Chapter 9
Sam was trying not to lose patience, but it was wearing thin. Briar had skipped off to Majorca, and then his part-time kitchen assistant, Elsa, had handed in her notice. Well, she hadn’t even given notice. She’d just quit with no warning.
Apparently, the bright lights of Burlington-on-Sea, forty-two miles up the coast, were beckoning her. She’d had an offer of a job in a seafood restaurant and since her mother lived in the seaside town and had offered her a room in her house, she saw no reason not to accept it.
‘The only problem is,’ she’d told Sam, not sounding at all as if was any sort of problem as far as she was concerned, ‘that I have to start immediately. Well, tomorrow. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to love you and leave you, Sam.’
He could hardly force her to stay, and the truth was it was probably good that she’d found another job, with the future of The North Star so uncertain.
But from a selfish point of view, he was facing an even busier time at the pub, and with his dad still slumped in front of the television, paying no attention whatsoever to Sam’s angst, it looked like he was going to be working flat out for the foreseeable.
It had briefly occurred to him to close the pub completely. How easy it would be to lock the door, pull down the blinds at the bay windows, and call Luke to tell him he was on his way back to work a few months earlier than expected.
But thinking about it rationally, he knew that the pub would be much easier to sell as a going concern.
If someone came looking, they would be far more impressed if they saw The North Star as it was tonight – heaving with customers and full of lively chatter and laughter – rather than as an empty shell.
Which meant, of course, that he’d just have to get on with things, as infuriating as that was.
He was still waiting for his dad to take some action.
He’d have thought Seb would have contacted an estate agent by now so they could come to the pub and take down the particulars, get the ball rolling on the sale.
So far, though, his dad had done nothing and when Sam mentioned it to him, he just grunted and said he’d get round to it in his own good time.
Sam tried not to think about what it would mean for him, or for his dad, when he finally did.
He couldn’t allow himself to get sentimental about it.
His mum wasn’t here, and his dad wasn’t interested in the place.
Sam had to think about himself and his future.
Besides, he’d already confirmed with Luke the good news that he’d be returning to work for him in January – earlier, if the pub sold – and the two had had a very positive and cheerful telephone conversation about the matter. There was no going back now.
‘I reckon we’re going to have to cut some of the items off the menu,’ Kenny told him, as he rushed into the kitchen with yet another order.
‘You can’t expect me to carry on as normal without Elsa here to pick up the slack.
Young Ollie’s having to do most of her work, which means he can’t fetch and carry for me, and I’ve got enough to do. ’
‘Whatever you want,’ Sam said wearily. ‘Just tell me what you want to cook and—’
‘It’s not about what I want to cook,’ Kenny said haughtily. ‘It’s about what I can manage to cook under these circumstances. Briar often popped in here to help if she wasn’t too busy at the bar, and even she’s gone now, so you must see the position I’m in.’
‘I do see,’ Sam said hastily. ‘No judgement from me. Look, just do what you can tonight and tomorrow we’ll go through the menu together and whittle it down to a few basic dishes.’
Kenny gave him a suspicious look. ‘In the summer holidays?’
‘Yes,’ Sam said, hardly able to meet his eye.
‘Our busiest time, when we make the most money?’
‘Needs must. Can’t be helped, can it?’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to advertise for new kitchen staff?’
Sam shrugged nervously. ‘It’s not that simple, is it? We’re not on a bus route and attracting people to cover shifts out here is harder than you’d imagine.’
‘Especially if you don’t advertise,’ Kenny pointed out. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Sam?’
It really wasn’t up to him to break the news, was it? And if he told Kenny the truth, he wouldn’t put it past his chef to throw off his overalls and quit there and then, and he really couldn’t deal with that.
On the other hand, Kenny – and the rest of the staff – had the right to know that their future was in jeopardy.
Hopefully, whoever they sold the pub to would keep them on, but you never knew.
He had to admit, with terrible guilt, that he couldn’t even guarantee that whoever bought the pub would keep it as a pub.
They might turn it into a restaurant, or a guest house, or even a large private residence, if they had the money.
Who knew what The North Star would become?
His staff’s jobs could be in real danger.
They’re not my staff! They’re my dad’s! He should be the one dealing with this.
‘Anyone serving out here?’ came a shout from the bar, and Sam spun round, grateful to have an excuse to get out of the kitchen. Judging by Kenny’s expression, though, he knew he’d be facing some awkward questions at closing time.
‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling at the dark-haired man in an alarming bright blue Hawaiian shirt and orange Bermuda shorts, who looked as if he’d just arrived from the 1980s. ‘What can I get you?’
As he served the man and his partner their drinks – giving a silent prayer of thanks that they weren’t ordering food – he noticed a woman slip quietly through the door and wait silently a few feet away from the bar.
Handing the extra from Magnum PI his change, he gave the newcomer an encouraging smile. ‘What can I get for you?’
She was, he thought, in two minds about staying at all. She shuffled a bit closer and gave him an awkward look.
‘Er, just a lemonade please.’
Her voice was soft and hesitant. Sam nodded and smiled.
‘Coming right up.’
He took a glass from a shelf and was about to fill it with lemonade when she suddenly said, ‘No, wait! Can I…?’
He waited, wondering what she was thinking. He watched her trying to make a decision, before she straightened and put her hands on the bar, as if gaining strength from holding on to it.
‘Sod it,’ she said. ‘Can I have a vodka and Coke please?’
He raised an eyebrow, sensing that this was some act of rebellion from her.
‘Sure,’ he said, swapping the glass and trying not to wonder what was going on with her. He had a vague idea that he’d seen her before, but he wasn’t sure where. He didn’t think she was local, but he was pretty sure she’d visited Kelsea Sands at some point.
‘There you go,’ he said, almost reluctant to ask her for payment.
She paid with her mobile phone – which proved beyond doubt that she wasn’t local. He couldn’t think of a single person in this village who’d even realised paying by phone was a ‘thing’. Most of them were still trying to come to terms with debit cards.
Putting her phone back in her pocket, she smiled her thanks at him then carried the drink over to the nearest corner, where there was one free table. It was only big enough for two people and had been squashed in as an afterthought at the beginning of the season.
The woman gazed nervously around, seeming to shrink into her chair as she cradled the glass in her hand.
Sam served another four or five customers then glanced back over to see if she was still there. She was, and she’d barely touched her drink.
He frowned, trying to think where he’d seen her before. Maybe she’d been on the beach one day? He couldn’t remember her being in the pub. He would have noticed her, surely? Especially if she’d come in looking so alone and vulnerable the way she did right now…
Yes, that was what it was about her. Vulnerability. She looked quite fragile. She was thin and pale, with enormous grey eyes that scanned the room as if she was viewing the world without wanting to be a part of it.
She was, he thought, quite beautiful. The thought surprised him and he shook his head, as if dismissing it.
He threw himself into work, going backwards and forwards to the kitchen, taking orders to Kenny and carrying plates to the table to help Callum, who was on his own now that Ollie was busy prepping for Kenny as well as dealing with the dishwasher.
He carefully avoided eye contact with his chef, but luckily Kenny was so busy that he wouldn’t have had time to ask awkward questions anyway. They would come later, no doubt.
As he delivered two plates of crab salad to table five, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the woman had just drained her drink in one go. It was as if she’d finally decided that sitting there nursing it wasn’t going to do her much good and she might as well get what she’d paid for.
As he passed by on his way back to the bar, he gave her a shy smile, wondering why he felt so nervous.
‘Would you like another?’
She looked shocked, as if she hadn’t expected anyone to speak to her and wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Then she shook her head. ‘No thanks. I should be getting home. Well…’
He waited for her to finish the sentence, but she didn’t. After a moment she said, ‘May I have that lemonade now please?’
He grinned. ‘Sure.’ He took her empty glass and carried it back to the bar, surprised to realise that she’d followed him.
‘I can put it on a tab, if you like,’ he offered.
‘Oh no, it’s fine. This will be the last one anyway. I need to get back. My children…’
Her children? His eyes strayed to her left hand, and his heart sank as he noticed the gold band on her third finger. Married then. Married and a mother. It was crazy how deflated he felt by that.