Page 30 of New Beginnings at the Little Christmas Inn
And yet! Such joy!
Her gaze alights upon this soul
The bright orbs heateth my form.
Love claims its mystic fee
And captures mine heart within me.
One or two words had been scribbled out and replaced. It had obviously been a work in progress and Livvy found it touching. At the bottom of the page, was a date. It was written in pencil and faded with age, almost indecipherable: December eighteen something. Was that the year the couple had met? The early nineteenth century, a time when The George would have been at its height as a coaching inn.
With mounting excitement, Livvy realised she had in her hands the evidence of a romance. A memory flickered. Hadn’t Mark said the pub had been named after some runaway lovers? Had this little book belonged to one of them? As she turned the back pages, something slipped out. It was a coil of hair. So dark as to be almost black but still with its reddish lights in place.
Then she heard it. A thump. Dropping the book with a start, she froze. Another thump but this time a slighter sound. The noises were coming from the car park. The security lights flared to life. She jumped a foot as the kitchen door rattled. Fear licked icily down her spine.
And then a surge of white-hot fury raged through her. How dare someone muck about in her car park? Teenagers again. She remembered how she’d felt watched as she locked up after the skittles match. Anger blazed within her. She could ignore them and go back to bed but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. No, she needed to do something about this. There was no one else here and it was her pub, so it was up to her to sort it.
Flinging open the kitchen door she yelled, ‘Whoever you are and whatever you think you’re up to, you need to get the fuck away now or I’m calling the police!’
The car park appeared empty. The newly repaired lights were merciless and shone into every corner. She turned to return to the kitchen. It was cold out here and she was dressed only in her dressing gown and slippers. As she did so, she could swear she heard the scuffle of feet running away. The little bastards!
CHAPTER 19
Hot chocolate – gained in popularity recently, especially at Christmas. Ideal when in need of comfort and warmth.
Livvy needed to get away from the pub for a while. Despite trying to shrug it off, the incident in the early hours had shaken her. Plus, she’d been eating, sleeping, living the pub ever since she’d taken over and it was beginning to feel all a bit too much.
As soon as it was properly light, she drove into Exeter. The air was satisfyingly crisp and seasonal as she climbed into the van and she tuned into Bay Radio which blasted out some cheesy Christmas hits. She sang along to ‘Step into Christmas’ as she turned down the hill to drive through town to hit the main road west.
She needed to hunt down a Christmas present for her father and hadn’t found any inspiration on the internet. What she craved was a good browse through a department store. After tracking down a parking spot big enough to take the van, allthe time wishing she’d taken the park and ride, she found herself in the civilised atmosphere of John Lewis. Enjoying the Christmassy muzak and the tastefully decorated white Christmas trees dotted about she discovered some cashmere scarves in the menswear department. She wondered if she should get Mark something. It was tricky; she’d only known him a few short weeks, but he already felt like a good friend.
‘Christmas shopping?’
She turned with a jolt. It was Jason Lemmon. ‘Oh hello.’ There was something about him which unnerved her. Maybe it was because everything about him was pale. There was no warmth to the man. Prematurely greyed hair, icily pale blue eyes, the whitest of skin.
He lifted a carrier bag. ‘Me too.’ Grimacing, he added, ‘I like to get it all done well before the day. Have you much to buy?’
‘Not really.’ Livvy shook her head. ‘Think I’ve got presents for my mother. The difficult one is my dad. I never know what to get him.’
‘Men are tricky to buy for, I agree.’ Jason gave a charming smile. ‘I’m afraid I’ve given up with my parents, they insist they don’t need anything, so I take them for a decent meal somewhere instead. Gives us time to catch up a little, too.’
‘What a good idea.’ Livvy warmed to him. ‘Much better than spending loads on something unsuitable.’
‘I entirely agree.’ Jason blinked his pale eyes slowly. ‘And, of course, I get to enjoy the treat too. I’m considering bringing them to The Runaways, or should I say, The George, this year.’
‘And we’d be delighted to host you all.’
‘So, what does your father like to do? Has he any hobbies? I might be able to suggest something.’
Livvy shook her head again. ‘He was always too busy running the hotel chain to have any hobbies. Now he’s semi-retired, although not as retired as Mum would like him to be, they’vedeveloped a new career.’ When Jason raised an elegant brow in query, she added, ‘They like to cruise. Preferably somewhere hot and sunny.’
‘In that case, I may have the perfect solution to your present buying quandary.’ He took her arm gently and propelled her to a corner of the store.
After Jason’s help with her shopping, it seemed churlish to refuse his offer of coffee so she allowed him to lead the way to nearby Gandy Street. A narrow, medieval thoroughfare, full of trendy shops, bars and cafés, it thronged with Christmas shoppers. White lights were strung across the lane; the short December day was growing gloomy, a sea fret beginning to gather. The lights cheered everything. Livvy made a vow to buy yet more for the pub. It was a dark time of year.
They settled in the first coffee shop they came across. The café was heaving with Christmas shoppers, but Jason hovered over a table where two women were idling over their empty cups and something about his presence made them move.
Livvy eased into her seat wedged against the wall and looked around while they waited for the waiter to take their order. On each table was a hideous red and green lamp in the shape of a Christmas troll. Red and purple foil garlands hung in heavy swags all around the walls, festooned with flashing multi-coloured fairy lights and dangling gold lanterns. Covering each large window looking out onto the street were light curtains shimmering lime green and pink. Two corners were dominated by enormous fake trees smothered in vivid pink and white fluffy decorations and with yet more flashing fairy lights. It was Christmas but with added punk. If you entered without a migraine, you’d have a fairly good chance of leaving with one.
