Page 24 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
‘I’d really like to offer something community based. Something similar to what you’re doing but don’t think either would be quite right and you’ve got them covered anyway.’ Livvy ruminated, ideas running through her head. ‘Maybe a board games afternoon? You know, Scrabble and Monopoly. With tea and biscuits? Do you think that would work?’
Bee nodded enthusiastically. ‘Excellent idea. I can see that sort of thing going down really well. And a pub is a different environment to a café. You might get more men attending and it’s often men who don’t develop their support networks enough. Go for it. Get some flyers printed and I’ll put them up in the café.’
‘Thanks, Bee. I’d like to have a noticeboard in the main corridor of the pub when I get the chance to put one up. I could point people your way then, too.’
‘Think you’re getting the hang of the Lullbury community spirit.’ Bee laughed. ‘Now, let’s get down to the serious business of eating cake!’
CHAPTER 16
Sloe gin – a British liqueur made with sloe fruits picked after the first frosts of winter. Popular amongst ladies in the nineteenth century. Sweetness can be adjusted.
Livvy rushed back. She had a hot date with a chimney sweep. She half jogged up the steep hill back to the pub and arrived hot-faced and breathless just in time to see a smart black and silver van pull up in the car park. Despite all best efforts, and after much early promise, the wood burner was smoking and not giving out the expected heat. It had proved impossible to book a sweep before the stove was fitted.
The sweep’s name was Jonquil and she was as gloomy as her name was sunny. A tiny, wiry middle-aged woman, she stood in front of the newly installed wood burner and tutted with violence. ‘Just as well I’m here. You can’t go using this old chimmley when it ain’t been swept for I don’t know how long. You’ll have the whole place burning down round your ears.’
‘Well, I’m very glad you got to me in time then,’ Livvy answered, trying to keep her temper. She’d rung at least three times before the woman had got back to her. ‘As I said to you on the phone, ideally it would have been better to sweep it before having the wood burner fitted and lit. I’ll leave you to it, shall I?’
‘Cuppa wouldn’t go amiss,’ Jonquil said, unfolding a huge white sheet and laying it down. ‘Two sugars, drop o’ milk.’
‘Coming right up.’ Livvy banged the kitchen door open, ignoring the woman’s mutters of, ‘Bloomin’ townies.’
Having taken Jonquil tea with some added biscuits in the saucer, Livvy returned to the kitchen, the ash and soot from the chimney was making her cough. Poor Candice would be dusting it off surfaces for days. Her phone buzzed. It was her father.
‘How’s it going, Liv? How was the grand opening?’
‘Went really well, Dad. Got great reviews for the food and everyone loved the bonfire and fireworks.’
‘Well, they’ll lap up anything free. Make sure you charge entrance next year.’
Livvy’s heart shrivelled a little. Was it too much to hope he’d say a simple congratulations?
‘You need to get online reviews,’ her father continued. ‘Tripadvisor is the thing folk read before they make decisions about where to eat. Times are hard. They don’t want to spend their hard-earned cash unless they’re sure of what they’ll get. It’s tough in hospitality. We got shafted during Covid and the industry’s never recovered.’
‘Yes, Dad.’ Livvy had heard this complaint for years. ‘I’m trying to build a community pub though.’
‘Are you?’ Brian Smith-Lygott sniffed in derision. ‘Doesn’t sound much like your original vision. Thought you were going foodie gastropub?’
‘I was. Still am. But I’d like to develop the idea of the pub being a hub of the community too.’
‘Look, darling, you of all people should know if you’re not clear about your vision, it gets diluted, and you don’t succeed. It’s not how we brought you up.’
‘I know.’ In her head Livvy had a hundred arguments to put forward. She wanted to do something different with The George. Her parents didn’t agree and couldn’t see why she’d broken away from their business model, so she remained quiet. It was useless to argue.
‘We’re coming down to see what your George is all about. Just before we go on that cruise. We’ll have an early Christmas together.’
Would have been nice to be asked.‘Great. I hope we’ll do you proud.’
‘Well, we’ll see. Speak soon.’
The phone went dead. Livvy stared at it, exasperation and panic warring. Getting a room ready for her parents was yet another job to add to the list. She blew out a frustrated breath. Nothing would come up to her mother’s stratospherically high standards.
After nursing a mug of tea debating whether she’d be better giving up her bedroom and camping out in one of the others, she ventured back into the bar with another mug for the not so jovial Jonquil.
Jonquil appeared to be glad to see her, or it might have been the tea. ‘Aw, smashin’. Thirsty work doing this.’ She took the mug and drank.
Livvy retreated to the bar and perched on a stool. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Just as well you called me in when you did. Reckon that last lot what owned the place never let the chimmley see a brush. I’ve got a ton of stuff down.’
