Название | Let It Snow |
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Автор произведения | Sue Moorcroft |
Жанр | Зарубежный юмор |
Серия | |
Издательство | Зарубежный юмор |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780008321802 |
Patsie wrinkled her nose. ‘You definitely don’t want a drunk and horrible man. Zinnia says your new boss is hot. How about him?’
‘Wouldn’t argue with Zin about his hotness. I’ll ask him out and tell him one of my mums said I have to, shall I?’ Lily managed to smile again.
Her mothers laughed together as they all moved into the kitchen to dish the pasta, pour wine and talk about the plans Roma and Patsie were making for the garden next year.
On Sunday evening, having driven home and snatched a quick nap in front of the TV, Lily turned up to begin her shift at six at The Three Fishes. A rumble of conversation was already coming from the other side of the bar and a clinking of cutlery from the dining area. Baz, at twenty the youngest staff member, was supposed to be on with her but he raced in five minutes late, his trendy long-at-the-front haircut flying.
She grinned at him as she poured a glass of rosé for Melanie from Booze & News, the village shop. ‘Couldn’t you get out of bed?’
Baz, or Sebastian, as it said on the payroll, glanced around with a hunted expression. ‘Playing Grand Theft Auto and forgot to get ready for work. Is Isaac stressing?’
‘Not noticeably.’
‘But it never is noticeable,’ Baz groaned. ‘He just quietly gives the impression you’re a world-class tosser.’ Baz had dropped out of uni last year and was working longish part-time hours while he decided what to do next. Popular with customers, he had a ready smile and had been brought up in Middledip. As Isaac emerged from the dining area Baz hastily found a customer to serve.
Lily turned the card reader so Melanie could make a contactless card payment. It would be her last shift until the end of next week as she only worked at the pub fifteen to eighteen hours a week: three evening shifts with maybe a lunchtime thrown in, usually over the period Thursday to Sunday, the pub’s quietest days being Monday to Wednesday. She liked the pattern. When she’d first returned to the UK it had been with the idea of building up her design business. She’d thought checking out the situation in Middledip would keep her only a few days. But then she’d seen the advert for bar staff and it had seemed meant to be and though when she’d left Bar Barcelona she’d planned never to stand behind a bar again … well, she’d applied and here she was. The work wasn’t onerous and left time to freelance on exhibition projects, which had a less predictable income stream because business was proving slow to build. Currently, her future work schedule consisted of two stands for the London Book Fair in March and the prospect of more work from British Country Foods, the company Max and Garrick worked for. That wouldn’t be exhibition design so much as two-dimensional work such as layouts for brochures but she had the skills and she wasn’t precious.
On the plus side, rent at Carola’s wasn’t high and Sergio had bought Lily out of their apartment, which had given her a modest nest egg and him a bigger mortgage with a Spanish bank.
It was after nine when she turned from ringing up two large glasses of white wine and a Hendrick’s gin with elderflower tonic, and a smiling woman ordered half a pint of lager. As Lily passed her the change she asked, ‘Is Isaac O’Brien around, please? Will you tell him Flora’s here?’ Her brown hair was pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck and her expression was open and friendly.
Lily smiled back, thinking ‘Another pretty woman looking for Isaac?’ before answering cheerfully, ‘He’s around somewhere. I’ll find him.’
She whizzed out of the bar and discovered Isaac talking to Chef. His eyes lit up when he heard Flora was waiting. ‘I’ll be right there.’
Lily did as requested, then went out into the dining area to clear plates. From there she was ideally placed to see Isaac arrive behind the bar, open the counter flap, hug the brown-haired woman and usher her through. When Lily took the same route, a pile of plates and cutlery in her arms, she glanced all around the back area on her way to the kitchen but there was no sign of Isaac and his visitor.
Perhaps he’d found a replacement for the glamorous Hayley already? Good-looking men never need be short of company.
It was meant to be one of Isaac’s days off but Monday didn’t seem to have got that memo. He’d already taken a call from the wholesaler to order soft drinks and bar snacks, shown his face in the bar at lunchtime to see Tina was OK and to check the beer cellar. He was a better build than Tina for hauling beer kegs and firkins around.
Back upstairs, he went into the kitchen, which was the only part of Tubb and Janice’s accommodation he used. His own space was a nice bedroom with en suite, once one of two sets of guest accommodation, but it had nowhere to make meals or do laundry. He made a cup of tea and a chicken sandwich and sat down at the table to phone Tubb, who was unused to leaving his pub in the hands of others for long and got antsy. After reassuring the owner that everything was hunky-dory, Isaac called his parents and invited them to The Three Fishes tomorrow evening. ‘Flora’s offered to drive you over,’ he added. They’d moved into Peterborough when Isaac’s dad had had to give up farm work so maybe they’d enjoy a trip to the country, even if just for an evening.
He ate his lunch, Doggo watching fixedly. ‘There’s time for a good walk today. Really stretch our legs,’ Isaac told him, popping the last of his sandwich into his mouth without sharing. ‘I’ve printed a map of the area from footpathmaps.com. I need to think about getting myself ready for the instructor courses I’m taking. A fast eight-mile walk will do today and maybe tomorrow we’ll drive off into Derbyshire and find some hills.’
Doggo wagged his tail.
‘I’ve moped around long enough, feeling adrift. I don’t have an exact end-date for this job but it’s an OK stopgap. I cannot wait to leave the atrocious hours and perilous rewards of the hospitality industry behind forever. Losing the Juno made me want out.’ The Three Fishes was informal and laid-back after the Juno but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Being with Hayley for so long had made him so bloody aspirational that he’d almost forgotten how it felt to jog along within his comfort zone.
He rose, causing Doggo to bound to his feet too, and went into his own room. It hadn’t seen heavy use before he arrived and, decorated in cream, brown and blue was a pleasant enough place to live. It looked over the car park and the playing fields. With not much in the way of household tasks to weigh him down and no girlfriend to worry about he was enjoying an uncluttered style of living. Much of his personal stuff was stored in Flora’s loft and he’d worked things out with Hayley financially rather than take any of their furniture. His career-in-waiting as an outdoor pursuits instructor would take him to pastures new and would include staff accommodation.
Beyond work, Isaac was pretty isolated these days. The mates from before he met Hayley had faded away over the years. Although initially intrigued by his glam older girlfriend, his friends had come to think that Hayley was too focused on her career and what it brought her and that Isaac had grown the same, especially once he was running his own business. He’d seen it more as going into a shared future and increasing his capacity to earn … but all that had been before he’d failed to meet Hayley’s gold standard, of course.
She certainly had exhibited no need of his friends. Her own good friends numbered just Vicky and Nicola, a pair of sisters who were so similar to each other and to Hayley in dress and attitudes that they might as well have been one person. Hayley had been tight with them since uni days when her own parents had died and she’d spent a lot of holidays at their home. Vicky had a husband, Adie, and Nicola a Colombian boyfriend called Javier, but though Isaac had got along OK with all of them, he wasn’t in touch post break-up.
It was nice to have an excitedly wagging Doggo around for company. Isaac pulled on boots and a jacket and threaded Doggo into his harness. He slid his map into a plastic sleeve and clipped it to a lightweight backpack containing hat and gloves and added a couple of water bottles, enough for Doggo