Page 24 of Best Summer Ever

My next attempt was a vast improvement and it wasn’t too much longer after that before I was deemed capable of actually serving up my effort to a paying customer. I was mindful about what I’d wasted, but hoped further practice would make perfect.

‘Not bad,’ the customer said, holding up the glass and insisting that I kept the change to the note they handed over in exchange.

‘I’ll make a decent bartender out of her yet,’ Sam laughed as I counted out the change and tipped it in the pint glass next to the till labelled for tips.

‘I think I’ll have a gin, please,’ an elderly gentleman, who had just arrived with a Jack Russell terrier on a lead, politely requested, having looked at the pint.

‘Evening.’ Sam smiled at the man as I quickly reached for the right glass. ‘Do you know George, Daisy?’

‘I know of George,’ I told them both.

‘Oh dear,’ winked the man himself, as he doffed his battered Panama hat in my direction. ‘My reputation precedes me, does it?’

‘It does,’ I laughed. ‘But good things only. I’ve heard it said by more than one person that you tell electrifying and terrifying tempest-tossed tales.’

I knew George was a Wynmouth local. Having come to visit his sister when she lost her husband a few years ago, he had then never left and his scary story-telling in the pub and beyond had developed quite a following.

‘Oh, I like that,’ he twinkled at Sam. ‘Terrifying tempest-tossed tales. We should put that on the posters.’

‘Posters?’ I frowned as I carefully measured out his gin.

‘The posters advertising the pub events,’ Sam explained, looking around. ‘This place isn’t always so quiet these days, hence my desire to get you trained up before the season gets into full swing.’

‘Oh, right,’ I said, shifting from one foot to the other. Sam had been right about the need for comfy shoes. I already felt like I’d been on my feet for days rather than hours and even inmy well-worn Converse, they were starting to throb. ‘What’s in the pub diary then?’

‘Well, this weekend, we have live music on Saturday night,’ Sam said, as another customer came in.

‘Perhaps my summer job isn’t going to be quite as laid-back as I thought,’ I said to George as I set his drink on the bar.

‘If you’re going to be working in here at weekends,’ he smiled, ‘it won’t be laid-back at all. It will be fun though, and talking of fun…’

His gaze came to rest on Josh, who was now sitting reading at a table next to the huge, unlit fire.

‘Come on, Skipper,’ he said to the dog and winked at me again once he’d paid for his drink. ‘Let’s go and say hello to the lovely American, shall we?’

He was right in that Josh was lovely. He’d proved quite the distraction throughout the evening, even when he wasn’t propping up the bar. I’d already noticed how tanned and toned he was (his chest had felt very firm when I’d backed into it), and now, having settled down and immersed himself in a book, he looked Insta perfect, too.

Nick would have called him a triple threat guy and I let out a sigh as I watched him welcome George to his table, not seeming to mind the intrusion at all. Josh really did appear to be the full package.

‘I’ll have a pint of bitter, please, and a packet of cheese and onion,’ came the next request and I quickly refocused on the job in hand.

‘So,’ said Sam, as my first shift came to an end and the last of the customers, including George and Skipper, got ready to leave, ‘how did you find it?’

‘Harder on the feet than I expected,’ I admitted and Sam nodded. ‘And busier too. I thought it would be dead on a Thursday.’

‘Thankfully,’ said Sam, ‘it’s not dead in here on any night of the week now. Tess encouraged me to make lots of changes when she arrived in Wynmouth and even Monday and Tuesday nights have decent footfall now.’

‘That goes to show how long it’s been since I was a regular then,’ I said, shifting from one foot to the other.

And it put a rather different complexion on what I had thought would be a cushy option on the work front, but I had enjoyed my evening. It had kept me from brooding and getting under Mum and Dad’s feet and I’d enjoyed chatting with the customers too. And surreptitiously eyeing up Josh, of course.

And talking of Josh.

‘Board-game night was a revelation,’ he said, grinning, as he joined us at the bar.

‘That’s a Tuesday night,’ Sam clarified for my benefit. ‘I won’t need you to work that night, but you’re welcome to join us, of course. Penny and Nick often come along. They love nothing more than falling out over a game of Scrabble.’

My heart had leapt at the thought of them coming to the pub together, but then sank at the mention of them arguing. Cross words over the Scrabble tiles would not a lasting romance make.

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