by Heidi Swain
‘I’m wondering if I should have an aquarium in here,’ she said when she came to collect my empty plate, ‘full of tropical fish. This place is such a contrast to what folk expect to find on the Norfolk coast, that I’m wondering if I should just run with the theme and take it to the next level.’
I could certainly confirm that it was different.
‘The next level sounds like an excellent idea to me,’ I agreed. ‘Especially if you keep making curried crab. That whole fusion idea is fantastic.’
Sophie’s beautiful dark eyes widened at my words and I wondered what other delights she was cooking up.
‘Can I have a sheet of paper from your notebook, Tess?’ she asked urgently.
‘Of course,’ I said, tearing a page out from the back.
‘What is it that you’re working on?’ she asked, once she had finished frantically scribbling. ‘You’ve been beavering away all morning. Are you writing a book?’
‘No,’ I laughed, ‘it’s for Sam, actually.’
‘Sam?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He’s agreed to let me come up with some ideas for an evening of entertainment in the pub over the bank holiday weekend. We’re working on it together.’
‘Seriously?’ Sophie gasped.
‘Seriously,’ I laughed.
‘But won’t you be gone before then?’
‘Sam has said I can rent the cottage for a few extra weeks,’ I told her, ‘now I’m staying in Wynmouth until the end of June.’
‘My goodness,’ she beamed. ‘That’s wonderful news, but I have to say, I’m a little shocked.’
‘Shocked?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Sam was determined the cottage was coming off the holiday market. Whatever did you say to make him change his mind?’
‘Nothing really,’ I told her, my cheeks starting to burn. ‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘And now he’s letting you help out at the pub too . . .’
I hoped she didn’t think I’d set my sights on the friendly local landlord. George’s loaded comment had already suggested that he had ideas in that direction and I didn’t want Sophie joining in too.
‘Anyway,’ she thankfully carried on, ‘what have you got on your list so far?’
‘Not as much as I’d like,’ I said, happily grasping the change in subject. ‘To be honest, and I know you’ll hate me for it, but I would have loved to do an online search to firm up some of these suggestions. Unfortunately, I haven’t got my phone on me.’
‘Well, I suppose I can help you there,’ said Sophie, ducking down under the counter and then popping back up clasping a brightly coloured patchworked quilted bag. ‘You can use my laptop if you like. It would be good for it to get an airing before Hope comes back and tells me off for not using it.’
‘Goodness me, Sophie,’ I laughed. ‘You have a solution for everything, don’t you?’
‘More often than not,’ she smiled warmly. ‘More often than not.’
Chapter 7
Sophie very kindly said I could take the laptop back to the cottage if I wanted to and, even though the offer was both generous and thoughtful (classic Sophie traits, I was beginning to realize), I decided not to accept. I had really had to force myself to stay focused during the afternoon in the café, and I had still struggled to eschew my inbox and avoid social media. Left alone with the device overnight, I didn’t think I could trust myself not to give in to temptation. My phone was proving difficult enough.
‘We’ll have to get our heads together and have a look at these plans of yours,’ said Sam as he served my dinner on Sunday. ‘Sophie tells me you’ve got a notebook full of ideas.’
I looked over to the bar and Sophie gave me an encouraging thumbs up. I hadn’t been able to resist heading back to the pub after I’d seen the board advertising the traditional roast during my walk and I was now sitting at a table with George and his sister, Gladys, poised to tuck into the biggest and crispiest Yorkshire puddings I’d ever seen.
‘Oh, she mentioned that, did she?’ I said, looking up at him and completely forgetting my former conviction to stop admiring his eyes.
‘Just once or twice,’ he laughed.
‘And even if Sophie, hadn’t,’ said Gladys, reaching for the horseradish, ‘he still would have known you’d taken his offer to help out seriously, wouldn’t you, Sam?’
‘I’ll say,’ Sam confirmed. ‘Somehow word has got around,’ he explained, ‘and half the village now knows that you’re the one who has talked me into doing something.’
‘You said she’d nagged you into it a minute ago,’ cut in George.
‘Is that right?’ I laughed.
‘Maybe,’ Sam smiled, turning a little pink. ‘I take it you happened to mention something about it on your shopping trip yesterday, Tess?’
Now it was my turn to colour.
‘I did,’ I admitted, ‘but I didn’t say anything to suggest that I was involved in the organization.’
‘That’s village life for you,’ Gladys beamed.
‘I was simply trying to work out if anyone would come,’ I went on.
‘And?’ Sam asked.
‘You’ll be inundated,’ I told him. ‘Everyone was thrilled with the idea.’
I didn’t mention that they were also surprised.
‘And you already know that really, don’t you, Sam?’ joined in George as he surreptitiously fed Skipper a morsel of beef under the table, ‘because you’ve had folk coming in all morning asking if they need to buy tickets.’
Sam nodded.
‘We’ll talk later,’ he said to me, ‘after I’ve finished the lunches.’
*
‘So,’ I grinned, once the rush had died down and Sam had a couple of minutes to spare, ‘that’s a definite no to the selection of seaside shots party games then.’
It wasn’t the first thing he had vetoed. So far, he’d managed to blackball all the things I had added purely for my own amusement.
‘Absolutely,’ he said firmly. ‘We don’t want folk to drink too much.’
That had to be the oddest thing I’d ever heard a pub landlord say.
‘May I just remind you,’ I said, pointing to the bar and the range of optics behind it, ‘that this is a pub and people do actually come here to drink alcohol.’
‘I know,’ he shrugged, offering no further explanation for his strange comment.
‘Okay then,’ I sighed once we had worked our way through all of his ideas as well as mine. ‘You really are determined that traditional is the right way to go, aren’t you?’
What he had in mind sounded a bit staid to me, but then he knew the locals better than I did, even if he hadn’t noticed that they were crying out for some form of entertainment.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘definitely. This is just the sort of thing everyone will be hoping for.’
If it was up to me, that would have been the perfect reason to give them something a bit different. I was just about to say as much when Sam leant back in his chair and gave the biggest yawn and I changed my mind. He looked absolutely exhausted.
‘You know what,’ I said tapping my pencil on the list, ‘I think you’re right. This has the potential to be a really great night.’
‘Even though it’s nothing like the Ibiza-style extravaganza you were hoping for?’ Sam asked, leaning forward again.
‘Even though it’s not quite what I imagined when you first asked if I’d help,’ I conceded, ‘I do think you’re on the right track. What we’ve got here will suit this place perfectly.’
‘Now all the pair of you have to do,’ said Sophie, as she carried over a tray of coffee, ‘is organize it. Do you think you can pull it off in time?’
Sam picked up the notepad and let out a long breath.
‘Of course,’ I said forthrightly. ‘No problem.’
‘You sound very sure about that,’ he said, putting the pad back down and stretching his arms above his head, treating me to a tantalizing glimpse of torso in the proces
s.
‘That’s because I am,’ I swallowed, my mouth had suddenly gone dry. ‘We can do this standing on our heads.’
‘We’ve literally got just five days,’ Sam reminded me, holding up his right hand to further stress the point. He sounded nowhere near as confident as I hoped he would. ‘And now everyone knows that something’s going to be happening, we can’t let them down.’
‘We won’t let anyone down,’ I told him. ‘Just you wait and see.’
*
As it turned out, given the nature of what Sam had agreed to, there really wasn’t all that much to arrange. The difficulty for him came down to timing so, having noticed how tired he was on Sunday, I took over most of the organization and simply asked for his approval as we went along.
My body clock was still firmly fixed in work mode so getting up bright and early every day was no problem, especially as I was determined to make sure everything ran like clockwork and exceeded expectations. There might not have been all that much to do when I got down to it, but the project ensured my mind tracked back to thoughts of my phone and my father’s reaction to my disappearance far less than it had when I first arrived. I was resisting the temptation of Mum’s diary too. I hadn’t forgotten about any of it, I was just putting it all on hold for a little while longer.
By Tuesday lunchtime everything was booked and I had even designed a poster on Sophie’s laptop. I’d printed off plenty too so I could pin them up around the village.
‘Does Sam know about this?’ Sophie gasped, as she pointed out the name of the group listed, rather grandly, as headlining the event.
‘Not yet,’ I grinned, feeling well pleased with my efforts. ‘He knew there were a few names in the hat because he’d approved them, but I haven’t told him who I managed to get. These guys are a big deal, right?’
‘Just a bit!’ she exclaimed, reading the poster again.
‘That’s what I thought when I searched for them on your laptop.’ I told her. ‘I didn’t want to get Sam’s hopes up but they’re definitely coming. I can’t wait to see his face when he reads this.’
‘You’ve certainly delivered, Tess.’ Sophie said admiringly. ‘I know Sam cajoled you into helping at first, but you really seem to know your stuff. Is this what you do in real life, when you’re not on holiday?’
‘Oh no,’ I told her. ‘This is purely a one-off.’
There was no denying that my marketing degree and work skills had helped, but organizing this event had been so much fun it bore absolutely no resemblance to my real job, the one that I had become so disheartened with.
‘Well,’ Sophie said, handing back the poster, ‘perhaps you should consider a change of career, because you seem to have a knack for this.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘maybe I should.’
I could imagine exactly what my father would have to say about that. Even though I was doing my best not to think about him he was still, annoyingly and in spite of my best efforts, popping into my head. I hoped Chris was doing a good enough job to make up for my absence from the office.
‘Anyway,’ I said, gathering up the posters. ‘I had better get these to the pub. I can’t put them up without the boss’s approval, can I?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Sophie winked. ‘But you might as well leave a couple here with me as I’m certain he’ll love them.’
I slipped off my sandals and walked back to the village along the sand. Considering I had been craving the beach, I hadn’t spent all that long on it. I had been taking walks every evening before bed, but I still hadn’t ventured over to the beach huts or to the rockpools. Thankfully, my extended stay meant there would be plenty of time for all that after the weekend.
*
‘The Sea Dogs!’ Sam shouted, making me jump. ‘You’ve actually managed to get the Sea Dogs?’
He had looked a little nervous when I first handed him the poster, but the more he had read, the wider his eyes had got and now he was looking completely astounded.
‘Yep,’ I nodded, ‘and before you start going off on one about not being able to afford them, the event they should have been headlining was cancelled at the last minute so they’re coming here for a reduced fee that easily fits your budget.’
It had taken some serious negotiating on my part, but nonetheless their final terms had been generous and, having researched them and realized just what a big deal the sea-shanty singing group were, I had wasted no time in snapping them up. I was more than confident that they would be such a draw that the evening’s takings would easily balance the books.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Sam breathed. ‘I can’t believe we’ve organized all of this in just a few days. You’ve organized it, I mean.’
‘Joint effort,’ I shrugged, picking up another poster, ‘you were the one with the best ideas and this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You said traditional, so that’s what you’ve got, along with a couple of extras.’
The weather forecast was looking good so I had also been able to plan a few things to happen in the beer garden which was just behind the pub.
‘I have no idea how you’ve managed to get this lot at these prices.’ Sam said, now looking at the handwritten fishmonger’s and butcher’s bills.
‘Like I’ve already mentioned, everyone was so keen for this to happen that they were happy to shave their profits. I daresay it will be a one-off though, so you need to make the most of it.’
Even though the budget Sam had given me was tight, I had managed to make it work without too much pleading. Such was their fondness for him, the business owners had been extraordinarily generous.
‘I’m going to have to find staff though,’ he frowned, chewing his lip. ‘If this is going to be as well attended as you’re suggesting, then I’ll need more hands to help out.’
‘Don’t worry about that either,’ I told him. ‘I’ve been inundated with offers and all on a voluntary basis.’
The butcher was going to set up his barbecue in the beer garden, which was also where a bar skittles tournament was going to be happening, and Sophie was going to make an >extra-special seafood chowder in the kitchen which would need nothing more than the occasional stir to keep it warm and ready to serve.
Sam was looking a little emotional by the time I had finished explaining how everyone had been so willing to help out.
‘I didn’t even have to ask,’ I told him, ‘everyone just offered to pitch in.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ he said huskily, for what must have been the hundredth time.
I had no idea why he was so surprised that everyone wanted to help. Not only were they in dire need of some pub fun, but they all felt a genuine affection for him and clearly wanted the event to succeed. It amazed me that Sam didn’t realize just how popular he was.
‘And this from George,’ he went on, ‘what a way to end the evening. I knew he was collecting local stories for a book he’s planning to write, but to have him sit and tell them will be wonderful. A real old-school tradition.’
George had come to the cottage on Sunday evening and explained that he had spent much of his time in Wynmouth collecting home-grown tales – legends, fables, ghost stories and the like – and that if I needed something to fill in any gaps on the schedule, then he would happily tell a few to anyone who would want to listen. Personally, I couldn’t think of a more atmospheric way to end the evening and had signed him up there and then.
‘So,’ I said, my eyes tracking back to Sam, ‘you’re happy with everything? No regrets about letting the latest Wynmouth arrival boss you about?’
Sam started to laugh.
‘More than happy,’ he said, ducking his head. ‘And I’m sorry if I came across as a bit judgemental about how you want to spend your holiday. I know myself how difficult it can be to switch off and you said yourself, you’re a workaholic so it must be even harder for you.’
Then was not the moment to explain that I had come to Wynmouth with more on my mind that simply switching off from work.
‘Not at all,’ I said, meaning every word. ‘I’ve really enjoyed it and if the evening is even half the success I imagine it’s going to be, then it will be a night to remember.’
Sam’s eyes scanned the poster again.
‘You’re not wrong,’ he agreed, his emotional moment now forgotten and his smile firmly back in place. ‘You know, I can’t believe that you’ve only been here a few days. It feels like so much longer to me. You seem so settled and at home.’
I felt my heart start to canter in my chest.
‘Well,’ I said, clearing my throat, ‘it’s impossible to feel anything but at home in Wynmouth, isn’t it?’
Chapter 8
That Saturday morning, I held my breath as I pulled back the curtains, but I needn’t have worried. The forecast had been right; the weather was looking cheerfully wonderful and I couldn’t wait for the day to get started.
Practically from the moment the posters had been put up around the village, Sam had been inundated with folk telling him how much they were looking forward to the evening. In fact, it had proved itself to be so eagerly anticipated that he had decided to kick everything off even earlier than we had initially arranged and that was why I was so relieved about the weather.
Wynmouth was, surprisingly, a hotbed of young musical talent and Sam had agreed to let two star turns sing in the beer garden during the afternoon. They were both solo artists so there was no complicated setting up or acoustic arrangements to worry about and their presence would warm the atmosphere up nicely for the main event in the evening. They were both happy to sing for nothing – aside from their supper – and said the experience and exposure would be wonderful as they were trying to get established locally.