Page 65 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
Simona pulled a face. ‘Grim. But come on, angel, let me take your mind off things, spill the goss about you and Mark.’
‘There’s nothing between me and Mark. No goss.’
Simona tapped the side of her nose. ‘Do pull the other one. A girl has eyes. I can see when the sparks are…’ she waved her hands around, desperately seeking for the right word and failing, ‘…sparking.’
‘We’re just friends, Simona.’ Livvy said it more forcefully than she meant but she couldn’t deal with this today.
‘Oh. Soz, darling. Didn’t mean to offend.’ Simona picked up her mug and hugged it to her.
‘No offence taken.’ Livvy rubbed an exhausted hand over her face. ‘Sorry, Simona. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s one of those days and I’m knackered.’
‘Well, I think it’s a damn shame. About you and Mark. There’s you, all glossy honey-blonde hair and endless legs and our luscious Mark. He’s terribly keen on you, you know.’
‘Is he?’ Livvy thought back over all the things he’d done for her since she’d taken over the pub. ‘He’s a very kind man. As I said, I think he’s just being a good friend.’
Simona snorted delicately. ‘Believe that if you will, my angel. I’d jump him like a shot. Good men are hard to come by, trust me.’ She sighed. ‘But maybe I’m simply jealous of you having a man hang off your every word.’
Livvy’s head reared up. She’d suspected Simona had feelings for Mark. And that it was mutual.
‘Don’t look at me like that, sweetness. Mark only has eyes for you. I gave up on that ship long ago.’ She shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘I mean, if he was offered up on a plate, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed–’
‘Simona!’
‘I know, darling. I’m awful, aren’t I? But you love me anyway, you simply can’t help it. If only our fabulous Fabio felt the same about me.’
‘Fabio?’
‘Don’t look so startled. I thought I’d rather made my feelings for that man clear.’
‘I always thought you were joking around, you know, flirting. I mean, you flirt with most men. Even Old Pete on occasion.’
Simona gave her silvery laugh. ‘I do love Pete. So deliciously and determinedly grumpy. Ah but Fabio. Hormones will out with that one. It’s just that I do rather like him, but he insists on remaining distant. Comes in, cooks his divine food, and then off he goes back to Mummy. He’s such an unknown, don’t you think? Such an enigma. Do you think Mummy exists or do you think he has a wifelet and a whole brood of stunning, dark-eyed children secreted in some hovel in Honiton?’
Livvy laughed, she couldn’t help it. ‘I’ve no idea. When I interviewed him he said his ill mother was what had brought him back here to the UK. I’ve no reason to disbelieve him.’
‘Really, haven’t you?’
Livvy looked at her. ‘I didn’t think I had.’ She glanced quickly to the door. It was firmly shut; they couldn’t be overheard. Taking a deep breath, she launched into an explanation of the problem Bernie had discovered.
CHAPTER 35
Prosecco – an Italian sparkling or semi-sparkling wine,
perfect for parties
Simona wouldn’t hear of the party being cancelled. She agreed with Livvy that it was a way of sticking up two metaphorical fingers at whoever was doing the vandalising. She also promised to keep a close eye on who might have a hand in the till. ‘Trust me,’ she’d said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘Everyone writes me off as a dumb blonde. It has its advantages to be thought stupid. No one takes any notice of me.’ Giggling, she’d added, ‘I get to see all sorts of things!’
At six thirty Livvy and Simona were shivering in Livvy’s frigid bedroom, high up in The George, primping their party outfits.
It had taken Livvy some soul-searching to decide what to wear. For a working day she stuck to black trousers, a white shirt and comfortable shoes, a legacy of her time working in hotels. Dull but practical when you spent the whole time on your feet. She was desperate to wear the dress Simona had given her butpart of her longed to wear it for the first time when Mark would have a chance to see it. He’d never really seen her dressed up. Even at the church service, she’d had her close-fitting wool dress covered up by a coat. Then she decided. It went against her beliefs to dress up for a man; she’d dress for her own satisfaction and wear her new, gorgeous, glittering gown for herself. Having washed and deep conditioned her hair, she let Simona help her put it into a messy, sophisticated updo with casual tendrils escaping onto her neck. It certainly made a change from her usual ponytail. Simona had also, over a couple of glasses of Prosecco, painted her nails a deep velvety red.
‘It’s so lovely to have some girly time,’ she whispered, as she admired Livvy’s nails. ‘You’re going to be the belle of the ball, kitten. You look like a real diva!’
‘That’s what I’ll do then. Embrace my inner diva.’ Livvy giggled.
‘You, a diva? Darling, that’s about as far from you as could possibly be.’
Livvy grinned. ‘That’s the point. And, may I say how glam you look in your white dress.’
