‘Delighted.’
‘Ice and lemon?’
Jason smiled. He had very white teeth and the smile warmed his otherwise chilly, patrician features. ‘Of course.’
‘Help yourself to bar snacks. Please.’ Turning her back on him to make his drink, she was relieved she’d taken her gin stock seriously and had a range of local ones in. When she turned back, she was delighted to see him eating a kettle crisp. Just the one. He was nibbling it with a fastidious reserve.
‘These are very good.’
‘I’m afraid we’re not doing any food just yet. But hopefully soon. Just as soon as I’ve appointed staff.’
‘Ah. Not a worry. I seldom eat lunch.’
Livvy could believe it. The man was scarily lean. She gestured to the notepad in front of her. ‘I was drafting out an ad just now.’
‘Who do you need?’
Livvy picked up her biro and tapped it against her teeth. ‘A chef who knows what he’s doing, plus a sous chef and waiting staff. Eventually I’d like an experienced barman and cellarman too.’ She caught herself and blushed. ‘They might have to wait until things pick up.’
Jason sipped his G and T. ‘You have big plans for this place, I take it?’
Livvy nodded eagerly. ‘There’s a function room at the back I’d like to renovate as a restaurant, and I’d really like to refurb this place too. Hoping for the gastropub vibe.’ She paused. Having voiced it she wasn’t sure this was still her vision. Austin’s words about the place being Old Pete’s lifeline returned. ‘I need to take it one step at a time though,’ she added.
‘It sounds a very promising plan, and I for one would welcome another fine dining choice in Lullbury.’
Pete ambled up to the bar. He nodded curtly at Jason.
‘What do you think of our new landlady’s schemes, Pete?’ Jason asked.
Livvy stiffened. She wondered if Jason was stirring things. An old man like Pete surely wouldn’t welcome change to his local.
‘As long as I gets a good pint of cider and Skip is still welcome, I ain’t complaining.’ He took the fresh pint Livvy had poured and turned to go. Then stopped and turned back. He wagged a finger, its joints thickened with arthritis. ‘Don’t you go messing with the skittle alley though, you hear. The lads are looking forward to the winter season. Tain’t been the same without the alley being open.’ He ambled back to his seat, spilling a little cider on the carpet.
Jason pursed his lips. ‘There’s your answer. Change is acceptable as long as thereisno change.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘About sums up this town.’ His eyes flickered. ‘It’s a lot to take on. For someone on their own. Which I assume you are?’
Livvy squared her shoulders. ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. My parents have been in the hotel trade all their lives. I used to work for them. I know my stuff.’
‘Good. Then I wish you all the luck in the world.’ Draining his glass, he put up a hand in farewell. ‘And I may have someone in mind for your kitchen. I’ll ask him to get in touch.’
Livvy watched Jason’s departure thoughtfully. Taking a crisp, she glanced through the notes she’d made. A personal recommendation would be far better than attracting some randoms through an ad. She took another crisp. Jason was right; they were delicious. Far too nice to give away. She eyed the generously filled bowls she’d put out so optimistically. She couldn’t afford this. She’d have to keep the better stuff back to sell and try to make at least a small amount of profit. She’d put out some cheaper snacks on the bar.
Glancing over at Pete, his chin nodding against his chest as he dozed off over a copy of theLullbury Bay Echo, her thoughts strayed to the skittle alley. She’d had no idea pub skittles were still so popular. The alley was a long narrow building snaking along from the side of the pub held up, from what she could see, with ivy and mould. It had an ancient, corrugated tin roof that was well down on the list of renovations. A team of skittles players coming in once, maybe twice a week would bolster her takings through the winter until the tourist season began again. Might be worth keeping going.
A gout of wind threw hail at the window, the sunshine of the early morning having long gone. It made her look up and her glance took in the darts board. She’d been planning on getting rid of it as soon as possible. A mistake? Darts teams, like skittles players, liked the odd pint or three. Perhaps she’d keep it. At least for a while. Too much change too soon might not be wise. And maybe Austin Ruddick had a point about the pub being all people like Old Pete had.
CHAPTER 5
Builder’s Tea – strong, three sugars, hint of milk, best served
with biscuits
It had been a difficult decision, but Livvy was sure it was the only way to do it. Despite what she’d said to Jason about easing the pub into change, she couldn’t bear the pink chintz and hunting prints one moment longer. A refurbishment was urgently needed. The trouble was, she had to close down. The three-man team of decorators, a father and two sons, had been adamant they could get the work turned around in two weeks. Plenty of time to open up with a party for fireworks night; ease a new staffing team through November – a notoriously slow month in the pub trade – and then go all guns blazing in the run-up to Christmas and the new year. It also gave her an opportunity to actually appoint some staff.
Pete had complained vociferously so, as a compromise, Livvy had agreed to keep the skittle alley open for the first few fixturesof the season. She promised them burgers – even she could rustle up a batch of burgers and rolls – and a barrel of real ale.
Luckily, the chain which had previously owned the pub had revamped the commercial kitchen and it was, if not exactly state of art, perfectly suitable. She needed to do nothing in there for a while. The bar was a priority, but she’d also decided to attack the function room. The more food she could offer, the better her chance of a profit. She had long-term plans to let the rooms upstairs and convert the outbuildings into holiday accommodation but all that would have to wait.
The ‘lads’ – a group of silver-haired men all in their eighties, seemed happy with the skittles alley as it was, so that would definitely have to languish at the bottom of her list of priorities.
