Christmas at the Dog & Duck

by Jill Steeples

  ‘Well done, love,’ he said, giving me a squeeze around my shoulder. ‘You’ve worked bloomin’ hard tonight. Not sure how we’d manage here without you.’

  I smiled, grateful for Eric’s appreciation. I wondered if I should mention that I might not be around much longer. That I might be heading back to London. Not that I was under misapprehension that I was indispensable. If it wasn’t me pulling pints then there were plenty of others waiting to fill my place. Who knew, though, there might not even be a job here for me much longer.

  ‘Do you have to rush off?’ he asked.

  ‘No, not at all,’ I said cheerily, even though I was desperate to fall in to my bed. I was much more desperate to know what the gossip was. Luckily I didn’t have any plans until tomorrow afternoon so I could look forward to a lie-in.

  ‘Fancy a nightcap?’

  Eric made two milky coffees and poured a nip of brandy into each of them. We took the coffees and went and sat on the wooden pew in the front bar. I tucked a cushion beneath my bottom and one behind my back and kicked off my shoes, grateful to get the weight off my feet. I took a small tentative sip of my coffee, the alcohol blazing a trail down my chest.

  ‘You’ve heard the news,’ he said, with a wry smile on his face. Eric seemed remarkably blasé about this latest turn of events.

  ‘About Max buying the pub? Yes, Johnny told me. I still can’t quite believe it. I’m so cross with Max. That he didn’t mention anything, even when we had dinner together.’ I paused, hearing the words tumbling from me. ‘What do you think about it?’

  ‘Well, we knew someone was going to buy it. To my mind, I’d rather someone I know buy the place than a complete stranger or a big chain.’

  ‘Yes, but you know what Max has done with the other pubs he’s bought in the past? He’s done them up and sold them as houses.’

  Eric nodded and lifted his coffee cup to his mouth. ‘Not this time though. I’ve talked it all through with Max and he wants to keep the place as a pub. Good news, eh?’

  ‘Really?’ I heard the note of surprise in my own voice.

  ‘Yep.’

  I’d imagined this conversation with Eric, played out the different scenarios over in my head, how we’d both be suitably outraged at Max’s temerity at coming in from outside the village and having the audacity to think he could take over the pub, our pub. Our outrage at what he might do with the historic building. Not once had I imagined that there would be a positive outcome to the scenario. Had I completely over-reacted and misread the whole situation? It wouldn’t be the first time. Mind you, if it was such good news, as Eric was suggesting, why wasn’t he jumping up and down with excitement?

  I curled my hands around my cup and took another sip of coffee. The brandy was going down well. At this rate, I might need another one.

  ‘So, you’re absolutely certain, Max doesn’t intend changing the use of the pub?’ I still couldn’t believe I wasn’t getting the full story here.

  ‘As certain as I can be.’

  ‘Wow, I can’t quite believe it. And where does that leave you, Eric? Does Max want you to stay on as landlord or has he got other plans?’

  ‘No, he came round earlier today. We had a long chat. He wants to keep things running just the same as they always have. Business as usual.’

  ‘Well that’s terrific news,’ I said, feeling a pang of guilt that I’d ever maligned Max and his intentions in the first place. Still though, Eric appeared thoughtful, contemplative. Not how I would have expected him to be - there was something he wasn't telling me.

  ‘Fancy another coffee?’ he asked, standing to clear the cups.

  ‘Yes please,’ I said, getting up to join him. ‘And you’re happy with that arrangement, Eric?’ I probed.

  He turned round to face me, his arms behind him, resting back on the kitchen worktop. ‘Look, Ellie, with all the uncertainty over the last couple of months and whether or not I still had a future here, it’s given me time to think.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘The thing is I’ve decided that it’s time for me to leave the pub. Seeing your mum again and hearing what a great time she and Harry are having out in Dubai brought it home to me. There’s a whole other world out there that I should be exploring. I’m still young enough and fit enough to travel, enjoy life, maybe meet someone new. I feel ready to do that now. I want to take advantage of those possibilities while I still can.’

  I watched as he opened the brandy, pouring a bigger glug this time into our coffees. He handed me my cup and we wandered back and settled ourselves on the pew again, me still reeling from what I thought Eric was trying to tell me.

  ‘And this has got nothing to do with Max?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’d made up my mind before I even knew Max was buying the place.’

  ‘Crikey.’ My shoulders slumped and I heard a sigh escape my lips. First Mum and Dad had moved away to begin a new life, then Johnny and Polly had come together and were in the delicious throes of new love, Max was blazing a trail in his own single-minded way, and now Eric was wanting to break away and make a new life for himself. I couldn't help feeling as though I was being left behind. ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’

  ‘Me neither. But things can’t stay the same forever, Ellie. I realize that now. Circumstances change. People change. It’s time for me to move on.’

  Oh God! Eric said it so matter-of-factly, as though it was of little consequence. To me, it felt as though my whole world had shifted beneath my feet.

  ‘Right.’ I clasped onto my coffee cup as though it was a lifeline. All the time I’d been panicking that an outsider was going to come in and change the face of the pub forever when in the end Eric had decided to call it a day. That meant my future at the pub would now lie in the hands of Max Golding, the last person in the world I’d want deciding my fate. ‘You know you’ll be playing straight into Max’s hands by walking away. He won’t have any obligation to keep it running as a pub if you’re not going to be around.’

  ‘Ellie!’ He scolded me with a disapproving look. ‘I’m sure he won’t. He told me he wants to keep the pub going and I’ve no reason not to believe him.’

  ‘Hmmm, well I’m not sure I share your faith in Max Golding.’ Maybe Max was much cleverer than we all thought. Perhaps he’d been banking on Eric leaving and that’s why he told him they’d keep things running the same as they always had. The way things seemed at the moment, I wouldn't put it past him.

  ‘Don’t make me feel guilty about this, Ellie. Just give Max a chance. I know you must be worried about what it means for you, but I’m sure you’ll still have a job here with Max as the owner.’

  My gaze flitted around the pub, taking in the wood-panelled walls, the comfy chairs and tables, the countryside scenes on the wall mingling with caricatures. All so familiar, all so reassuring.

  ‘Oh Eric, it’s not about me at all. I don’t care about my job. It’s more about the pub and what it will mean for the local community.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, Ellie. I’d hate to see the pub close just as much as you would, probably more so, but I can’t put my life on hold just in case that might happen one day. Max has assured me that he’ll keep the pub running as it is for now, but what happens months or years down the line, who knows? None of us do. I’ve given the best years of my life to this place. And now it’s time for me to do what I want to do while I still can.’

  I looked across into Eric’s kindly eyes and felt a fluttering of shame. I reached over and grabbed his hand. ‘No, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I didn’t. You’ve been amazing. And you’ve done so much for this place. I would never begrudge you doing what you want to do now. No way. You deserve to get out there and have a good time and find some happiness. I guess I’m just being selfish. If it was up to me I’d like everything to stay the same as it’s always been.’

  Eric squeezed my hand, a rueful smile on his lips. ‘Change doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know.’

  ‘No, I know. I’m sure
everything will work out fine,’ I said, not really believing my own words. ‘Everyone’s going to miss you so much though. Me especially.’

  ‘And I’m going to miss you too, but I’ll still be around. You won’t get rid of me that easily. Thought I might find a little cottage in the village as a base for when I come home from my travelling. I’ll go and visit your mum and dad first.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep.’ His face lit up in a wide mile. ‘Your mum did an amazing sales job on Dubai.’

  ‘Oh right, so I have her to blame for all of this,’ I teased.

  ‘Not entirely.’ He paused, his gaze drifting out the window, clearly already off on his travels. ‘And then I fancy going inter-railing around Europe for a couple of months. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back regularly to check up on Josie and Stella, and you of course, and to see how this place is doing. I’m looking forward to sitting this side of the bar with my old mates and catching up on the news.’

  ‘Hmm, you make it sound wonderful,’ I said, with a sigh. I glanced at my watch and groaned. ‘Crikey, look at the time, I should get a move on.’

  Eric stood up and opened his arms up to me for a hug. ‘We’re still good, aren’t we, Ells?’

  ‘Too true,’ I said, burying myself into Eric’s broad chest. Whatever my feelings about the pub, my relationship with Eric was much more important.

  ‘And don’t worry about the pub. It’s been standing a few hundred years, long before we were even thought of, and I’m sure it will still be standing long after we’re gone too.’

  Perhaps Eric had a point. All things come to their natural end and Eric had decided it was time for him to end his association with the pub. Maybe it was time for me to move on too. Hopefully, the pub would always play an important role in the village, and we would always have our memories of the special times spent there.

  I kissed Eric goodbye and closed the door of the pub behind me, glad to be out in the cool night air. I looked up at the faded sign of the dog and duck swinging in the cool evening breeze and shivered, pulling my jacket over my shoulders. As I started on my walk home, I pulled out my phone from my pocket and turned it on to check my messages. Almost immediately it rang and for a fleeting moment I thought it might be Rhoda calling to say they’d made a mistake and they hadn’t meant to offer me the job at all. But then I realized it was hardly likely, considering it was half past midnight. Max’s name flashed on my screen instead and I felt a stab of regret. Had I been too hasty in my treatment of him? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. I was far too exhausted and, just at that moment, emotional as well. I switched my phone off. I’d think about Max Golding tomorrow.

  Twenty-Nine

  It was becoming a habit, a most annoying one. A loud banging on the door rousing me from my bed at some unearthly hour. I rolled over and waved an arm around, trying to find the clock. I picked it up and glared at it accusingly. Eugh. 8.30 a.m. on a day when I could quite legitimately stay in bed until midday. What sort of crazy person was hammering at my door at this time. Muttering under my breath, I pulled on some clothes and padded downstairs, hoping it wasn’t a dog with an emergency walk requirement. Just as soon as I got rid of whoever it was, I’d make myself a mug of tea and climb back into bed.

  I pulled open my front door to find Max Golding.

  ‘Morning!’

  He stood on the doorstep looking obscenely handsome for first thing in the morning – oh God – was that even allowed? I steeled myself, trying to keep a cool head and attempting to work out what exactly Max was playing at, but whenever I saw him like this I couldn’t help but give in a little.

  He clutched a bottle of champagne in one hand and a wicker basket full of goodies in the other. I couldn’t stop myself from peering over to look inside at the contents spilling over: yoghurts, fresh orange juice, croissants, cinnamon and orange muffins, jams, strawberries and melon. His gaze ran up and down my trackies, a fetching shade of washed-out blue today, and took in my mussed-up hair and sleep-deprived, make-up-free face.

  ‘Don’t tell me you forgot about our breakfast meeting?’

  ‘What breakfast meeting?’

  ‘The one I would have told you about if only you’d picked up the phone to me yesterday?’

  I crossed my arms huffily in front of my chest, twisting my mouth to stop the smile twitching at my lips. I was so angry at him, furious that he’d kept me in the dark about his plans to buy the pub and yet now, with him standing here in front of me, in all his romantic gorgeousness, everything was becoming so muddled in my head.

  ‘Yes, well I was very busy yesterday.’

  ‘I gathered that. Look, if you don't want to come out, can I at least come in? I just want to talk to you and bring you up to date on all the news.’

  Reluctantly, I pulled back the door to let Max through, wandering ahead of him to the kitchen and parking my bum on a kitchen stool. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to force myself awake. ‘I know it all already. You’ve bought the pub. Eric is leaving. The pub might stay as it is or else it might be transformed into a lovely home for some outsider coming into the village looking to find their country idyll. Not that I’m worried about that because no one else round here seems to be concerned, so why should I?’ I let out a deep breath. ‘What else is there to know?’

  ‘Are you working today?’ asked Max, totally ignoring my mini rant.

  ‘Later. This afternoon.’

  ‘Great. We can have some of this then,’ he said, proceeding to ease the cork from the champagne. ‘Some Bucks Fizz! Well it is almost Christmas.’ I laughed. Now we were nearing November, the weeks would fly by quickly enough. I hadn't really given it much thought until now, but maybe it was time for me to get my Christmas spirit out from the cupboard.

  I watched as he made himself at home in my kitchen amazed at his arrogance. I’d only let him in because I'd wanted to know one way or the other what his intentions were and here he was opening cupboards and pulling out glasses and bowls as if he owned the place. Clearly he was a man used to doing exactly what he wanted, where he wanted and when he wanted. He poured two glasses of champagne, topping up the fizz with fresh orange juice before handing one to me, our eyes locking for a moment, catching me off-guard, my body suddenly remembering what such a look had promised and delivered once before.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, stifling a yawn, wishing I’d been better prepared, half wishing I’d ignored the door and gone back to sleep. Then again, I would have missed Max in all his early-morning glory. In jeans and black polo shirt, he looked effortlessly stylish. Gorgeous, in fact. I swallowed hard, wondering how long it took him to perfect his ‘breakfast meeting’ look. I suspected he hadn’t even given it a second thought. Probably just fell out of bed looking like that. His mussed up hair oozed sexiness and my fingers twitched to run through it.

  What was I thinking? I gave myself a stern talking-to, remembering I had good reason to be irritated and annoyed at Max, and the way he’d treated me. Yes, I was very annoyed at him. Serious and grumpy face back on.

  From his basket he pulled out a checked tablecloth and laid it over the breakfast bar, along with all the goodies he’d brought along. I watched in awe as he laid out all the different items, although I pretended to be wholly unimpressed. I popped a strawberry into my mouth relishing its sweetness and washed it down with some champagne. It was hard to stay cross with someone when they were bribing you with such delightful treats.

  ‘I know I’ve upset you and I wanted to apologize, to make it up to you. I promise you there was no intention to mislead you or lie to you. Really.’

  He looked contrite enough, but if there was one thing I’d learned about Max in the short time that I’d known him it was that he was totally convincing and totally charming. The same charm he’d no doubt used in his extensive business dealings to date. It was part of what he did, part of who he was. The charm wasn’t for my benefit alone and I needed to remember that if I wasn’t to be swayed by it.


  ‘You knew how concerned I was about the pub and you didn’t say a thing. The other night when we had dinner together you could have mentioned something.’

  ‘Well the other night over dinner I had more pressing things on my mind.’

  His dark eyes flashed with desire as his gaze ran over my face.

  ‘See! That’s exactly what I mean. You’re evasive. I don’t like it when you’re not being straight with me. First you failed to mention you had a very attractive girlfriend waiting for you at home, then you forget to tell me you’d actually bought the local pub, the one where I work, the one you knew I had a vested interest in. I just don’t understand. What other secrets are you keeping from me, Max? Do you have a wife hidden away, three children at boarding school and a secret gambling addiction you haven’t told me about?’

  ‘Ah well, that thing I wanted to talk to you about…’ His dark eyebrows lifted, his brown eyes growing wide with amusement. I glowered at him, failing to see the funny side and he held up his hands in a gesture of defence. ‘I’m only kidding. No, I don’t have any of those things, I promise.’ He reached across and took hold of my hand. Part of me wanted to snatch it away again, but I was enjoying the physical contact too much. ‘There’ll be no more secrets. It’s unfortunate that you learned about Sasha and the pub the way you did, before I’d had a real chance to explain the situation and I apologize for that. I guess I’m a bit of a control freak. I like to get everything sorted and organized before showing my hand. I’ve done enough business deals to know that nothing is confirmed until the paperwork is signed. Things fall through at the last minute all the time. I was waiting for the contracts for The Dog and Duck to be signed before saying anything. That’s all it was.’

  He was looking at me intently while I distracted myself with a Danish pastry, littering crumbs over the worktop. It sounded convincing enough and Max was always so plausible. The trouble was my personal feelings for Max had got in the way of any logical thought process and I found it hard to think straight in his company. I found it hard to concentrate on anything but the look of him, the scent of him, the fact that his hand was still entwined with mine.