Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
By day seven at The Jekyll and Hyde, the early buzz had dulled into the usual village rhythm. Steady and predictable, punctured by the odd complaint.
‘We’ve had a few grumbles from the regulars,’ said Ed. ‘Moaning that sausages, beans and chips aren’t on the menu, and what’s wrong with a nice gammon steak and pineapple.’
Beth bit her tongue. Pineapple belonged nowhere near savoury food; the very thought made her skin crawl. But the customer came first. Always.
‘I can dial the menu down a notch,’ she said. ‘Keep some quirkiness but add more classics.’
‘We’ve already got pie and fish and chips.’ Ed smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s early days, Beth. Give them time and they’ll come round.’
Time. Beth wondered how much of it she’d need before she stopped feeling like an imposter. She’d swept in wanting to prove herself, hoping passion and creativity would somehow magic away the grief that clung to her like smoke. Ed and Angela believed in her. That should be enough.
But she didn’t really believe in herself.
‘Are you all sorted in the basement?’ Angela’s voice cut in, bright and warm.
She appeared with Jinnie in tow, babies Ruairi and Dahlia nestled against them, and a tall man behind.
He was handsome, steady and oozed easy confidence.
Judging by the way he gazed adoringly at Jinnie and Dahlia, he had to be Jinnie’s husband, Sam.
Jinnie headed off to the rest room, cradling Dahlia who’d started to grizzle.
‘I'm getting there,’ Beth said.
‘Have you two met?’ Angela nodded at Sam. ‘No, I don’t think you have. Sam, this is Beth.’
Beth shook Sam’s hand. A sudden chill snaked down her spine, and she jerked her hand back too quickly. Brilliant. Now she was the woman who hated babies and handshakes.
‘Nice to meet you, Beth.’ Sam’s face remained neutral apart from a tiny twitch of his left eyebrow. That meant nothing, but… His face seemed familiar. Something to do with Luke. Luke, who loved to read thrillers, the darker and gorier the better—
‘You’re Alistair Scott! My husband loved your books.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I recognise your face from one of them. Not my thing: I read fluffy stuff. I mean…’
She stopped. Too late.
Silence swelled between them. Even Ruairi stopped chewing his knuckles and gawped at her.
‘Oh, Beth,’ Angela breathed, eyes filling. ‘We didn’t know. We didn’t even ask. How long since he … he passed?’
Passed?
‘He’s not dead,’ Beth blurted. ‘Luke’s alive. We’re just … not together anymore.’
Relief flashed across Angela’s face. ‘Oh, that’s great! I mean, that he’s not dead. It’s great he’s still alive, isn’t it, Sam?’
Sam made an awkward sound. ‘I think we can all agree that’s a good thing. Beth, we’ll give you some space now.’
Jinnie reappeared, looking flustered.
‘Aren’t Wilma and Gus expecting us?’ said Sam, looking at his watch.
‘Are they? Oh, yes.’ Jinnie clutched Dahlia possessively. ‘Let’s get going. Bye!’
The trio beat a hasty retreat, leaving Beth, Ed and Angela in an awkward silence that extended into a vacuum of wordlessness.
Beth spoke first. ‘There’s a pinball machine in the basement.’
Angela blinked. ‘Is there?’
Ed frowned, then recognition dawned. ‘I’d forgotten all about that. Dad mentioned it when they took over the pub. Apparently it glitched all the time, so they put it into storage. It should really go to the dump, but we never got round to it.’
‘Glitched how?’ Beth realised her question might seem odd. Scratch that; borderline barking mad.
‘Erm, I was in my teens when they pulled the plug – excuse the pun – so I don’t really remember. I think it gave out wonky scores. Oh, and someone claimed it spoke to them.’
Angela snorted. ‘It’s amazing what a drink or six can do to someone’s faculties. I’m so glad I quit. Not that doing so has given me genius status.’
Ed chuckled and kissed her cheek. ‘Who needs brains when you’ve got beauty?’
‘What’s your excuse for having neither?’ she shot back, elbowing him.
Their easy affection pierced Beth like a blade slipped between her ribs. Familiar ache, familiar burn. She swallowed it down.
‘Beth?’ Angela’s voice was gentle. ‘Are you OK?’
Beth forced a brittle smile. In another life, she’d have leaned into that kindness. But in this one… Her heart had room for exactly one confidante: Diana. No more.
‘Sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve got a thing about pinball machines. Luke and I… It doesn’t matter. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.’
She fled to the basement, half-expecting Ed and Angela to follow. They didn’t.
‘Hello, Wish Master.’
Nothing. Zip. Nada. The pinball machine remained inanimate.
Of course it did. Some 1970s piece of junk that had entertained in its time, but now?
She approached. The machine loomed in the dim light, silent and harmless.
‘I imagined it,’ she said firmly. ‘Sadness can make you see things. Hear things. Like—’ Her throat caught. ‘Like a baby you’ll never hold.’
‘Hey, foxy mama.’
Beth reeled back so violently she slipped and hit the floor.
The bulbs flared to life – red, green, gold – washing the walls in shimmering light. Music chimed, strangely exotic, threads of melody winding through the air.
She froze.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ a voice boomed. ‘Long time since someone played me. But first, let’s put some zing into the ka-ching!’
A figure shimmered into view above the machine. Misty, but human-shaped. Portly, wearing a sequinned waistcoat, absurd harem trousers and a gold medallion, swinging over a rounded belly.
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ Beth whispered.
‘Not at all, sweetheart,’ the figure crooned. ‘The name’s Gigi. You got any coins?’
Beth scrambled backwards, reaching for anything solid. The world spun sideways.
Her hand skidded across the floor: her head cracked against a crate.
Stars burst. Then everything went black.
When she came round, the basement was filled with silence. No lights. No music. No Gigi. Just dust motes drifting through weak light and the relentless ticking of an ancient clock.
Beth groaned, rubbing the back of her skull. ‘Brilliant. Knocked myself out. Seeing things now, am I?’
Her laugh was half-tremble, half-hysteria.
The pinball machine stood inert. Dead. Nothing more than wood, glass, and peeling paint. A relic from a bygone era.
‘All in my imagination,’ she muttered, forcing her voice steady.
She rose slowly, dizzy but determined, and walked towards the stairs. Because whatever had happened here…
Beth wasn’t ready to let anyone know she’d seen an apparition in harem trousers who'd called himself Gigi.
Not yet.
Probably never.