Page 41 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
The letter confirmed her parents would be staying the following week before driving over to Southampton to join their cruise. With their usual high-handedness, they hadn’t asked, just presumed.
‘Well, Dad, if you’re staying, you can put in a shift behind the bar,’ Livvy murmured.
Whatever her mother’s feelings on Livvy running an ordinary local pub, she knew her father would love it. It would take him back to when he began in the business. She read the rest of the letter without a great deal of interest, it mostly concerned the state of the hospitality industry, the expensive repairs on their house in France and their inability to keep a decent cleaner for their pile in the Cotswolds. Then her eye landed on something written nearly at the bottom, just before they’d signed off.
Oh, and we thought you’d like to know we’re thinking of letting the Gates go.
This was news. The Olde Gates, the last remaining hotel owned by the family, was going to be sold. Livvy frowned. Her parents were only in their mid-fifties, it seemed far too young to give up the one thing that gave them so much fulfilment. She wondered what they’d find to do with their time. There were only so many cruises you could go on.
Looking around at the pub bar she doubted she’d ever feel like giving The George up. It felt like home now, even though she had to share it with strangers a lot of the time. Scanning the letter again, she supposed, on reflection, it was no surprise to hear her parents were considering retiring. The last few years had been a challenging time for the hospitality trade; a hell of an understatement. Still, it would take some adjusting to.
She pictured the rooms upstairs, trying to decide which one to put her parents in. There were a number of bedrooms but none had been refurbished yet. The only other en suite one would have to do; her mother would baulk at creeping along a cold corridor in search of a loo in the middle of the night. It was a functional but chilly looking room, with white walls, black beams and smear of damp damage on the ceiling. It needed a repaint and some colourful bedding. She didn’t have time to repaint, but she could chuck a brightly patterned throw over the bed. It would just have to do.
She wondered what her parents would make of Lullbury Bay. Her father would happily make do but her mother would struggle to find any excitement in a little seaside town in December. What on earth would she do with her? Giggling, Livvy couldn’t see her putting in a stint behind the bar.
Banishing her concerns, she went upstairs to check on bedding and have another look at which bedroom to put them in. She’d have to pay Candice some extra shifts to get upstairs looking half decent. Like most pubs, the emphasis and the money was spent on the public rooms and this was certainly the case with The George. Refurbishing the bedrooms was at the very end of a long to-do list.
There was a glowering darkness outside, even though it was ten in the morning. Glancing through the window on the half landing, she could see ominous heavy clouds rolling in over a greeny-grey churning sea. It was one thing which fascinated herabout living on the coast; the ever-changing seascape and the fact you could predict the weather by looking out and seeing what would be heading landwards in about five minutes. She stood for a minute watching the clouds roll in and the wind get up. The tree palms in the beer garden began to thrash about.
The garden was yet another project but one which would have to wait for better weather. The smokers would have to put up with the ramshackle wooden pergola for the time being. The beer garden would be a real asset though, when landscaped. It commanded magnificent views across the bay and who didn’t like sipping a cool white wine outside on a balmy summer’s evening? As the first hit of sleet hurled itself at the window, Livvy shivered. A hot summer seemed a long way off. It was just as well they all had Christmas to look forward to; it was such a dark time of the year.
Her phone buzzed. It was Mark asking her if she was still up for Late Night Shopping that evening. The ensuing conversation warmed her up and completely made her forget all about her parents’ impending visit and the horrible weather.
CHAPTER 24
Hot mulled wine – the perfect Christmas drink to get the party started. Add brandy and cinnamon sticks to spice things up.
‘It’s so good to get out and indulge in something really Christmassy,’ Livvy said, squashing her woolly hat further down her ears and trying not to shiver. Lullbury Bay’s main street thronged with people. Shop windows glowed and above them a myriad of lights twinkled. The light shimmered and reflected on the wet street surface and made the whole thing even more magical. It was like being inside a shining, glittering Christmas snow globe.
Mark grinned. ‘Even though it’s about minus ten?’
‘Despite that. At least it’s stopped sleeting. That was quite a shower we had this morning. It was white over.’
‘How’s your mulled wine? Doing the trick?’
‘If you mean is it getting me into the Christmas spirit, then yes. If you’re asking, is it warming me up? Then sadly no!’ Livvy stamped her feet in an attempt to get some feeling inthem. ‘I like the music,’ she added, nodding to the brass band grouped around the Christmas tree and valiantly playing ‘Good King Wenceslas’. Each band member wore a bright red Santa hat which matched their noses. ‘They must be frozen though. I’m surprised their fingers work. Wonder if they’d like to come and play in the pub one night? It would be really Christmassy.’
‘Oi.’ Mark nudged her gently. ‘It’s your night off. No pub talk.’
‘Sorry. Force of habit. And how great they’ve closed off the high street to traffic.’ She looked around at the stalls selling candy floss, burgers, falafels, glow sticks, roasted chestnuts, pulled pork rolls, giant gingerbread men on a stick, and Santa hats. Scents of food cooking drifted in the breeze making her stomach growl. ‘The stall selling knitted hats and scarves is doing a roaring trade. I can’t believe how many people are here in this freezing weather. Oh, and look at the knitted graffiti. On the bollards.’
At the lower end of the high street was a cobbled section of wide pavement. To prevent parking a row of bollards had been erected. Over each was stretched a knitted figure: a penguin, a snowman, a robin and, for some reason, a luridly pink flamingo. Knitted in bright colours, they were all wound round with flickering lights. ‘Wonder who went rogue with the flamingo?’ Livvy giggled, cupping her mulled wine, enjoying the Christmassy scents and the hot steam.
An elderly man stopped to say hello. It was Austin. Dressed in a forest green coat, topped with a woolly red hat and matching mittens he looked not unlike one of Santa’s elves. ‘Going to be a cold winter, mark my words,’ he said, his breath misting out in the frigid air. ‘Reckon there’ll be snow before Christmas.’
‘Hi, Austin,’ Livvy said. ‘Happy Christmas. Do you think we’ll have a white one?’
‘Happy Christmas, my lovely. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit. And I’ll be up to try your board games afternoon, by the way.’
‘Wonderful. I look forward to welcoming you.’
‘Told the missus it was a games afternoon, but she got the wrong end of the stick. Completely.’ He giggled and then shivered violently. ‘Not standing around in this. I’ll maybe see you down at the beach huts. Ta ta now.’
Livvy turned to Mark. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Aggie, Austin’s wife, runs a vlog for erm… sex tips for the elderly. She’s a bit of a… how can I put it?… silver swinger. I imagine she thought the games were of a completely different sort.’
‘No way!’
