Chapter 24 #2
There was the faintest light visible from between the dark trees that surrounded the garden, shielding it from passers-by.
He thought about the people inside. It was Jenna’s night off and he wondered if she was in bed already.
Or was she sitting in the living room with her mum and Mac, drinking tea and watching the television?
Was she gazing out of her bedroom window at the black waters of the Humber, thinking about him as he was thinking about her?
Or was it, he wondered brokenly, still Joel who occupied her thoughts?
He would probably never know. His shoulders drooped as he headed into The North Star, letting the buzz of conversation and the occasional shouts of laughter wash over him.
As he headed into the bar to check everything was okay, he stopped, astonished to see his dad standing behind the counter, deep in conversation with Stella.
He’d left the bar in Cathy’s and Briar’s capable hands and hadn’t expected Seb to make another appearance.
‘Everything okay, Dad? Hi, Stella. What are you doing here?’ he asked, smiling.
He knew she was on his side about the future of The North Star, which he’d be forever grateful for, even if it hadn’t worked out as they’d hoped.
More than that, though, he thought she was good for his dad.
Their little chats always seemed to cheer him up, and she certainly told him what she thought.
There were no guessing games with Stella.
His father waved a hand in greeting, and Stella looked round, a huge smile on her face.
‘Hello, Sam. We were just chatting about carveries,’ she told him cheerfully.
Sam frowned. ‘Were you? What about them?’ It was only a few weeks ago he’d tried to talk to his dad about starting a carvery here, but his father had shown no interest back then, so it was a bit surprising that he was willing to have a conversation about them with Stella.
‘Stella was saying that we ought to have one here,’ Seb said.
‘A weekly one, for starters. Every Sunday. It would pack the place, I’ll guarantee it.’ Stella nodded furiously, as if Sam was about to disagree with her.
‘Well, yes,’ he said with a shrug. ‘That’s what I think, too.’
‘You see?’ Stella punched Seb playfully on the arm. ‘Told you it was a good idea.’
‘Aye, and you might be right,’ Seb agreed.
Sam’s mouth fell open. Bloody charming! He shook his head, then laughed to himself. What did it matter anyway?
‘Tell him our other idea,’ Stella said eagerly.
Seb stroked his chin as Sam’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, I don’t reckon he’ll think much of it. He won’t remember, you see, and it’s not really for his generation, is it?’
‘Rubbish,’ Stella said. ‘What about Fisherman’s Friends? Brilliant films. My kids watched them both and loved them, and I know for a fact that our Crystal has the CDs. She plays them in her car all the time and she’s younger than Sam here.’
‘What are you on about?’ Sam asked, bewildered.
‘Sea shanties, lad,’ his dad said. ‘You’re too young to remember, I reckon, but we used to have shanty nights here in the pub most weekends and midweek an’ all if we were busy. Used to bring the crowds in, all right.’
‘My mum and dad used to love them, till he cleared off, of course,’ Stella said. She waved her glass of orange juice at a thoroughly perplexed Sam. ‘What do you think? Worth bringing them back?’
‘I… I don’t understand.’
‘It’s a simple enough question, lad,’ his dad said quietly. ‘How do you feel about us bringing back Shanty Night?’
‘Us?’ Sam asked.
‘Well, not you, obviously. You’ll be busy working on that new estate up in Millensea. I mean me, I suppose.’
‘And me,’ Stella said. ‘I’ve told your dad I’m quite happy to help. I need something to do, and I’ve got lots of experience in the hospitality trade, what with running two holiday parks for years and organising all the entertainment on them.’
‘I thought you were working with Mac on the shepherd’s hut business?’ Sam asked, though all the while he was thinking, Am I dreaming? What was this about? Was his dad really making plans for the future – a future at The North Star?
‘I was – I am,’ she said, ‘but truthfully, he doesn’t need me much. I’m mostly there to run the website. I can do that with my eyes closed. This is a bit more of a challenge, and your dad and I have always got on, haven’t we, Seb?’
‘Pain in the bum, you were,’ his dad replied, laughing. ‘Always hanging round when me and Mac wanted to get up to all sorts of mischief in the village, and we couldn’t trust you not to tell your mam.’
Stella laughed, too. ‘Well, you shouldn’t have been so mean. I wanted to get up to mischief, too, but you wouldn’t let me join you.’
Sam held up his hands. ‘Sorry, can we just rewind here? What are you talking about carveries and shanty nights for? You do remember that the pub’s up for sale?’
‘Not very observant, is he?’ his dad said.
Stella grinned. ‘Did you notice the For Sale sign outside, Sam?’
Sam blinked. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t. Cos it’s not there any more. Your dad took it down this afternoon, to loud cheers from everyone in the pub, I might add.’
Sam stared. ‘Are you joking? You’ve changed your mind?’
His dad had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I’m right sorry, lad,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ve been a daft sod and there’s no getting away from it. I’ve put way too much on your shoulders and I’m ashamed. Stella’s made me see just what a selfish bugger I’ve been, and proper stupid an’ all.’
‘I should hope so,’ Stella said. ‘Sitting on a little goldmine here, he is, and there he was, prepared to let it all go to someone who’d done nothing to deserve it. We’re going to breathe new life into this place, aren’t we, Seb?’
‘I reckon,’ his dad said. He gave Sam an anxious look. ‘I think your mum would approve, Sam, don’t you?’
Seb’s eyes gleamed with tears, and Sam reached over and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘Dad,’ he said, ‘I honestly think she’d be over the moon.’
His dad nodded, seeming unable to say anything more.
‘Well, now that’s settled,’ Stella said, climbing off the stool, ‘I think I’ll bid you both a goodnight and head home. Don’t forget to call the estate agent’s first thing Monday morning to tell them to take it off the market, Seb. You’ll remind him, won’t you, Sam?’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Sam assured her. ‘I’ll remind him all right.’
After they’d waved Stella off, Seb turned to Sam, his eyes full of anxiety.
‘You don’t mind, do you, lad? About Stella stepping in to help, I mean?’
‘Why should I? I’m delighted. Takes some of the burden off you, for a start.’
‘And off you,’ his dad said heavily. ‘I really am sorry, Sam. I don’t know where to start apologising. If it hadn’t been for you…’
‘There’s no need to say anything, Dad. I’m just glad you’ve finally made up your mind where it is you want to be.’
‘Here,’ his dad said, smiling as he looked around the busy bar. ‘Where I belong.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You don’t have to worry, you know. Me and Stella – we’re just friends. There’s nothing else to it.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ Sam shook his head. ‘I really wouldn’t mind if there was. In fact, I’d be delighted. So would Mum.’
‘No, no. Nothing like that,’ his dad said, shaking his head determinedly. Then he grinned. ‘Mind you, she does have some cracking ideas. A carvery, eh? Now you’ve got to admit, that’s worth thinking about, isn’t it?’
Sam managed to hide his laughter. ‘Yes, Dad. It really is. Why on earth didn’t we think of it ourselves?’