Chapter 4
Lullbury Bay Craft Distillery Gin – smooth classic juniper flavour with a subtle bite. An acquired taste.
O pening up at eleven, she was met at the door by Pete and the collie. She sighed a little. Was she destined to be surrounded by old men today?
‘What are these then?’ He peered suspiciously at the chilli nuts and hand-cut crisps displayed in pretty glass dishes on the bar.
‘Bar snacks.’ Livvy began pulling his pint of cider.
Pete wrinkled up his nose.
‘They’re free,’ she added, placing his full glass on the bar mat.
‘In that case, I’ll have me a few.’ He scooped up an enormous handful, grabbed his pint and shuffled off to his corner.
‘Here, Skip.’ Livvy threw a dog treat which the collie caught deftly.
‘You’ll never make a profit that way.’ Pete chuckled. ‘Giving folk free stuff.’
‘I won’t if you’re my only regular,’ Livvy muttered under her breath.
This wasn’t her idea of how her pub would be.
In her head she had sanded wooden floors, a wood burner gusting out heat, quirky artwork on the walls.
She looked around at the fusion of clashing and worn patterns and huffed.
Was she mad to take this on? Pete opened his newspaper and shook it hard.
Sipping his pint and eating his chilli nuts one by one, he looked set for the day.
How would he feel about the changes she wanted to make?
She needed to attract a different clientele, those who would spend generously and enjoy the ambience she wanted to create.
But she needed to be fair to the established regulars, like Pete, too.
Suppressing a smile, she couldn’t help but think how different he was to the sort of customer her father’s hotels dealt with.
Both difficult in their way but both deserving of the very best in hospitality.
She looked around at the otherwise empty pub.
Maybe it was too optimistic to expect many in on a Thursday lunchtime in October, but she’d hoped for more customers than Pete and his dog.
Her heart sank. If this was going to be what it was like, there hardly seemed any point in making any changes at all.
Get a grip, Liv, she scolded. Remember your dream. Leaning on the bar, she grabbed a notebook and began outlining an advert for a chef. The sooner she had someone in the kitchen the better.
‘Good morning.’
Livvy looked up to see a tall, slender man, maybe in his forties, standing at the bar.
He had pale hair which had possibly once been blond and wore a three-piece suit with studied elegance.
A pair of expensive-looking glasses with thin black frames completed the urbane effect.
He must move silently, like a cat, as she hadn’t heard him come in.
‘Good morning.’ She glanced at the ancient station clock on the wall. She liked it and had decided it would stay. ‘Although I rather think it’s good afternoon.’ She smiled warmly. ‘What can I get you?’
‘A gin and tonic if I may. Local if you have it. Salcombe otherwise. Botanicals tonic.’ He held out a hand. ‘And perhaps we should compromise on hello. Saves all the tedious uncertainty of when it’s morning and when it’s afternoon. It’s so good to see the old place open again. I’m Jason Lemmon.’
Livvy shook his hand, hoping her own wasn’t too sticky from Pete’s cider. ‘Livvy Smith. Your new landlady.’
‘Delighted.’
‘Ice and lemon?’
Jason smiled. He had very white teeth and the smile warmed his otherwise chilly, patrician features. ‘Of course.’
‘Help yourself to bar snacks. Please.’ Turning her back on him to make his drink, she was relieved she’d taken her gin stock seriously and had a range of local ones in.
When she turned back, she was delighted to see him eating a kettle crisp.
Just the one. He was nibbling it with a fastidious reserve.
‘These are very good.’
‘I’m afraid we’re not doing any food just yet. But hopefully soon. Just as soon as I’ve appointed staff.’
‘Ah. Not a worry. I seldom eat lunch.’
Livvy could believe it. The man was scarily lean. She gestured to the notepad in front of her. ‘I was drafting out an ad just now.’
‘Who do you need?’
Livvy picked up her biro and tapped it against her teeth. ‘A chef who knows what he’s doing, plus a sous chef and waiting staff. Eventually I’d like an experienced barman and cellarman too.’ She caught herself and blushed. ‘They might have to wait until things pick up.’
Jason sipped his G and T. ‘You have big plans for this place, I take it?’
Livvy nodded eagerly. ‘There’s a function room at the back I’d like to renovate as a restaurant, and I’d really like to refurb this place too.
Hoping for the gastropub vibe.’ She paused.
Having voiced it she wasn’t sure this was still her vision.
Austin’s words about the place being Old Pete’s lifeline returned.
‘I need to take it one step at a time though,’ she added.
‘It sounds a very promising plan, and I for one would welcome another fine dining choice in Lullbury.’
Pete ambled up to the bar. He nodded curtly at Jason.
‘What do you think of our new landlady’s schemes, Pete?’ Jason asked.
Livvy stiffened. She wondered if Jason was stirring things. An old man like Pete surely wouldn’t welcome change to his local.
‘As long as I gets a good pint of cider and Skip is still welcome, I ain’t complaining.
’ He took the fresh pint Livvy had poured and turned to go.
Then stopped and turned back. He wagged a finger, its joints thickened with arthritis.
‘Don’t you go messing with the skittle alley though, you hear.
The lads are looking forward to the winter season.
Tain’t been the same without the alley being open.
’ He ambled back to his seat, spilling a little cider on the carpet.
Jason pursed his lips. ‘There’s your answer. Change is acceptable as long as there is no change.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘About sums up this town.’ His eyes flickered. ‘It’s a lot to take on. For someone on their own. Which I assume you are?’
Livvy squared her shoulders. ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. My parents have been in the hotel trade all their lives. I used to work for them. I know my stuff.’
‘Good. Then I wish you all the luck in the world.’ Draining his glass, he put up a hand in farewell. ‘And I may have someone in mind for your kitchen. I’ll ask him to get in touch.’
Livvy watched Jason’s departure thoughtfully.
Taking a crisp, she glanced through the notes she’d made.
A personal recommendation would be far better than attracting some randoms through an ad.
She took another crisp. Jason was right; they were delicious.
Far too nice to give away. She eyed the generously filled bowls she’d put out so optimistically.
She couldn’t afford this. She’d have to keep the better stuff back to sell and try to make at least a small amount of profit.
She’d put out some cheaper snacks on the bar.
Glancing over at Pete, his chin nodding against his chest as he dozed off over a copy of the Lullbury Bay Echo , her thoughts strayed to the skittle alley.
She’d had no idea pub skittles were still so popular.
The alley was a long narrow building snaking along from the side of the pub held up, from what she could see, with ivy and mould.
It had an ancient, corrugated tin roof that was well down on the list of renovations.
A team of skittles players coming in once, maybe twice a week would bolster her takings through the winter until the tourist season began again. Might be worth keeping going.
A gout of wind threw hail at the window, the sunshine of the early morning having long gone.
It made her look up and her glance took in the darts board.
She’d been planning on getting rid of it as soon as possible.
A mistake? Darts teams, like skittles players, liked the odd pint or three.
Perhaps she’d keep it. At least for a while.
Too much change too soon might not be wise.
And maybe Austin Ruddick had a point about the pub being all people like Old Pete had.