‘He’s alight, he’s alight!’ shouted Leo. Beth watched all her hard work become engulfed in flames and quickly blend into the rest of the bonfire. She breathed in the bonfire-scented air. It took her back to her childhood – a childhood that had been far simpler than Leo’s and she felt a pang of guilt for the poor decisions that had led to her and Leo constantly looking over their shoulders in a village miles from home.
Petra appeared and handed Simon and Jack something in a plastic pint tumbler. ‘Dark winter, it’s a real ale we’ve put on for tonight,’ she explained, and they took them gratefully. She soon returned with drinks and crisps for the boys and two smaller tumblers of wine for her and Beth.
‘Thanks,’ said Beth, taking the drink, ‘How’s it gone tonight?’
‘Really well. I’m leaving the bar staff to it. I’m, how do you say it? Cream crackers?’
‘Nearly. Cream-crackered,’ corrected Beth with a chuckle and they squished their tumblers together in a cheers motion that was decidedly lacking in clink.
‘I’m losing a barmaid tonight. It’s her last night working for me. She started university a few weeks ago and the two don’t mix well together. So it’ll be just me and Chloe and, at busy times, that’s not enough.’
‘Oh,’ said Beth, enjoying the feel of the wine as it chilled and warmed her insides at the same time. She wasn’t sure if that was Petra’s way of making a job offer and, if it was, she was unsure how she felt about it. ‘Are you replacing her?’
‘Definitely. Christmas isn’t far away and we’re fully booked for most of December.’
Beth nodded and bit her lip. ‘Would you consider taking me on?’ she asked. ‘I don’t have any experience but I’m willing to learn.’
Jack stepped forward and butted in. ‘There was that time you worked at the tearooms,’ he said, behind a huge grin. Petra was looking puzzled so Beth nudged him playfully out of the way.
‘Ignore him.’
‘I usually do,’ said Petra. ‘The job’s yours, if you want it.’ They raised their plastic cups in another toast. Beth wasn’t sure what she had let herself in for but she needed the money and a small income was much better than none at all.
Beth and Jack stood together watching the bonfire light up the village green. The light breeze was enough to make the flames swirl up in elaborate patterns before disappearing into the night sky.
‘It’s mesmerizing, isn’t it?’ said Jack, turning to look at Beth for a moment.
‘It is. There’s something magical about fire. I love Bonfire Night.’
‘Me too. Always preferred it to Halloween. My mum used to do jacket potatoes smothered in butter and cheese and wrapped in foil, which we’d eat outside. We’d have them another time on a plate but they never tasted as good as they did outside, watching the bonfire.’
Beth’s eyebrows danced at Jack sharing something personal; this was a first. She felt she should reciprocate. ‘We’d have sausages and my dad would always run outside with the plate shouting, “Look out! Bangers!” and it always made me laugh,’ said Beth.
They both chuckled and then relaxed into an amiable silence. Perhaps it was easier when everyone around you was chatting and providing a background noise? Another person ambled through the packed crowd and Beth and Jack got pushed closer together but neither made a move to step away. In such close proximity to Jack, Beth felt surprisingly at ease and safe.
When the fireworks were announced, Jack made his apologies and took Doris home moments before the first ones went up. Doris hoovered up as many pieces of dropped sausage she could as she was escorted off the green. Beth watched them leave until she was aware that Petra was eyeing her and she looked away, self-consciously adjusting her wool beanie. It was silly really but she felt she wanted to chat more to Jack and a part of her was a little downcast that he’d had to leave early.
It was a classic firework display that produced oohs and ahhs from the well-trained crowd who were all huddled together, staring into the cold clear sky. Leo was happy for Beth to hug him while they watched the rockets whizz and bang and the pretty sparkles light up the deep blackberry sky. Things were starting to look up, thought Beth.
Carly and Fergus sat in silence in the pub. Fergus was scrolling through the music on his phone and every so often he’d show a particular album or artist to Carly. She knew how much he missed music and it was hard for her to imagine what it was like to lose something so important to you. The door opened and Nick arrived looking as if he’d stepped out of a magazine; his hair was perfect and his clothes were on trend. He gave a warm confident smile when he spotted them and strode over. Fergus stood up and shook Nick’s hand firmly but was reluctantly pulled into a brief man hug.
‘It’s so good to see you, Fergus.’ Nick spoke at a deliberately steady pace, facing Fergus so that it was easier for him to lip-read. Fergus nodded, his stony face easy to read. Nick bent to kiss Carly lightly on each cheek and gently whispered, ‘I’m so grateful that you came.’
They agreed a drinks order and were soon sitting at a table for four with one empty chair. Carly eyed the empty chair rather than make direct eye contact with Nick as she sipped her drink and waited for the inevitable awkward conversation to start.
‘Thanks for coming. I really appreciate your support,’ said Nick. Carly was about to relay it to Fergus but he was already answering.
‘You don’t have our support, Nick.’ Fergus’s tone was cold. ‘I am here because Carly felt sorry for you.’ His eyes were locked on Nick’s.
Nick’s eye twitched but he hid his reactions well. ‘Fergus, I know how this looks …’
‘And I know how this is.’ Fergus turned to Carly and silently signed. ‘We shouldn’t have come.’
Carly spoke to Nick but signed so that Fergus could stay involved. ‘Nick, Fergus is right, we can’t help you.’
‘It’s okay, really. I do understand, you’re supporting your friend. I would be exactly the same.’ Nick’s voice was downcast and he lowered his gaze until it was on his Diet Coke.
Fergus was still staring at Nick. ‘She should have reported you to the police,’ he said. Carly was feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Fergus was right, they shouldn’t have come. She hadn’t appreciated quite how strongly Fergus felt about the situation but, watching him now, she could see the loathing he had for Nick.
Nick looked up and his expression had changed; he no longer looked dejected. ‘She could still report me if she felt she had something to report. But she hasn’t.’ There was an imperceptible shrug of his shoulder. Carly could feel the tension between the two men. The last thing she wanted was for this to turn into a full-blown row in a public place.
‘If you had any decency, you would leave her alone …’ started Fergus.
Nick began to object on the grounds that he didn’t know where she was but Fergus chose to carry on talking over him. ‘You would stop searching for her, and you would seek help for your condition.’
Nick laughed and shook his head as colour rose in Fergus’s face and Carly leaned forward in case she had to intervene. ‘Okay, mate …’ started Nick.
‘I’m no mate of yours,’ said Fergus, standing up. Nick automatically rose with him. Shit, thought Carly, and she too stood up but felt scarily small next to the two men. There was just the table between them. Fergus had the height advantage but Nick was more muscular and, whilst Carly adored Fergus, she could easily see who would win any physical fight.
‘This was a bad idea. We should leave,’ said Carly. Nick waved them away, shaking his head, his face now stern. They walked to the door and Fergus opened it for Carly to walk through. As she went out into the street she realized he was no longer behind her. She raced back to see Fergus stooping over a now-seated Nick, speaking into his ear whilst a firm hand on his shoulder kept him in his chair. He then turned and walked back to her at the door.
‘What did you say to him?’ asked Carly, but Fergus shook his head and quickened his pace.
It
was Sunday so Beth and Leo got the bus to the DIY store and purchased the paint, brushes and trays to decorate the living room. It was almost too heavy to bring back on the bus but somehow, with a little help from some friendly fellow travellers, they managed it. Beth had decided against the stark white she had originally wanted and instead went for a warmer hue, still very much the blank canvas she wanted to create for whoever ended up buying and living in Willow Cottage but more in keeping with its age. Leo helped to cover the floor with newspaper and they set to work.
Sunday went by in a decorating blur that even Leo enjoyed. Just at the point where he was getting bored, Denis arrived and the two went off clutching plastic boxes to explore for blackberries behind the pub garden. Beth took a look around and decided she would pack in for the day and finish the living room on Monday. It was Sunday and she fancied a proper lunch.
Despite it being late in the season, Leo returned from the blackberry hunt with enough for Beth to incorporate into an apple and blackberry pie. It felt so good to be cooking again. She couldn’t help feeling a little smug when they sat in their new kitchen and tucked into a proper home-cooked meal.
Monday arrived and after the school run it was back to the decorating. Doris was very interested in the changes and in particular the smell in the living room but, once she had settled down, Beth got on with finishing the painting.
Beth had her music on loud while she stood on Simon’s borrowed stepladder and gave the ceiling its second coat. She had her head tilted to the ceiling as she rollered merrily and wasn’t aware that Doris had moved and that she’d come up close to investigate. The stepladder wobbled precariously when Doris landed her great paws on the steps on the opposite side to Beth. Beth immediately brought down her hands to steady herself but in so doing the hand gripping the paint-clad roller accidentally whacked Doris on the head.
‘Sorry, Doris!’ said Beth instinctively as the paint-splattered dog retreated quickly. Beth then spent the next twenty minutes trying to coax Doris to come to her and stay long enough so that she could wash the paint off her head. She couldn’t send her home looking like a punk badger.
The last of the dog treats and two slices of leftover beef later, Doris had a wet but paint-free head and a more cautious look in her eye.
‘Now don’t go and rat on me to Jack,’ Beth whispered to Doris, who grumbled and settled down for a nap in the hallway, keeping one eye trained on Beth.
The rest of the day’s decorating went without incident and Beth proudly surveyed the results. She was pleased with herself and had to admit that she had enjoyed it. Perhaps doing the rest of the cottage wouldn’t be such a chore after all?
Jack had been correct about the painting. She doubted very much that she would expressly tell him that but, looking over the finished walls, she knew he had been right. They were never intended to be perfectly smooth; plastering would have erased a little of the cottage’s history. The walls were smooth to the touch but when the light bounced off the surface the imperfections and undulations could be seen, and Beth liked it. Now it was time to make it look like it was lived in.
Chapter Seventeen
Beth’s first night of working at the Bleeding Bear loomed large and she felt first-night nerves. She was going over to the pub only a few minutes early for Petra to show her the ropes, even though Beth had suggested that perhaps a day’s training might be more appropriate for a novice like her. Petra had insisted that, once you had the knack, pulling a good pint was the easiest thing in the world and the till was child’s play. Beth remained sceptical on both counts.
She showered, changed, checked she didn’t have paint in her hair, did a delicate job on her make-up, and surveyed the result as best she could in her pocket mirror. It was difficult to tell. She knew her hair badly needed cutting because it hadn’t seen a stylist since she’d left London, so she tied it back in a rough pleat. Leo was very happy to be spending the evening somewhere that had a television and free-flowing crisps and fizzy drinks.
In theory, the job was ideal. Granted, it was a world away from her city job but it was a new challenge and a chance to get to know a few more people. She was fretting a bit but she was quite excited too. Her life was different now; she was different. I’m enjoying being Beth again. I’m not Elizabeth any more, I never really was, she thought. Beth definitely wasn’t the gullible woman who had fallen for Nick’s charms, or the pliable individual he had subsequently moulded. She was back to being her old independent self and this was where she took the next step.
The pub was a little eerie without any customers as her heels reverberated on the wooden floors. The echo was repeating itself somewhere in the pit of Beth’s stomach. How daft to be nervous, she thought, but sometimes nerves and fears weren’t rational and rarely were they controllable. She realized that she wanted to be good at something again, which had added a little more pressure to the situation. Beth took off her coat and looked around the empty pub. It was exactly how you would expect a country pub to be: lots of beams, nooks and crannies and a big fireplace that was blackened with the memories of the past. Petra appeared and her smile dissolved any nerves Beth was harbouring.
‘You came! Let me start with a simple pint,’ said Petra, and so her training began. As she had expected, she didn’t do well the first time she pulled a pint, nor the second nor the third, but after that she had a feel for it as well as the feel of beer on her jeans. But it was okay. She was smiling and to her surprise she was enjoying it.
Her first evening was a quiet one, which helped, and Petra was on hand like a mother bird hovering nearby to keep a watchful eye on her fledgling. Beth had a slack few minutes and was wondering why they didn’t have a bar stool on her side of the bar when Petra returned from checking on the kitchen, and handed her a lemon.
‘In between the customers you do everything else: chop lemon for drinks, check crisp stocks, collect glasses from tables and bar, load dishwasher, unload glasses from dishwasher and wipe down and tidy up.’
‘Right,’ said Beth, as she set about slicing the lemon. Petra was right, there was always something to do and as soon as there was a gap between customers Petra was using it to explain something else to Beth. The real ales were a bit of a worry to Beth and she felt she ought to try to learn them as homework.
When there was a brief pause, Beth seized the chance to chat to Petra. ‘I hadn’t appreciated how intense it is running the bar and the kitchen.’
Petra grinned. ‘I love it. My kitchen staff are excellent so they don’t really need me. A young keen chef is a godsend. And this’, she waved her hand over the bar top, ‘is all I’ve known since I came to England.’
‘But you didn’t come to work in a bar. Did you?’
‘No. I came to study.’ Petra looked uncharacteristically serious.
‘What happened?’
Petra was staring at Beth, her expression grave. Beth wanted to reach out and reassure her but she didn’t know why. Petra shook her head and the solemn moment was gone. ‘I’m not as clever as I thought I was,’ she said, with a forced laugh.
‘You’re very good at running a bar though,’ said Beth and she meant it. ‘You’re wasted here. You could be earning serious money as an office manager in London,’ she added with feeling.
Petra chuckled and shook her head. ‘I would hate an office. Here I have my regulars and I meet new people all the time. It may not pay the big bucks but it pays enough and the pub is mine … apart from the huge mortgage of course!’ She laughed again and went towards the other end of the bar even before the next punter had fully walked inside, and greeted them warmly.
Beth pondered their conversation for a moment. She’d not seen Petra look as tense as she did when she spoke about giving up her studies. Another customer approached the bar and Beth went into efficient barmaid mode and the thought was lost.
When they were down to five customers, Petra sent her home.
‘You did well tonight. Very well,’ said Petra.
&n
bsp; ‘Thanks,’ said Beth, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself. A tired Leo staggered into view and the weary duo wended their way the few short steps back to Willow Cottage and their beds.
On a bleak frosty morning, Jack walked past the carpet delivery van that was parked outside Willow Cottage. The front door was already open. He unclipped Doris’s lead and handed it to Beth and Doris trotted happily into the cottage.
‘You might have wanted to get the chimney checked and cleaned before you had the carpet fitted,’ called Jack as he sauntered away.
Beth faltered in the doorway; she couldn’t look at him but she knew he was radiating smugness. He had walked too far before Beth had a chance to reply. She stuck her tongue out at his back. It was childish but it made her feel better. She watched as the almost white carpet was pulled from the van.
‘Hang on!’ yelled Beth at the two startled carpet fitters while she jogged over to them. ‘I’m really very sorry but you can’t fit the carpet today.’
After a lot of huffing, two mugs of sweet tea and half a packet of custard creams, the carpet fitters took the carpet away so that she could arrange a fitting at a later date. A few frantic phone calls later and Beth had found an actual chimney sweep who was able to come round later that day. She didn’t like having the confrontation with the carpet fitters but getting the chimney cleaned first was the smart thing to do and she was pleased that a potential crisis had been averted. But why did Jack have to know best?
Beth found herself humming the ‘Chim Chim Cher-ee’ song from Mary Poppins on and off throughout the day so when the chimney sweep finally arrived, and disappointingly looked nothing like Dick Van Dyke, she had to make a concerted effort to suppress the urges to continue humming. He was an older gentleman and knew everything there was to know about chimneys and fireplaces. He soon got to work, starting first with a chimney inspection inside and out.
When he carried in the brushes Beth decided to leave him to it. After a while, she brought him a cup of tea and was shocked to see the large boxful of twigs, ash and unidentifiable charred remains that had been removed from the chimney.
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