Chapter 5
Briar certainly knew how to put on a pleading expression.
‘I know it’s short notice—’
‘Short notice?’ Sam gave a brief laugh. ‘You can say that again. You’re really going away the day after tomorrow?’
‘It was a last-minute thing. My mate Cassie was going to Majorca with her two cousins, but one of them’s been taken to hospital with appendicitis so there’s no chance of her going now, and they want me to make up the group in her place.
I’ve never been abroad, except for a trip on the ferry to Rotterdam. Please, Sam?’
Sam saw the desperation in her eyes and sighed. She was like a sad puppy. How could he refuse?
‘Okay, okay. I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.’
Although he didn’t know how. It was the first Tuesday of the school summer holidays.
The pub would be busier than ever over the next few weeks, with the villagers and any residents of the caravan park who fancied a change from the site’s clubhouse, along with day trippers, birdwatchers, nature lovers, hikers, photographers…
His heart sank at the thought.
‘You’re a star, you really are,’ Briar informed him, and he managed a laugh.
‘I know. So everyone keeps telling me.’
It was true. So many of the residents were convinced he was an angel on earth, since he went out of his way to help them out.
Sam wondered what they’d say if they could read his thoughts.
They were certainly taking a darker turn lately.
His resentment was building – not against them, but against his life in general, as he faced the prospect of spending the rest of it alone, trapped behind the bar of this place.
Maybe it was time to face facts. He loved The North Star. He loved Kelsea Sands. Even when he’d rented the flat in Millensea he’d missed his home village and had gone back to see his dad as often as he could manage. But was there a future for him here?
He’d come back in good faith, honestly believing it would be a temporary thing. His dad would get back on his feet and resume working behind the bar. Sam would find another job, another flat. Eventually things would work out.
But it had been three years since his mum’s death, and his dad showed no signs of moving on. It was as if he didn’t want to. Sam was tired of worrying about him. Tired of running this pub alone. Tired of having no future to look forward to.
Was it time to admit defeat and put The North Star up for sale?
Not that it was his decision, of course. The pub belonged to his dad. But it was his dad who’d wanted to sell it in the first place, and Sam who’d stopped him. Had he made a terrible mistake?
He thought of the conversation he’d had with Luke earlier that morning. His friend had been buzzing with excitement and confidence.
A huge new estate was to be built on the northern fringes of Millensea, and Luke was one of the builders who’d each won a tender for the construction of multiple houses on a parcel of the land.
It meant he’d have plenty of work for months, and with construction due to start in January, he was feeling happy and positive.
Sam had been really pleased for him, naturally. Luke was a good man and deserved this, especially as he had a wife and two young children to support. Sam didn’t begrudge him any of it, though he couldn’t help comparing his own life to that of his friend.
Luke, it seemed to him, had everything Sam had ever wanted.
‘There’ll be plenty of work for you, if you’re interested,’ Luke had ventured. ‘Not that I’m trying to pressure you in any way, and if you’re happy at the pub, that’s fine. I just thought I’d mention it. Just in case.’
Sam had groaned inwardly. It was a tempting thought. But how could he?
Unless he really did suggest to his father that maybe it was time to sell The North Star after all?
But The North Star was home. It always had been.
And once that had gone it would be almost impossible for his dad to stay in Kelsea Sands, because accommodation was very hard to come by.
Houses rarely came up for sale, and he couldn’t think of any to rent.
That was why Rosie Wainwright had bought herself a caravan when she returned to the village after living in Sheffield for years.
She couldn’t find a house, so a caravan was her only option.
She lived on site for eleven months of the year and spent January at her parents’ home.
There’d be no such option for Sam or his dad.
If they said goodbye to Kelsea Sands, it would probably be forever.
Would his dad want that? Really?
Did Sam?
He sighed, watching Briar as she cheerfully wiped down the tables, all smiles now that she’d had her leave confirmed. He envied her, skipping off abroad with her friends. She was only nineteen. Her whole life was ahead of her. He, meanwhile, felt worn out and ancient.
‘Just going upstairs, Briar,’ he called, and she nodded in return, her eyes shining with happiness.
His dad was in the kitchen, frying up a hearty breakfast. Well, it was breakfast to him since he’d not long got out of bed, even though it was quarter to eleven and Sam had been up for hours.
‘Hungry, Dad?’ Sam enquired, noting the vast number of sausages and what looked like half a packet of bacon in the pan.
‘Just fancied it, that’s all. Not had a cooked breakfast for ages. Do you want some?’
Sam shook his head. ‘I’ll wait for my dinner. I had breakfast hours ago. Dad?’
His father gave him a knowing look.
‘I know that voice. What do you want? Some favour, no doubt.’
Sam shrugged. ‘Not really a favour. I’m only asking you to do what you should be doing anyway.’ Maybe, he thought, it was time to stop mollycoddling his dad and start talking straight with him.
‘Oh, aye? And what does that mean?’
‘Briar’s going on holiday. Last-minute thing. It means I’m going to be short-staffed for a couple of weeks, what with Cathy already being off for a fortnight as of yesterday. And you know how busy it gets at this time of year. So I was thinking, maybe it’s time you came back to work.’
His dad turned the sausages over in the pan, his lips pursed.
Sam watched him, waiting for some response, but none came.
‘Dad?’
Seb gave him a brief look. ‘I told you, I’ve finished with all that.’
‘But that was then! Surely, after all this time, you’re ready to start in the pub again? You must be bored stiff hanging around here all day. It’s not good for you, Dad!’
‘I’m perfectly happy up here, thanks very much.’
‘Happy? How can you be happy? You do nothing but sleep, eat, and watch television! That’s not a life!’
‘It’s more than your mother has,’ Seb said quietly.
Sam swallowed. ‘Do you think she’d want this for you? Mum loved this place. She was the heart and soul of The North Star.’
‘Aye, she was. And now she’s gone I don’t see the point. The place isn’t the same. Why would I want to go down there and see those rooms empty? Because they would be, you know. Empty. Doesn’t matter how many customers you’ve got. If Donna’s not there it’ll be empty, and I can’t… I can’t…’
He shook his head and turned back to the pan, flipping the bacon over and glaring at the spitting fat, as if it was purposely trying to annoy him.
Sam threw up his hands in despair. ‘Well, I can’t go on like this much longer. This was supposed to be a temporary thing – me living and working here. I gave up my job. I gave up my flat—’
‘I never asked you to!’ His dad’s tone was sharp, accusing.
‘I told you I wanted to sell up but you wouldn’t have it, would you?
You can’t go blaming me now if you’re fed up.
You should have let me sell the place when I first told you about it, instead of thinking you knew best, like you always do. ’
Sam stared at him. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Treat me like a kid, don’t you? Like I haven’t got a mind of my own.
Do you think I don’t know? Do you think I don’t see what’s in your mind?
Poor Dad. Lost his marbles since Mum died.
Can’t function without her. She was the one who sorted everything out for him.
Without her he’s nothing. I’ll have to step in and take over until he comes to his senses. ’
‘It wasn’t like that…’
But had it been? It was true that his mum had taken care of his dad in every way possible. She’d certainly made all the important decisions and Dad just went along with her. He’d been devoted to her. He’d give her anything. Without her, it really seemed like he had no purpose, no direction.
‘It’s exactly like that. You think I can’t make a decision without your mum to hold my hand.
Well, I made a decision, didn’t I? I said I wanted shot of the pub, and you said no.
You decided my decision wasn’t good enough, so there you go.
Overruled, I was. Like I was a daft kid who couldn’t make choices for myself.
So you’ve made your bed and as far as I’m concerned you can lie in it.
This pub’s your responsibility. I told you, do what you like with it and leave me out of it. ’
Sam watched, dumbstruck, as his dad heaped the sausages and bacon onto a plate, pouring hot baked beans over them.
As Seb gave him a satisfied smirk and sat at the table, it was too much for Sam.
‘You’ve turned into a selfish prat, do you know that?’
‘Oh, that’s what you think, is it?’
‘I gave up everything to help you!’
‘I didn’t ask you to. I didn’t want you to. I told you what I wanted, and you ignored me.’
‘Because I thought you’d regret it! I thought it was too soon after Mum’s death for you to make such a big decision, and I didn’t want you to lose the pub and your home and then wish you hadn’t. Because once you’d sold it, there’d be no going back. Not ever.’
‘And who says I want to?’
‘But you’ve always lived here!’
‘Lived here?’ His father gave a bitter laugh.
‘Oh, son. Do you really think this is living?’ He shook his head.
‘Now your mum’s gone it’s not a life, not any more.
I’m just existing. Passing time until I can be with her again.
I can do that anywhere. What do I care about bricks and mortar?
Your mum was my North Star. This is just a building, and I don’t give a monkey’s what happens to it or where I end up living. So now you know.’
Sam dropped into the chair opposite his dad and gazed at him, his eyes brimming with tears. ‘Don’t talk like that, please.’
‘It’s the truth.’ His dad shrugged. ‘No big deal. I’ve had my life.’
‘Dad, you’re only sixty-two!’
‘Like I said. I’ve had my life.’
‘That’s rubbish! Look at Mac. He’s the same age as you. He was in your class at school. So was Alison, come to that! Are they talking like that? Do you see them giving up on life and saying they’re just waiting to die? They’re starting a new venture – a new business!’
‘They’ve got each other. It’s different for them. What have I got?’
‘What have you got? You’ve got me. You’ve got a business. You’re fit and healthy and bloody lucky, and I can’t believe you’re giving up like this. Mum would be furious with you!’
His dad paused in his eating and stared at him. ‘What gives you the right to say that to me? How dare you?’
Sam rubbed his forehead. ‘Maybe I just don’t know what else to say, Dad. I’m at my wits’ end with you, if you must know.’
His dad shrugged. ‘Well, I’ve said all I’ve got to say.’
Sam leaned back in his chair and took a steadying breath. ‘Okay. Right. Well, maybe it’s time you listened then. I’ve had an offer of work from Luke.’
There was a flicker of something in his dad’s eyes, but no comment.
‘He wants me to go back to the building trade. He’s won a contract at the new estate in Millensea – you know the old Starlings site? Well, there’s going to be a lot of work, and he wants me to join him.’
His dad continued eating.
‘I told him I couldn’t, but now I’m thinking, why not? Let’s face it, you’re not going to return to pub work, are you? You’ve just made your feelings perfectly clear, and I realise now I was fooling myself. So, you win.’
A raised eyebrow. ‘Win? Win what?’
Sam took a deep breath before plunging on.
‘I’m holding up my hands. I quit. I can see now that I’m wasting my time.
You were right. You should put the pub up for sale.
I’ll stay on to help until it’s sold, but by January I’ll be back working for Luke and that’s all there is to it.
I suggest you start thinking about where you want to live after the sale goes through. ’
He got up and left Seb sitting at the table, a fork held aloft in the air as his dad absorbed what he’d just told him.
As he headed back downstairs to the bar, Sam thought about Briar and Kenny and Cathy and the other members of staff who worked there.
He thought about the regulars who considered The North Star to be like a second home, with the Hughes family almost as part of their own families.
He thought about those incredible views over the Humber, and sunny summer days, and hungry hikers, and excited nature lovers and birdwatchers, and the days when his grandparents were alive and there’d been shanty nights and singalongs and Christmas parties and Easter egg hunts for the local children.
They’d extended it, painted it, and transformed it from the small, basic red brick pub their own grandparents had started into something beautiful and special. A home from home for the residents of Kelsea Sands.
He thought about his mum, and how much she’d loved the pub. How, as a little boy, he’d watched her putting on her make-up and styling her hair every morning, because she said the customers deserved to see their landlady looking her best.
How she’d chat to everyone who walked through the door, and enquire after their families, and commiserate and sympathise and cheer and celebrate with them.
He remembered his dad, proud as punch to see his name over the door, and the sound of his parents’ laughter and the buzz of conversation in the bar and the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen and the packets of crisps he’d sneak out of the boxes in the back to his eager school pals who were waiting outside.
His stomach twisted and his throat filled with emotion at the thought of all he would be losing. What the village might lose.
But he couldn’t carry on like this any longer. He was lonely, that was the truth of it, and no amount of running around after the neighbours and friendly chats with his customers could fill that aching gap in his heart.
There was no future for him in Kelsea Sands. He just wished he’d realised that sooner.