Page 11 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
‘I’ll say my good nights then.’ Pete whistled to Skip, who got stiffly to his feet and trotted after his master and out through the door.
‘Thank you for all your help, Pete,’ Livvy called after him. In reply, he put a hand up.
‘Pete, do you want a lift home?’ Mark asked, receiving a curt no in answer. He watched him go. ‘It’s a cold night. I hope he’ll be okay. It wouldn’t have been any trouble to drive him back; he doesn’t live that far from me. Think he likes the stroll back up the hill though.’
Livvy tucked the beer mat into the back pocket of her jeans. ‘I’m in danger of staffing the place completely by personal contacts. Saves on the cost of an ad, I suppose.’
‘It’s the way it works in small towns. Everyone knows one another and everyone knows one another’s business.’ Mark gave a tight grin. ‘Can get claustrophobic at this time of the year without the tourists to dilute the mix a little. If it gets too much for me, I disappear up to London. A few days in the Smoke usually reminds me why I moved to Dorset.’
‘I’m sure it does.’ Livvy looked at Mark thoughtfully, pondering why he had become the brunt of local gossip. Getting back on topic, she said, ‘Maybe I’ll give Karl the benefit of the doubt.’ Shrugging, she added, ‘I mean, what have I to lose? Thank you for your help, Mark. Again!’
‘You okay to lock up?’
‘Absolutely fine. You go home. Perhaps you’ll catch Pete up on your way.’
As she heard the Mercedes’s familiar growly engine start up, she wondered where Mark had been coming from.None of your business, Livvy my girl,she reprimanded herself. The headlights swept the car park and left her in the dark.
A gull keened mournfully overhead and far below her, the sea shushed and murmured. After the busyness of the skittles match it seemed very lonely. The car park yawned, empty, into the darkness and to the beer garden beyond.
On the other side of the pub was attached a three-storey Georgian town house but the car park faced onto the blank back wall of an office block. Its metal escape stairs rattled in a sudden blast of wind. Wishing she hadn’t been so hasty as to insist Mark go, she turned to lock the door of the skittles alley and then stiffened.
Sensing rather than knowing, she felt someone was watching her. A prickle of fear traced down her spine. Keys shoved between her fingers, she braced herself and then turned back to face the car park. ‘Hello? Anyone there?’ The security lights flared on, temporarily blinding her. There might have been a shadow, maybe a figure flitting the far end, towards the road, but it had gone before she’d really registered.
Unnerved, she ran to the pub’s side door, unlocked it and ran in before the security lights cut out again. Her hands shook as she locked the door and double checked it was secure. Her heart pounded into her throat. Ridiculous to be so spooked but she was convinced someone had been out there, watching. Probably bored teenagers. Leaning her forehead against the door and deliberately calming her breathing, she made a note to get the security lights fixed.
CHAPTER 9
Cognac – eau de vie! A classic post prandial digestif
Livvy called Young Karl and interviewed him the following day. He was a compact, stocky man with tattoos and muscles. The very sight of him reassured her he’d be useful to have around, not only for the heavy lifting, but should there be any trouble from customers. She was skilled in deflating tension and dealing with drunks but there was the odd occasion when even she admitted a man with muscles was the only answer. Karl’s outward appearance belied his quiet, intelligent personality and, as Pete had suggested, he was glad of the offer of a job, having been made redundant from his warehouse manager’s role.
What was even better, Karl had worked his dues in pubs when younger so he knew the job, although confessed he might need retraining. Livvy was relieved. He was perfect. After last night’s spook, it would be good to have someone reliable and fatherly around to help lock up.
Once he’d gone, she popped into the function room, now stripped of wall coverings and flooring and asked Darrell if he’d take a look at the outside lighting, bribing him with chocolate digestives and a giant mug of strong tea.
‘Will do, my lovely,’ was his cheerful response. ‘Reckon they can be a bit temperamental, like. Sea air don’t help. Damp gets in everywhere.’
Thanking him and blessing the tradie gods who had sent him her way, she left the entire packet of chocolate digestives with him.
Despite the discouraging interviews of the other day, she then had a run of more successful ones and soon filled the other staff vacancies. Stewie, a part-time catering student, tall and skinny with a thatch of bright red hair, grabbed the opportunity to be sous chef, and she took on Eli Wiscombe as part-time bar help for Brittany. She was a little uneasy about Eli, despite his good references from his other job at the animal sanctuary on the outskirts of Lullbury. However, he’d been upfront about the spot of trouble he’d got in a few years ago and she’d appreciated his honesty.
Good-looking, with a broad face and his dark hair gelled into a quiff, he came across as overconfident. But then, he was eighteen. It came with the territory.
All were employed on a trial basis. They’d have to prove themselves, as would she as a good boss. She eased her shoulders, shaking out her hair. It had been a satisfying day’s work. Now there was one more phone call she needed to make.
If Mark was surprised at being invited to dinner the following evening, he didn’t show it, he simply accepted with a pleasure that was obvious.
The Three Ds had nearly finished the bar. The stone flags had yet to be cleaned up and the lighting and wood burner weren’t installed but there was room for a table for two. With light coming from the bar area and a couple of fat candles on a table salvaged from the skip and covered with a snowy tablecloth, and a standalone heater taking the edge off the chill, it just about passed muster.
‘After all,’ Livvy muttered to herself as she fished out cutlery from a yet unpacked box and laid the table, ‘it’s not as if it’s a date. It’s actually an interview, or dinner with a friend. I haven’t got time for dates.’
Fabio poked his head out from the door to the kitchen and heard. ‘If your dining companion is the guy I’ve just seen getting out of a taxi, maybe you should rethink that philosophy, babes.’
Livvy laughed and tweaked the position of the napkin and the water glasses. ‘I really haven’t time for dating, Fred.’ She turned. ‘Or should I call you Fabio?’
‘Just call me Fab-u-lous darling,’ he answered camply. ‘That’ll do.Amuse boucheat eight. Get him sat down by then.’ He gave a little wave and disappeared.
Mark duly admired the work in progress that was the bar and sat, as instructed, at the little table. It was wobbly and Livvy hoped the wedge ofThe Lullbury Bay Echoshe’d shoved hastily under one leg would last the evening. She flicked his napkin open and spread it on his lap. ‘What can I get you to drink, sir?’ she asked, on a laugh. ‘I’ve a good Sicilian white open, or a local Pinot Noir. Or would you rather a gin and tonic as a pre-prandial cocktail?’
