‘He is. But he knows his stuff. Said on the phone that he’s pushed this lot in today as he knew someone was interested but couldn’t bid until later in the week. If you want it, now’s your chance.’
Livvy took her time. There were about twenty or so tables. All slightly different designs but the same height. None of the chairs matched either and were a collection of spindle-backed kitchen chairs, and solid more formal ones which she could use in the restaurant. Importantly, although they were of different types, they too were the same height and type of wood. Someone, when originally buying, had had a keen eye for design. The furniture,although mismatched, went together perfectly. Put in the bar and restaurant, it would create exactly the look she had in mind. Unfussy, understated and practical. Running a hand over the scrubbed pine table nearest her, she visualised it all in her pub. No table linen needed, fat sputtering candles in the restaurant, some good quality table mats, wooden maybe or slate. She shuddered as she thought of the ones with hunting scenes that had been thrown into the skip that morning. Excitement bubbled. She might, after all, achieve what she was after.
Looking up, she became aware of Mark studying her. ‘Any good?’
‘Perfect,’ she breathed. ‘Just perfect.’
CHAPTER 7
Strong English Breakfast tea – best served in a plain half pint mug and ideally accompanied by bacon and eggs.
Over the best full English she’d ever eaten, in the greasy spoon attached to the auction hall, she found out a little more about Mark. He was thirty-eight, had parents who lived in York and a younger sister who lived in London. He spent the majority of his time in Lullbury and worked remotely but went up to London about twice a month.
‘I stay with sis,’ he added. ‘Works well. She’s an actor so isn’t there too much of the time.’ He went on to list some of his sister’s work.
‘Oh, I know her! She was in that hit thriller on the BBC last year, wasn’t she?’ Livvy went a bit starstruck. Mark, despite his claim to be a boring accountant, and his sibling, both seemed impossibly glamorous. ‘She was fantastic in it.’
‘Natalie’s really talented,’ he agreed. ‘She keeps trying the States but it’s hard to break into film or TV over there.’
‘So exciting.’
‘As is taking over a pub and restaurant.’ Mark put down his knife and fork with a satisfied sigh and slid his empty plate to one side. ‘They do a good breakfast here.’
‘Agreed.’ Livvy took in her surroundings. It was a utilitarian place, as boxy and bland as the auction house, but it was busy, hummed with good-natured banter punctuated by a noisy coffee machine and smelled enticingly of bacon. Now and again, when there was a lull in the chatter, Bay Radio could be heard playing cheesy Christmas pop songs. The only other concession to the upcoming season was a small, decorated tree on the counter flanked by a Father Christmas figure which lit up and danced whenever anyone went by.
‘I don’t think I could eat another thing. Would you like the last piece of toast?’ When she refused, he asked, after a pause, ‘Tell me, I can’t help but be curious. How does a woman like you, obviously talented, ambitious and hard-working but who openly admits to not being able to cook, want to open a restaurant?’
Livvy also put down her cutlery. Out of habit, long engrained, she stacked her plate neatly on top of Mark’s, tidying the used knives and forks. She sipped her builder’s tea. Putting down the plain white china mug and admiring its simple pared-back style, she began, haltingly, to tell him about Gavin and how their plans had all gone wrong.
‘I’ve been brought up in the hotel trade. I’ve known it all my life. Mum and Dad only have the one place now but at one point owned a whole chain of hotels worldwide. I spent every summer working in a different one, gaining experience the hard way. Chambermaid, waiting tables, bar work. Then I wanted to break free for a while. Went off travelling, rattled around the world for a few years working in any hotel not owned by my parents, did a degree in history, rebelled a bit I suppose.’ She smiled. ‘As you do. And also, as you do, found out that a history degree and apassport full of stamps doesn’t necessarily lead you to the career of your dreams. Fell into a rather tedious office job in Stratford, funnily enough not far from my parents’ Cotswolds hotel.
‘And there I met Gavin. He cooked in the office canteen, but I could see he was talented. Some of his food was wasted on the workers. They just wanted a quick salad or toasted sandwich for lunch. Hisscallops au beurrewith black pudding was left untouched.’ She gave another smile at the memory of Gavin’s frustration. He only stayed in the job as he was asked to cater for the occasional works function when he could showcase his talents. So, we came up with a plan. I had some money released from its trust fund when I turned thirty. I had the experience in the hospitality trade, Gavin had the cheffing skills. Except–’
‘Except?’
Livvy didn’t speak for a moment. She wasn’t sure she could bear to. Twisting a lock of hair around her finger she listened as Michael Bublé sang ‘Jingle Bells’ on Bay Radio. Its jollity mocked her. Staring out through the windows misted with condensation, she finally answered. ‘He ran out on me at the last moment. We were about to go in and do the exam which you have to pass to obtain your publican’s licence.’ She gave a dry laugh at the memory. ‘Can you imagine, all my experience in the trade and I didn’t actually have a publican’s licence? We were standing on the steps about to go into the town hall and he said he couldn’t go through with it.’ Livvy peered disconsolately into her empty mug. ‘I’m still not sure if it was me or the pub he ran out on.’
A silence descended. A curvy, comfortable-looking woman collected their plates, replacing them with two coffees and a parcel wrapped loosely in a holly patterned serviette. ‘Never too early for your first mince pie,’ she said, grinning broadly. ‘Make a wish on ’em, don’t forget.’
Mark expressed his thanks and opened the serviette. The warm aroma of spice and nutmeg drifted up in the steam from four mince pies. ‘Can you manage one?’
‘It’s not too long until Christmas.’ Livvy smiled. ‘I think we’re honour bound. And it will be my first so I’m definitely going to make a wish.’ Biting into one, she closed her eyes and wished her new pub success. When she opened them again, Mark was staring. ‘What was your wish?’
‘Don’t think they come true if you tell.’ Unexpectedly, he took Livvy’s hand, releasing it almost immediately. Pausing, he sucked in a deep breath, but all he said was, ‘You’re very brave to take all this on alone. I admire you for it.’ Then he added, on a more upbeat note, ‘Well, you’ve got your pub but at the moment it’s extremely empty. We’d better go and buy you some furniture then, hadn’t we?’
Livvy once again sank back on the luxurious passenger seat in Mark’s car. They were making the return journey to Lullbury Bay. The auction had been tense, exciting and successful.
‘Happy?’ Mark glanced across as he changed gear.
‘Completely. The furniture is exactly what I was looking for.’ Livvy grinned. ‘And I can’t believe we got it at such a knock-down price too.’
‘I thought that bloke at the back was going to keep bidding but he chickened out.’
‘All the better for me,’ Livvy said smugly. ‘And it’s fantastic that Craig is willing to store it all until the pub is refurbed.’
‘He’s a good bloke. Might cost you a few white wines on the house though.’
‘That I can do.’ She looked across to Mark with affection. ‘Thank you for today. It’s really helped me out. One huge step forward with my plans.’
