Page 18 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
‘That would be amazingly kind. Thank you.’
Rick shrugged. ‘It can be tough when you’re starting out. I had lots of input from Caroline over at The Station House – do try their cocktails by the way – so I’m happy to pass it on. And getThe South West News and Viewsonside. I’ll email the link. It’s a what’s-on blog. Fairly influential. A review on thereis worth gold. Oh,’ he said, as an afterthought, ‘I don’t suppose you’re looking for a cleaner? Ours has a sister looking for work. Candice.’
Livvy was overcome. ‘I do need a cleaner. I’ve been putting off advertising for one as I’ve had builders in and I didn’t want a cleaner to be scared off. The George has been in rather a mess. I’d love to meet Candice. Thank you and thank you for all the information. It’s so good of you.’
‘No worries. One of the things we do really well here in Lullbury Bay is community. We all help each other. I’m glad you enjoyed the meal. Hopefully we’ll see you both again.’
As Mark and Livvy walked through the alley to the shoppers’ car park behind the restaurant, Livvy wondered how The George would even begin to compete with The Old School Kitchen. It had been pretty perfect.
Mark unlocked the Mercedes. ‘Great evening. Wonderful food but it occurs to me that the one asset The George has that The Old School Kitchen lacks is plenty of parking. An enormous free, easily accessible car park. Counts for a lot, especially in high summer when Lullbury Bay will be rammed and folk will be fighting for a space.’ He smiled at her over the roof of the car. ‘Get in. I’ll take you home.’
Livvy slid onto the passenger seat. She felt a huge rush of affection for Mark. He always knew exactly the right thing to say. And, what’s more, she agreed. The Old School Kitchen, while perfect in its own way, perhaps didn’t have absolutelyeverythingsorted. Much as she’d liked Rick and was grateful to him for his help, she couldn’t help but preen just a little.
CHAPTER 12
Hot milk – sweetened with sugar or preferably honey. Ideal for those who have trouble sleeping
Livvy had been so busy and was so exhausted by the time she hit the sheets, she was usually fast asleep in minutes. Tonight, though, worry about reopening the pub was keeping her awake. Tugging the duvet up around her shoulders, she shivered further down into the bed, promising herself an electric blanket as soon as she had time to hit the shops. The weather had turned cold, and she was discovering the damp in the sea air never seemed to quite leave the building.
The plan was for a soft relaunch before the fireworks party and grand opening at the weekend, by which time The Three Ds had promised faithfully the restaurant refurb would be complete. She and Fabio had planned a three-course themed menu culminating in fizz and fireworks around the bonfire. It was a sneaky way to get rid of any burnable stuff they’d stripped out of the pub and Darrell’s sons had built an impressivebonfire at the far end of the beer garden. Once lit it would look magnificent against the sea backdrop. She’d splashed out on a professional pyrotechnics company who assured her it would be a good show. Bookings weren’t too bad for the restaurant, and she hoped for walk-ins too. It would be a busy night. But first, she had to get through the soft opening when any snags or issues with the team would get ironed out. Hopefully.
Worry and the cold kept sleep at bay and it was the early hours before she’d eventually dozed off. And then, for some reason, she sat up with a start, not knowing what had woken her, and lay there, her heart beating madly. Had she heard something? Shoving her head under the covers completely, she lay listening to her own thumping heartbeat and straining to decipher a sound beyond it. What was that? Mice? She needed a cat who was a good hunter in that case. Or was the scrabbling something else?
She visualised herself going through the locking up process. Main door locked and bolted. Kitchen door ditto. All windows shut tight. Trap door to the cellar secured. She was suddenly very aware that she was alone in a large, rattlingly old building. Sometimes the disadvantages of going it alone were too much. For a second, she wished there was a sturdy male body next to her in bed. Her thoughts drifted to Gavin and she almost smiled. He’d been a bigger wuss than she.
The image of Mark’s solid, reassuring presence rose up in her imagination. Her lip curled in amusement; he’d be capable of tackling most things. The window casement clattered making her jump. The advantage of having this as her bedroom was the magnificent view. The downside was the wind coming right off the sea hit this side of the building with force. It was a wild night; the remnant of an Atlantic storm had battered the southwest coast for the last couple of days. Livvy relaxed infinitesimally. Just the wind then. A squall threw itself at the window,spattering the glass with rain so hard it sounded like pebbles from the beach far below.
Livvy’s shoulders sank back to their more normal position. It had just been the weather which had woken her. Then she heard it. The side door of the pub, the one leading to the kitchen, far below her, rattled violently as if someone was desperate to get in. Livvy froze. Had she locked it? Screwing her eyes shut she again went through her movements of the evening before. Yes, she definitely remembered locking it and putting on the alarm. Shoving herself up the bed, she switched on the light. Wind battered the window and howled around the corner of the building. It was the wind then. Only the wind. Plus exhaustion, stress and her over-active imagination.
Tripping downstairs to open up for deliveries next morning, she tried to shrug off the sounds of the night before. A noisy wind can catch at the imagination when alone at four in the morning and whirl into being things that just aren’t possible. Old buildings had their fair share of hauntings and pubs were notorious for ghosts, but Livvy didn’t believe in the spirit world and refused to entertain the idea that The George was haunted. Of course, that left the possibility it was an intruder. Livvy couldn’t decide which was worse. No, it had been the wind and her overhyped nerves about the opening, that was all. Swinging back the kitchen door with vigour, she greeted the vegetable delivery man with a smile of such forced gaiety stitched onto her face that he recoiled.
‘Wishing you all the best for today,’ he said, looking startled. ‘I’ll be along later with the missus.’ He waved and shot off to his van.
‘See you.’ Livvy humped the boxes of veg into the kitchen and shut the door firmly on the frigid breeze that whipped up off the sea.
Fabio and Stewie would be along in an hour to begin prep. Fabio had suggested, until the restaurant was up and running properly, it would be wise to stick to a basic pub menu. Good burgers, a steak and ale pie made with meltingly tender beef, a roasted Mediterranean vegetable lasagne and a rich and creamy fish pie. They’d also offer thrice-cooked chips and a range of baguettes for lunchtimes. It all sounded good to Livvy. Then doubt assailed. For a second lack of sleep overwhelmed her. She pushed a hand through her hair and stared at the boxes of potatoes, onions and assorted peppers piled up in front of her. Could she really pull this off? Resolutely heading for the kettle, she switched it on. There was little that a good cup of coffee couldn’t cure.
A knock came at the kitchen door again. Another delivery but this time it was flowers. Two bunches. Reading the card that came with the international delivery made Livvy’s heart swell:
Knock ’em dead, doll. Hugest of best wishes for this week’s grand opening. Will be over to check out The George asap. Luv Yolly, Cosmo and the Bumps xxx.
She couldn’t think who the others could be from. Sending flowers wasn’t the sort of thing her parents did even when they approved of something, so it was with some curiosity that she read the second card:
Sending good luck wishes from Daisy and Rick, and all at The Old School Kitchen. Welcome to Lullbury Bay!
She’d arranged them in vases, was on her second coffee and beginning to feel the buzz of the caffeine when Fabio arrived, his nose pink with cold. Unwinding an extra-long scarf from around his neck, he muttered, ‘One for me and make it quick.’
Fabio was definitely not a morning person. She assumed it was from years of working late nights in restaurants. Also assuming she’d get nothing out of him bar monosyllables until he’d had his caffeine hit, she poured him a mug, added a dash of cream, just as he liked it and went through to the bar to check the last-minute details.
She stood in the middle of the pub and admired the simple refurb. The chairs and tables bought at the auction looked perfect, the stone flags had cleaned up to a mellow grey and cream and the white-washed walls made everything look fresh and light. The wood burner was laid and ready to be lit and the bar gleamed with glossy optics and bottles, thanks to Candice who was proving a treasure. It was simple and understated and just as she’d wanted. She’d kept the old station clock and it ticked reassuringly into the quiet. Apart from that, the walls were blank; she hoped to find some local art to display.
She was envisioning seascapes and abstract prints when Fabio came up behind her and surprised her by pulling her backwards into him in a fierce hug. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he said, ‘It’ll be fine, babes, you’ll see.’
‘Thanks, Fab.’ Livvy felt tears prickle. The man could be difficult, but he was free with his affection and praise and sometimes you just needed a hug.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me. Chillax,bambina. It’ll be a riot. Today’s special is heritage turkey and stuffing baguettes with home-made cranberry. Shove it up on the chalkboard, there’s a love.’
Livvy shook herself into action and meandered around, tweaking the bar towels and drip trays, tucking a chair in,adjusting the bottles on the shelves. She resisted rearranging the mass of white lights she’d put above the bar. They gave off the merest hint of Christmas. Her competitors were already in full Christmas mode, so she’d hung delicate glass decorations from the new wall sconces too. Again, only a pointer to the upcoming season. She didn’t want to go full-on Christmas until the tree she’d ordered had arrived. She wasn’t doing anything useful or necessary, but it helped. Just before eleven, she poured snacks into the pretty glass bowls she’d bought cheaply at the antiques market in Bridport, took in an enormous breath and unlocked the front door. Stepping outside for a moment, she admired the sign proclaiming the pub’s new, or rather original, name. Darrell had found it under a pile of decrepit garden furniture in one of the outhouses. It had come up a treat with a deep clean. And the wooden furniture would burn like kindling on the bonfire.
