The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

by Caroline Roberts

‘Super. Well, is there anything you need? Can I help you get set up at all?’

  ‘I don’t think so, we’re here to make sure your guests have wonderful food and a memorable evening, so you can relax and have fun.’ Lucy sounded far more confident than she felt.

  ‘That is music to my ears, Lucy. Thank you. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something, or a cold drink?’

  ‘Ah, well, a can of Coke would be nice, if you have that.’

  ‘Certainly, and …?’ she gestured towards Olly.

  ‘Oh, something like a cold beer would go down a treat.’ Olly gave a cheeky, hopeful look.

  ‘Of course, I’ll go fetch them.’

  ‘Just the one,’ Lucy mouthed to her bro. ‘What did I say … don’t forget you’re working.’

  ‘Hah, I’m twenty-seven, not twelve, Lucy.’ He gave her a wink.

  The pizza horsebox had arrived a good hour before any guests were due. The kiln-dried logs needed to be lit as soon as possible, to give the oven plenty of time to get to at least 400 degrees C. In the meanwhile, she and Olly had the antipasti platters to set out and garnish creatively, as well as a host of other practical jobs.

  With Jack’s arrival imminent, Lucy was pleased she’d be busy for a good while, and having Olly here would act as a deflection too. She still wasn’t sure how she was feeling about that near-kiss, especially when it had been followed so soon afterwards by Becky’s damning revelation.

  But it wasn’t long before that familiar gleam of deep-red appeared and the Volkswagen’s distinctive front end turned into the driveway. Lucy’s stomach gave a little uneasy flip.

  Jack found himself very much looking forward to this evening, with the chance to see Lucy again. A touch of nerves hit his belly as he neared the booking address, and it was in no way to do with the function. It had been a very long time since he’d felt any of this … what was it, a sort of gut-wrenching, falling kind of feeling? Jeez, it was as unsettling as it was exciting, to be honest. But … he told himself, all he really wanted was to get to know Lucy some more, see how things went. Small steps … big feelings.

  He reached the gates. She was already there; the grey horsebox in position on the driveway, and he could see her setting up. He pulled in, waving a friendly ‘Hello’ across to her. But … who the heck was that? Jack spotted a guy in the horsebox; tall, dark-haired, good-looking. He stopped in his tracks. When Lucy had had help at other functions, it had always been that surly-faced young girl. Was a friend helping out, perhaps a boyfriend? It was then he spotted them goofing around behind the counter, grinning away and looking far too familiar with each other. He was hit by an odd sinking feeling.

  Lucy looked up, with a brief, ‘Ah, hi, Jack.’ And that was it. That was all she said.

  The bloke with her merely gave a confident, steady smile.

  Shit, was that why she’d pulled away from the kiss on her cottage doorstep? Because she had a boyfriend already? Maybe it wasn’t Daisy’s doing after all. Everything was just a tangled mess of emotions. But why hadn’t she said anything? He suddenly realised just how little he knew about her.

  Jack trailed back to Ruby feeling weirdly crushed. Glad for something to distract him, he concentrated on lining up his champagne flutes and cocktail glasses to perfection; presentation was everything. He loved the campervan bar to look the part, theming it individually for each event. Tonight, he’d got grey-and-white birthday bunting ready to string along the front of the counter, and two pearlised 40th birthday helium-filled balloons to tie at the far end of the van. He filled an ice bucket ready to chill bottles of champagne, then proceeded to decorate his counter with limes, oranges, lemons, passionfruit, plus jugs of fresh mint, rosemary and basil. As well as the champagne, he had a Tom Collins ‘welcome’ cocktail to prepare, and plenty of Italian lagers chilling in the fridge. Yep, despite the mixed emotions about Lucy, he was able to flick the switch and become Master of Mixology for the night. Jack’s Cocktail Campervan at your service.

  There was a buzz of guest arrivals, champagne corks flying and flutes filling. He was soon in the swing of it all. Yet, in the midst of all the chat and cocktail creation, Jack couldn’t help but steal the odd glance the way of the horsebox. The two of them over there, prepping platters of food, standing far too close for Jack’s liking. The guy leaning in and whispering something in Lucy’s ear which made her giggle. She seemed extremely comfortable in his company – no hint of Ice Queen about her at all. There was a close easiness in the way they were together. There was no way this guy was a mere workmate. Jack’s initial excitement at seeing her again had wilted like a popped balloon.

  The evening rolled on and by 9 p.m., Lucy and Olly had tidied away the grazing boards – the contents of which had been pretty much demolished – served over fifty pizzas, and ta dah, it was time for the cake display. This was the most nerve-wracking part of the evening for Lucy. So, could she come up trumps with dessert as well as with her savoury dishes? The proof would be in the pudding.

  Lucy had discovered two antique silver trays in Nonna’s kitchen cabinet – brought all the way across from Italy with Papa’s family, apparently – which her grandmother was happy for Lucy to take and keep; saying they were far better being used than gathering dust in the back of her cupboards. Lucy had carefully assembled the chocolate layers earlier in the day, cutting them into neat squares with a raspberry on each to decorate, then she had placed them onto the pretty antique trays, covering them gently with foil. She hoped to goodness they’d travelled okay in the back of her trailer – she’d driven super-carefully. Lifting one corner of the foil tentatively, Lucy gave a sigh of relief. All present and correct, bar the odd toppled raspberry, which she was able to easily pop back in place. Phew!

  For the Clementine and Limoncello Cake, which was packed with zesty sunshine flavours, she sliced neat triangle wedges and now arranged them on a pretty, white, scallop-edged platter of her mum’s. Nonna had recommended making some crème fraiche laced with orange zest, to dollop next to each portion. That was already prepped and ready, and was looking delightfully creamy in a white-and-blue pottery bowl, which she garnished with an extra curl or two of orange zest. She set the dish out beside the citrus cake platter so the partygoers could help themselves. Well, the cakes certainly looked the part as Lucy placed them out on the linen-covered trestle table. Now, for the taste test.

  ‘Pudding is served!’ she called out to the happy gathering in the garden, who were chatting away merrily, the odd peal of laughter ringing out.

  Word soon spread around the guests, and Lucy quickly had a little queue forming. She held her breath as the first spoons were lifted … and … there were plenty of ‘Umm’s and ‘Ahh’s and ‘Gorgeous’es as the partygoers tucked in. Phew! She’d hopefully managed to pull that pudding palaver off. She said a silent ‘thank you’ to Nonna. With Papa’s pizzas and Nonna’s puddings, All Fired Up was turning into a food force to be reckoned with.

  ‘Looks like you nailed it, sis.’ Olly had clearly been watching the guests’ reactions too.

  The pair of them high-fived behind the counter top.

  Who was that bloody guy working with Lucy? Jack still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the antics at the pizza van. The two of them had been chatting away most of the night, working smoothly side-by-side, and now they were high-fiving like a match made in heaven.

  Lucy’s boyfriend. Could it be true? Jack realised he really didn’t want it to be. He felt like such a fool.

  But the evening moved on, the party in full swing, keeping Jack busy. And the party crowd were certainly enjoying their drinks – with a few high jinks involved, including a hilarious, if somewhat saucy, party game involving the guests passing around several of Jack’s lemons and limes with no hands allowed, and a full-on caterwauling version of Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ sung en masse in the garden.

  In the lead-up to midnight, several taxis arrived and other guests began their slightly wobbly walks home. Some friends of Nikki’s, wh
o were staying on overnight, ordered a last, rather large, round of drinks for good measure. With Jack’s temporary licence finishing at midnight, it was soon time to get packed up. He was exhausted from another busy event but, disconcertingly, he found he now had more time to think.

  Jack had envisaged chatting with Lucy as the guests filtered home, had been looking forward to it. Not much chance of that now, he mused grumpily, not with good-looking guy in tow. Yet even now, seeing her stood beside the settling embers of the pizza oven, he told himself to just buck up, and steel himself. He’d been wanting to talk to her all night, so why didn’t he just bloody well go over there …? But why did that suddenly feel so hard?

  Chapter 22

  ‘Hi guys. How did it all go? A good evening for you, Luce? You certainly looked to be flat out.’

  Lucy looked up sharply. There he was, Jack the Lad, striding over to the horsebox. Trust him to burst her balloon after the success of the evening. But she supposed she’d better be polite, he had got her this job after all, though she couldn’t help but bristle on seeing him approach.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she stuttered. ‘Well yeah, we’ve never stopped. Pizzas, platters, cakes. It’s been a good booking.’ She was leaning on the horsebox’s counter top, trying her best to look casual, all the while thinking: so this was the guy who had hurt her best friend so badly.

  ‘Well, I thought you might be ready for one of these then …’ He offered up the flutes of fizz. ‘Prosecco and pizza, you really can’t go wrong, can you?’

  Hah, did he think he could smooth things over with a glass of fizz? Another classic Jack tactic, for sure. ‘Oh, okay. Well thanks, Jack.’ She kept her tone cool.

  Jack looked a bit confused, staring sheepishly down at the prosecco glasses in his hands.

  ‘Cheers, mate.’ Olly smiled as he took both glasses from Jack, handing one across to Lucy.

  ‘Oh Jack, this is Olly,’ Lucy said casually.

  He was tall and olive skinned, with dark cropped hair. Undeniably and irksomely handsome, in fact, Jack thought.

  ‘Hi.’ Jack forced a tight smile.

  ‘Yeah, thought my little brother could help me out for the night.’

  There was a second of silence as Jack registered her words. ‘Y-your … brother?’

  ‘Yes …’

  The penny dropped with a bloody huge clang. Jack had been jealous all night of her brother. Now, who was the stupid idiot?

  ‘Right, right … Hi Olly, g-good to meet you,’ Jack found himself stuttering.

  ‘Hey, looks like you’ve had a busy night too, mate,’ Olly commented, happy to make small talk.

  ‘Yeah, been a great party, hasn’t it? A really good atmosphere,’ Jack responded, still trying to get his head around this scenario.

  ‘Well, thanks Jack,’ Lucy added, ‘for putting my name out there …’

  Her smile seemed cautious, yet it still lifted him. The revelation that he’d got it wrong all night was now lifting his hopes, despite her coolness. The Ice Queen had crept back in. She seemed different from the girl he’d chatted with so easily in the dunes that day. But they were both busy working tonight, it was a different environment here altogether. Perhaps she was just trying to stay professional?

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Despite his misgivings, Jack couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face.

  ‘Nice of that bar van guy to give us a drink there at the end,’ Olly said to Lucy on the way home. ‘So, have you two have met up before, then?’

  Lucy felt a little uncomfortable. She gazed at the headlamp-lit road ahead before answering. ‘Yeah, a couple of times. Jack is okay. Been a help to me, getting me tonight’s job and all that. Though …’ She was almost going to mention his past misdemeanours as far as Becky was concerned, but for some reason she found herself not wanting to run him down to her brother.

  Oh, why did Jack have to turn out to be such a disappointment? All that business with Becky was years ago now, she supposed. But did a leopard ever change its spots? She sighed heavily and pretended to concentrate on the road for a while.

  ‘Ooh, it’s a late night,’ she then commented, after a yawn escaped her lips. The clock on her dash read 12:25 a.m. It always took a while to pack up at the end of a function; especially with needing to let the pizza oven cool down fully before setting it back inside the horsebox.

  ‘Yeah, I hope Freddie isn’t up too sharp tomorrow,’ Olly said, pulling a woeful face. ‘He was awake at 6:10 this morning.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Yeah, he certainly hasn’t grasped the definition of weekends as yet.’

  ‘Hah, he’s only two! Just wait ’til he’s twelve, then you’ll never be able to get him out of bed. I remember what you were like!’

  ‘Hah, yeah.’

  ‘Yeah, you my little bro, were like a bloody bear going into hibernation. And all the moaning and groaning that went on, just to get you out of that sweaty pit of a bedroom.’

  ‘Hey you.’ He gave her a jokey, gentle prod on the arm.

  They enjoyed teasing each other, as siblings often do, but their love was evident too. Through their parents splitting up, they were always a team, turning to each other when the going got tough. There’d been Olly’s disappointment at flunking his A-levels, which meant his chances of going to uni had been pretty much obliterated; Lucy’s devastating rocky patch with her ex; and all the other ups and downs of life they’d experienced so far. They’d always been there for each other. Tonight had been no different; when Lucy had confessed she was in a bit of a spot with young Tamsin dipping out on her already, he’d offered to help out straight away. Even though he’d been working all week beforehand and most likely fancied a cosy night home. Even his girlfriend Alice had come up trumps, offering to keep Daisy there with her for the evening. They were planning on having a ‘Girls’ Night’ on the sofa with Netflix, Lucy had learned, once Freddie had hit the deck, that was. Daisy would have been in her element, for sure.

  And the big plus in having Olly there at the function too, so soon after Becky’s revelation, was that her brother had been a great foil for Jack’s attentions, giving Lucy some much-needed space to think and retreat.

  The whole bloody thing was just too confusing. It was late, she was tired, and all she needed to do right now was to drop her brother off and collect Daisy Doo. Then, she’d sleep on it and hopefully dream about anything or anyone but Jack Bloody Anderson.

  Chapter 23

  Jack woke in a crumpled bed, alone, with sunlight streaming through his window.

  Remembering last night, he felt a churn of disappointment about Lucy’s renewed frostiness. He’d hoped they’d have had a chance to chat, maybe mention the great afternoon they’d had at the beach last weekend. He supposed it didn’t help that she’d had her brother in tow. Maybe he was overthinking it all.

  Today was a new day. It was time to shake himself out of this daft Lucy-shaped reverie. Yep, he needed to check and update his Facebook and website this morning. He’d taken some great photos of his cocktails, plus some shots of the campervan in the driveway with the party in full swing last night. Nikki had said she was happy for him to use them. It would freshen up the pages and give potential customers a taste of what was on offer.

  He got up. As he stood there in his boxers and stretched, he caught sight of a blue, wispy-clouded sky. It looked to be a nice day, so why not get out and on the bike too? Maybe go for a cycle ride down the coast and cut back into the hills – a forty miler. Get a welcome blast of fresh air and exercise. Perhaps Matt might fancy tagging along? His housemate pal had mentioned having a rare day off from the veterinary surgery, with girlfriend Jess having something on with a friend. It would be good to have some company. Hmm, perhaps they might stop for a chilled draft pint in a beer garden somewhere en route. The idea was forming nicely.

  Sat outside of The Horseshoe Inn, in the quaint village of Kirkholme in the foothills of the Cheviot hills, Jack’s first sip of his refreshingly-cold pint o
f ale lived up to expectations. Twenty miles into their bike ride, the scenery was glorious with rolling hills and rugged moorland all around. The lanes were quieter out here, being away from the tourist traffic of the coast, though the cycling duo had plenty of challenging ascents. Jack’s muscles were aching but in a good way. He loved the outdoors life, and the feeling of pushing himself, whether it was with exercise or his business. He was never one to rest on his laurels.

  ‘So, how’s it all been going lately? Still winning at life with the Cocktail Campervan?’ Matt asked, stretching his long legs out at a pub picnic bench.

  Though they lived together, it was rare for the two lads to sit and chat in any great depth. It was more casual banter, over a pizza or burger and a bottle of lager at the end of one of Matt’s long shifts, or watching the occasional footie match on the TV, or perhaps a Call of Duty session on the X-box. That, of course, was when Jess wasn’t about – which seemed to be increasingly rare. She was starting to become a permanent fixture. It was only a matter of time before she’d be moving in, Jack figured, and then he’d have to be on the lookout for alternative accommodation. He was pragmatic about it, as it was Matt’s house after all. Such was the way of life. But he’d had a few good years staying there, since finishing his travels, and coming back Alnwick way. It had suited him. He really hadn’t wanted to go back to living at his parents’. There were just too many memories there, ready to slam into him at every opportunity.

  ‘Jack? The campervan?’ Matt repeated.

  ‘Ah, yeah, it’s going good thanks,’ he said, shaking off the reverie. ‘I’m having a successful year so far, which is great. The bookings still keep rolling in.’

  In fact, he had just been given the nod that morning about a new music festival coming to the area, which – with any luck – would provide an exciting new opportunity. A mate who he’d done some bar work with a while back was also in an up-and-coming band and he’d called to let him know there were a few catering pitches left for the inaugural Holy Island Music Fest. You did have to put down a decent deposit for your pitch, but it sounded like you could do really well with there being a captive audience, and you got to listen to some great music too. Jack told Matt about this new opportunity, buoying himself up as he spoke about it. He resolved to call the organisers as soon as they got back – and yes, he could call Lucy too, why not? Give her a chance to get a pitch. It’d be good to speak with her.