newspaper on top. He smiles at me in a comforting manner. He looks fatherly, concerned.
"I'll stand her this one, Terry, now what can we get you?"
" A Baby Cham," I whisper to my new found friend, nervously touching my face, my bag, my hair. I am conscious my powder covered face is still burning like a furnace. It is a drink Fiona has had on many occasions.
"A Baby Cham - always popular with the ladies!" The man says, smiling broadly.