Page 54 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
CHAPTER 30
Whisky – single malt. Singular and complex on the tongue
In the end, Livvy was sad to say goodbye to her parents. She loved her father, even though he, inadvertently, pricked at any confidence she built up in herself. He’d said they were proud of what she was doing. It was enough. He’d been a huge asset behind the bar and seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself. She had a more complicated relationship with her mother; she never felt she had ever measured up but could never work out in what way. To her surprise Penny had given her a swift hard hug before leaving, seemed to be on the brink of saying something and then began nagging Brian that they’d be late and would miss their embarkation slot.
The George was now in full Christmas mode. They were busy. Maybe word was spreading or the feature inSouth West News and Viewswas having its effect, but the restaurant was fully booked each night and tables were scarce in the bar. It wasslightly quieter during the day, Livvy reckoned this was a good thing; it enabled them to catch their breath.
It was an evening in the week before Christmas and everyone in Lullbury Bay seemed to have braved the icy weather (the local news reported the month was heading to be the coldest Dorset December on record) and had made their way to The George. The place was packed. Livvy overheard a couple in the restaurant saying everywhere in town had been fully booked for months so maybe her pub was reaping the benefit of being new and with available tables. She didn’t have much time to question it.
Brittany was flat-out serving food in the restaurant, with spillover diners eating in the bar. Livvy, wishing her dad was still around, had called in Simona to help. With everyone in the Christmas spirit and ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ blasting out – Eli would insist on turning the volume up – the place was buzzing.
She emerged, flush-faced from emptying the glass washer, to see Jason Lemmon standing at the bar. He was wrapped up against the cold, his nose and chin an unbecoming red.
‘I never know how to greet people at this time of year,’ he said with uncharacteristic joviality. ‘Is it too early to wish you Happy Christmas? I’ve just come from the RNLI carol concert on the seafront. It was far too cold to stand around.’ He looked about him. ‘Seems the rest of Lullbury has had the same idea. Still,’ he raised one pale brow, ‘good for business.’
Did she detect an edge to the comment? She still couldn’t put her finger on why he was so unlikeable. ‘Of course it’s not too early to say Happy Christmas. What can I get you? Gin and tonic?’
‘Actually, as it’s rather chilly out there tonight, make it a whisky.’
‘Which would you prefer?’
‘A single malt if you have one.’
‘We do.’
‘Make it a double. Doubt I’ll get near the bar again for a while.’
Definitely an edge. Why hadn’t he stayed in town to drink, or better still, gone home? ‘Ice?’ Livvy didn’t think he needed any. His personality was chilly enough.
He shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t dream of diluting a good Scotch. Tell me, are you still intent on keeping the skittle alley?’
Livvy poured a double measure of Glenfiddich. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘Don’t you think it would be better to get rid? Extend the outside space. Makes sense for the summer season.’
He had a point, but she’d rather die than admit it. Besides, what business was it of his how she ran her pub? ‘Well, it’s certainly a consideration. Enjoy your whisky.’ She turned away, not trusting herself to keep up the pretence of being polite.
The skittle alley was a sore subject. It was costing her a fortune to heat for minimal return. Glancing over at Pete in his corner sipping his cider, one hand on Skip’s head, she softened. How could she get rid of something that meant so much to him and her more traditional clientele?No room for sentimentality in this business,she could hear her mother say.It’s all about the profit.Livvy looked around. Profitwasimportant – how could it not be? But she wanted more for The George. She wanted it to have its place at the heart of its community, not to rely solely on summer season trade. She also wanted to become a food destination. Seeing Pete give the dead eye to someone who dared move a chair from his table she wondered if it was going to be possible to meet everyone’s needs.
She wished she’d had time to sit down with her father and discuss branding and marketing strategies. She sighed and pulled a pint of Santa’s Sauce for Jonquil’s husband, who wasthe next customer. Pinning on a professional smile, she listened as he made small talk about how well the carol concert had gone.
‘Penny for them?’ Simona asked, sidling alongside and beginning to slice lemon. ‘Don’t let Jason wind you up. Thinks he owns this town, darling. Men, eh? Can never resist telling a woman how to do things.’
‘He thinks I ought to tear down the skittle alley.’
‘What does he know about owning a pub? He’s a bloody property developer!’
‘Maybe he was touting for business? If I got anyone to do it, it wouldn’t be him, it would be The Three Ds.’ She poured a glass of red wine and took the payment. ‘He’s right though. I need to make some decisions. I’ve been fudging it ever since I took over. I need to develop a definite image for the place. I need to decide what sort of place I want to run. But there can be a clash between community needs which don’t necessarily make much money and turning over a profit.’
‘Looks like you’ve got it right to me, kitten. Lots of locals in tonight, a smattering of visitors. Is the restaurant booked out?’
‘Gosh yes. Fabio’s champing at the bit to try them out with his sprouts with peas and cashews, and honey-roasted ham.’
Simona giggled. ‘What I wouldn’t do to honey-roast him! Why not get The Three Ds to do a quick job on the alley? Nothing fancy, make it watertight, insulated. See how that goes. You can always do a complete refit when funds allow, if you decide to keep it going.’ She handed over the gin and tonic she’d just made. ‘And a mulled wine and a mineral water? Coming right up, darling.’
‘You know that’s not a bad idea. Wonder if I could use it for other things? Valentine’s disco maybe? It would need some kind of floor though, to temporarily cover the skittles run.’
‘Marvellous.’ Simona popped the lemon slices into a glass of sparkling water and added a generous amount of ice. ‘A functionroom could be a real asset. But I have to make it crystal clear, kitten, I’ll only come along to the Valentine’s do if Fabio is on the menu!’
