Page 29 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
‘I can only suggest copious amounts of dog treats. Seriously though, the board games idea sounds wonderful and even Old Pete enjoys a game of dominoes.’
‘I’ll order some in, or I might have look in the charity shop in town. Might strike lucky.’
‘Haven’t you any games from when you were a kid?’
‘No. Didn’t really have that kind of childhood,’ Livvy answered, not elaborating. Her upbringing didn’t feature cosy family games around the fire. Her parents were too busy working. ‘I’d like to set up a noticeboard as well, you know, with advertised events. I’m leaning into making the pub a community hub.’
‘And one with great food. Interesting concept.’
‘Isn’t it just?’
‘And what about the skittles alley?’
Livvy sighed. ‘Now that’s something I haven’t decided on. It’s practically falling down. Would need so much investment to repair, I’m not sure I can afford to lay out capital for what might be little return.’
‘It’s a community asset though.’
‘I know. I’ll have to do some head scratching over the accounts. Can’t do it up unless I have the money to invest.’
‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ thundered to its conclusion at the other end of the bar.
Mark’s mouth twisted. ‘At least that’s one community service you’re doing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Keeping that lot here so their better halves can have a peaceful evening to themselves!’
CHAPTER 18
Jagerbomb – a shot of Jägermeister dropped into an energy drink. Some take it as a hangover cure. A mistake.
Livvy came awake with a start. Too much whisky and the promise of a rare day off had had her in bed as soon as she’d closed up last night. It had been tricky prising Gerry’s lot away from the bar, but they’d gone home eventually.
She had twinges of concern as she saw them off the premises, still singing loudly. She had a duty of care not to let her customers drink too much and also to her neighbours; she’d lose her licence if there were complaints about rowdiness at closing time. She was touched that Mark had hung on until she’d bolted the main door. Having had his fair share of whisky, he made the wise decision to walk home and collect his car later. As she’d made her way upstairs, she wondered where he lived. Somewhere not too far away presumably.
Turning over in bed, she glanced at the alarm clock and groaned. It was ten to five. Pulling the duvet back over herhead, she tried to get back to sleep and failed. A raging thirst, coupled with the need to wee kept sleep at bay. Giving up, she threw off the bedding, switched on the lamp and padded into the bathroom.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she flicked on the kettle to make tea. It was still pitch black outside and wouldn’t get light for at least another three hours. It felt like the middle of the night and, with the darkness of the hour, all the fun and bonhomie of the previous evening leached away.
She’d thought she was feeling her way into the community, making friends. Now she felt very on her own in a huge building. The sharp tang of pine wafted through from the Christmas tree in the bar bringing comfort. She’d hung fairy lights in the kitchen to bring some seasonal cheer to Stewie and Fabio, well mainly for Stewie. Reaching up she switched them on enjoying their soft glow. It was, at last, finally beginning to feel a little more like Christmas.
The kettle bubbled to a noisy boil, clicked off and left a silence in the kitchen that was profound. Livvy’s stomach dropped as the familiar doubts assailed her. Why did everything always seem three times as bad at this time in the morning? Or was it just her hangover? Intrusive thoughts chased themselves around her pounding head. Would she ever make a success of the place? Food orders were picking up, but she’d never make a substantial profit until she got the reputation of the restaurant properly established.
She couldn’t rely on Fabio being around permanently; despite his protestations, her little pub wouldn’t be enough for his ambitions long term. And timing was an issue. She needed to make money to see her through the quiet period. January through to Valentine’s Day would be deathly quiet. She didn’t make much from the scattering of regular drinkers who came in,even if their numbers were bolstered by Gerry’s Sunday night gang, so her true profitability depended on food sales.
Unease slid over her. There was something about the Sunday night gang she didn’t trust and she hadn’t liked the disagreement between Eli and his uncle. As promised, Karl had kept a close eye on Eli and had reported nothing untoward so far. She wasn’t sure she entirely trusted Eli either. She knew from experience it was all too easy to have a finger in the till. Still, she couldn’t dismiss someone on a gut feeling and she didn’t want to discourage Gerry and his friends just because she didn’t like them very much. She was a publican; she couldn’t hope to like all her customers. She just needed to make sure they didn’t drink themselves insensible or cause trouble.
The silence in the kitchen thickened and Livvy got up to put teabags into the pot. Fabio would have shuddered, had he known. He always made tea properly, with leaves. As she reached up for a mug off the shelf, she dislodged the little book she and Jonquil had discovered in the chimney.
Pouring some tea, she settled at the work prep bench and gingerly opened the notebook. Again, she admired the sketch of the young woman. She was very beautiful. The artist had hinted at dark hair and eyes and a well-shaped mouth that curved up at the sides in an expression of perpetual amusement. She must have been very young when the portrait was drawn as she still had the bloom of childhood on her rounded cheeks. Livvy wondered who she was and leafed through the book to find a clue. As well as some other sketches, most not as accomplished, there was some poetry. Livvy scanned the first. She had no idea if it was any good, but it was clearly a love poem:
A smile bestows her face
With a womanly hue so pure.
An unawak’d beauty with shy good grace
Life’s wondrous treasures yet to endure.
