Page 10 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
Sitting in the pub kitchen two hours later Livvy began the interview. She hesitated and re-checked the online form the man had completed. ‘Fabio, is it? Could you summarise your experience please?’
As the man talked, without a hint of the Italian accent his name suggested, Livvy studied him. Early thirties, ridiculously good-looking with luxurious dark hair and limpid brown eyes. It would be a shame to hide him in the kitchen.
‘Catering college of course,’ he was saying. ‘Samphyre in Exeter, Rolandaz in London, spent time in the States cooking for celebs.’ He named two of the biggest film studios.
He was certainly well-qualified. Overly so. She was suspicious. ‘You said you’re originally from the west country. What brings you back? And would you really be happy cooking in a small pub? Will we be able to offer you the challenge you so obviously need?’
Fabio’s eyes gleamed. ‘I could make it so much more. That would be the challenge. Building from nothing to something. To a destination eating experience!’
Livvy suppressed a smile. She liked the arrogance. ‘Putting aside the insult that The Runaways is nothing, would cooking here be enough for you? You’re obviously very ambitious. How would I know you’d stay?’
‘Livvy, I’m back here as my mama is ill. I want to spend some time with her.’ For a second tears shone in the dark eyes. ‘While I can. Cooking for you would be a gift. If you trusted me to do what I want in the kitchen, then I’ll promise you I’ll stay as long as it suits us both. And, by the way, my real name’s Fred but Fabio goes down better with the clientele.’ He gave a shrug. ‘Mama is Italian but I’m from Honiton. Devon boy, me.’
Livvy stared at him. He seemed, the name thing aside, to be genuine. But she didn’t want to rush into anything and make the wrong decision, no matter the urgency. ‘Fabio, would you be prepared to cook for me as part of your interview?’
‘Of course! It would be my pleasure. But mostly yours. And the menu – is that up to me?’
‘Entirely up to you. Just let me have the bill for the ingredients so I can reimburse you.’
He smacked a forefinger and thumb to his lips in a gesture so overtly Italian, it made Livvy want to hire him then and there. ‘Then I shall prepare a tasting menu, the likes of which you have never had. Will it just be for you?’
The thought of eating this promised banquet all alone had Livvy’s mood plummeting. ‘No,’ she said, as something occurred to her. ‘There’ll be two of us.’ After Mark’s kindness over the auction, she owed him a favour.
‘Then it will be a mealper due,’ Fabio said with a flourish and grinned. Then he added, ‘Leave it with me, my lovely,’ rapidly resorting to Devon.
Having possibly appointed a chef, it became apparent the need for other staff was paramount. It was a risk to take them on when she hadn’t got the business up and running but so was openingon a shoestring. Better to start off how she meant to continue. Fabio would need a sous chef and she and Brittany would need help behind the bar and, at this her feminist principles rebelled, someone strong to look after the cellar was vital. Barrels of beer weighed a ton.
Her saviour came, once again, in the unlikely form of Pete. With the kitchen operating, she’d kept the skittles alley open. She could offer limited beer and cider, and burgers. It went down well with the players but was surprisingly hard work. After the Wednesday match, a local derby bitterly contested between teams from The Runaways and The Toad and Flamingo, the locals’ pub on the other side of town, he stayed back to help clear up.
To her surprise, Mark popped by and offered his help too. ‘Was driving home and saw the lights on,’ he said. ‘Thought you might need a hand.’
Livvy sighed out her gratitude. ‘Thank you, Mark.’ There was something about his presence she found reassuring.
‘The lass is doing too much,’ Pete grunted from the far end of the alley where he was carefully, and at a glacial speed, stacking chairs. ‘Take that empty barrel out, will you?’
Mark grinned, saluted him and rolled his sleeves up. Tipping the barrel over on its side, he rolled it out to the car park. Returning he said, amazed, ‘How much do that lot drink? There’s five barrels out there.’
‘I’m not complaining. Keeps my income ticking over when I don’t have anything else coming in.’ Livvy began to collect the empty pint glasses and then gave up; she’d leave it until the morning. ‘And thank you for taking the barrel out. I’m looking for staff but apart from one girl called Brittany who I’ll think I’ll take on, and a possible chef, I haven’t found anyone else suitable.’
‘Wish I could help. But I can’t think of anyone looking for work. Lullbury is like most seaside places; the young move away, the retired rarely want to commit to regular paid work again. You’ll have more joy in the summer when the students come in looking for seasonal work.’
‘Except I can’t wait that long. I want to launch when the refurb is done and open with a fireworks party.’ She gave an exhausted grin. ‘Open with a bang if you like. And there are going to be times when I can’t be here. I need someone reliable, someone trustworthy to take my place.’
Pete shuffled towards them. ‘You need a good cellarman. Do the grunt work. Someone good behind the bar an’ all.’
‘Nothing wrong with your hearing, Pete,’ Mark said.
‘I’ll ignore that,’ the old man muttered. ‘There’s Young Karl. Just been made redundant, he has.’
‘Oh come on, Pete,’ Mark answered before Livvy could get a word in. ‘Young Karl is sixty-three. He’s not going to want to hump barrels around.’
‘And still going to the gym. Don’t tar everyone with the same brush, they’m not all pen pushers like you. Young Karl’d take out three of them barrels to the one you just rolled out.’
‘Touché,’ Livvy put in. ‘Thanks, Pete. I’ll certainly consider Karl for the job if you think he’d be interested. How can I get hold of him?’
‘Give me here that beer mat. I’ll jot down his mobile,’ Pete said, a little surprisingly. Peering down at the piece of cardboard, he scribbled down a number. ‘He’d be glad of the work, ’specially with Christmas coming up. Expensive time is Christmas.’
‘It is,’ Livvy said faintly, feeling steam-rollered.
