Chapter Twelve
‘I’m just not sure it’s the right time.’ Ava looked across the bar to Gino, who was visibly crushed at her not sharing his enthusiasm.
Mary put her rhubarb gin down on the bar. ‘But you can’t deny February fourteenth is the ideal time to celebrate Valentine’s Day. And combining that with an Italian themed night to launch the more suitably named “Around the World in Eight Gourmets” initiative does make sense.’
‘Yes, of course, it all makes sense,’ Ava conceded.
‘But I just think with Lord Bramlington passing and much of the village still in mourning, we should give it a bit more time.’ Ava gestured towards the elderly gentlemen at the end of the bar.
The two men had been readily sharing their connections with the late Lord Bramlington with all who would listen for the past two weeks.
Picking at the edge of her bar mat — made moist by the condensation slipping down the outside of her Coke — she continued, ‘It just feels . . .’
‘Like the whole village needs to lift its spirits?’ Mary enthused.
‘Trovate sempre il tempo per dedicarvi alle cose chi vi rendono felici.’
Both Ava and Mary looked at Gino, awaiting the translation.
‘Always find time for the things that make you feel happy to be alive!’ He smiled, before continuing, ‘Good food, good friends, love and—’
‘Money in the till?’ Mary laughed before dodging the bar towel Gino threw at her.
Shaking his head, Gino conceded, ‘OK, that too. But I think we could all do with a lift, don’t you? Spreading some love might be what we . . . the village needs.’
‘And, I’m not one to gossip,’ Pauline butted in, having clearly been listening to their conversation, ‘but I’ve heard he’s back.’
‘Who?’ Gino, Ava and Mary responded in unison.
‘Him. The son and heir. Think about the timing.’ Pauline looked expectantly at the speechless trio, before continuing, ‘It’s obvious, he’s only back for one thing.’
Ava felt her throat tighten as she pictured Ted’s ashen face and Henry sprinting towards the trees. To say goodbye to his father? To make amends for the past.
‘The funeral?’ Gino asked.
Pauline tutted and shook her head. ‘Not the funeral, well yes the funeral, but the title, Dapplebury House, the estate . . .’
‘That’s three things,’ Mary offered.
Pauline rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, all of that, but when you think about it, it all comes down to one thing . . .’
The three friends looked at Pauline, while she moved in, looking around conspiratorially.
‘The money!’ She hissed. ‘You mark my words. He’ll be raking us all for what he can get before he jets off back to America and—’
‘Back to America? Who said he’s going back to America?
’ As all eyes turned to her questioningly, Ava sat up, uncrossing her legs as she adjusted her position on the barstool.
Swallowing past the tension in her throat, and readying herself to justify her outburst, Ava hoped her voice would come out less trill as she began.
‘I mean, he might not. He might stay. We can’t just assume he’ll go. He could be back to—’
‘Not if past actions are anything to go by, and not what I’ve heard,’ Pauline stated matter-of-factly, before heading off to serve a customer at the other end of the bar.
Ava’s stomach twisted as she was hit by the implications of the barmaid’s words, and the knowledge that people didn’t call Pauline “The Oracle” without good reason; her intel was generally spot on and her predictions usually right.
Ava didn’t know which filled her with more dread, being raked for money she and All Critters Great and Small couldn’t afford, the notion that Henry might be capable of that, or the fact he might return to America.
Realising that her paper straw had become as dampened as her spirits, she removed it from her glass and drank down the last of her Coke.
Mary looked between Ava and Gino. ‘Well, if what Pauline says is true then we’ve a bloody miserable time ahead and so no time to lose.
If we want to turn this village around, I vote we get on with our plans.
Worst-case scenario: we’d have tried, and it’ll be us three dressed as gondoliers eating pizza and—’
‘That’s not what Italian—’
Mary held up her hand, shutting down Gino’s interruption, before blustering on, ‘As I said, worst-case scenario: us three dressed as gondoliers, eating pizza, together on Valentine’s night.’
‘Mary’s right,’ Gino affirmed. ‘We’ve got nothing to lose.’
‘And best-case scenario — the night will be a success, you’ll both make a bit of money, I’ll get a date, and we’d have started to lift the spirits, and revenue, of the village before Pauline’s voice of doom predictions come true!’
Being won over by her friends’ enthusiasm, Ava held up her hands in surrender.
‘OK, I’m with you. Let’s do it. Whatever the fate of the village’ — whatever Henry’s plan — ‘we need to stay focused and kick some life back into this village. We need to put money in our tills and show what we’re made of.
Let’s show the new Lord Bramlington what he’d be missing if he returned to America.
’ Having spoken the words with conviction, Ava didn’t question her motives.
‘Yes!’ Gino punched the air. The sparkle in his dark eyes showing how happy he was to have Ava and Mary on board, as much as his infectious smile. ‘We’ll need to move fast. Put up posters—’
‘Get Pauline on board, she’ll get word round in no time,’ Mary suggested.
‘I’m on it,’ Pauline called from midway down the bar.
‘How does she do that?’ Mary whispered.
‘It’s a gift.’ Pauline winked, causing all three to giggle as if having been caught doing something they shouldn’t.
Gino lifted Ava’s glass, gesturing to see if she wanted another drink as he spoke. ‘I’ve already sorted the menu, and Chef’s on board with it. If you can give out a voucher when people buy an outfit from you, I’ll honour it with a free dessert.’
‘That’s great, thank you. If you’re sure. With Valentine’s just a week away, I’ll have to see what I’ve got at the shop.’ Ava took her replenished glass.
‘Stripy tops?’ Mary suggested.
‘You’re so not funny!’ Gino folded his arms, shaking his head.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You’re so easy to tease.’ Mary smiled.
‘I’ll do a range. Bold statement jewellery and patterned pieces as well as more demure outfits, for those wanting to go more minimal chic.’
Mary and Gino looked at Ava, eyes wide.
‘What? I’ve done my homework too, you know.’ She giggled. ‘Besides, if all else fails I’ll put the green, white and red sections together.’
‘Ha, you two make yourselves laugh.’ Gino feigned insult, before lifting his glass. ‘So it’s a goer?’
‘Yes!’ Mary and Ava lifted their glasses, clinking them against Gino’s to seal the deal.
As Mary went to put her glass down, she hesitated. ‘Do you think we’re being too couply? What about those who haven’t got someone to spend Valentine’s with?’
‘Like Flo,’ Ava suggested.
‘Hmm.’ Gino pondered. ‘We want to include as many people as possible.’
‘I know! We could have a single but happy to mingle table.’ Mary wiggled her eyebrows. ‘We could invite the new Lord—’
‘No!’ Ava and Gino spoke together.
Realising her cheeks had turned inextricably pink, she hastily continued, ‘As you said, this could end up being us three and a pizza, that’s—’
‘Not what Ital—’ Gino attempted to interject.
‘Good point.’ Mary nodded. ‘Let’s see how this one goes first and invite him to the next.’
Gino shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine the new Lord Bramlington coming to The Brown Dog, can you?’
Ava smiled. She found that so much easier to imagine than Henry raking the village for all its worth. She just hoped she was correct, and that she wasn’t letting her judgement of the man be swayed by her memory of the boy she had grown up with.