Chapter 15
Cappuccino – espresso based, prepared with steamed milk, milk foam, cocoa powder. The perfect morning pick-me-up.
O n Monday, the only day The George shut, Livvy braved the piercingly cold and very Christmassy weather to visit the art school.
She decided to walk, wanting to get some fresh air.
Daisy’s words nagged at her. It made sense to take time for herself.
Work-life balance was important, but she had no earthly idea how she’d achieve it.
She marched briskly down the hill into town, swinging her arms to keep warm. Above her was a sky of peerless blue and the sea sparkled shades of sapphire and green, topped with foamy crested waves. Lullbury Bay, on a day like this, was a good place to live.
She found the art school eventually. It was tucked away behind a housing estate and next to some tennis courts.
Crossing over the unpromising-looking car park she went inside to be greeted by white corridors hung with photographs and paintings and followed the hubbub of noise and a sign saying, ‘Artisans’ Show This Way’ to an enormous, light flooded studio.
Standing at the doorway she paused for a second to take it all in.
The white walls were hung with huge seascapes and some abstracts; a gigantic Christmas tree dominated one corner decked in tasteful white and silver; and arranged around the room were trestle tables crammed with crafts for sale.
Snatches of ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ could be heard when there was the occasional lull in chatter.
‘Hey, Livvy!’ It was Daisy calling her from the corner opposite the tree. She was dwarfed by a collection of wicker baskets brimming with winter greenery, next to a table heaped with wreaths of all sizes and colours.
Going over she said, ‘Hi, Daisy. Thanks for the invite. When you rang and mentioned a Christmas craft fayre, I didn’t anticipate anything like this.’
‘It’s brilliant, isn’t it? One of my favourite things to do in the run-up to Christmas.
This is slightly different to the usual ones.
They’re usually full-on Christmas with mulled wine, carols and mince pies.
Dave, who runs the place, is booked up with stuff in December so he decided to try a more streamlined version out.
Make sure you have a good look round. There’s some really excellent stuff for sale and all made by the artists who work here.
’ She plucked a length of holly from one of the baskets, the bright red berries gleaming against the glossy leaves.
‘And don’t forget all your Christmas greenery.
It’s traditional to bring some evergreen in at this time of year! ’
Livvy laughed. Daisy never seemed to miss a selling opportunity. ‘I won’t. I’ll come back for some holly and mistletoe.’
‘Ooh, who are you planning on kissing this Christmas?’
A stocky middle-aged man in dungarees and a red beret approached. It saved Livvy the embarrassment of having to answer. Who did she want to kiss this Christmas? With Jason, Fabio and Mark around she had quite the choice. Not to mention the Three Ds and Old Pete, she giggled to herself.
Mr Red Beret handed Daisy a mug of steaming hot chocolate. ‘There you go, my lovely. No marshmallows but best I could do.’
Daisy took it, cupping her hands around the mug emblazoned with, ‘Father Christmas does it Up the Chimney’. ‘Thanks, Dave. Have you met Livvy? She’s taken on The George.’
He clasped Livvy’s hand and pumped it vigorously.
‘Nice to meet you, my friend. Dave Wiscombe. Bloke in charge for my sins. I was at your bonfire and fireworks on Saturday. Had an ace time. Good to see the place open again. And our Eli is going to work for you, I understand? He’s my nephew.
Good lad but easily led. Firm hand and he’ll do okay for you. ’
‘Thanks.’ Livvy smiled. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. I’ve got Karl Comberford working for me too.’
Dave brightened at the name. ‘He’ll help you sort him out.
Good bloke, is Karl. Now, my lovely, make sure you look at Jago Pengethley’s stuff.
His glass light catchers make great presents.
And check out the pottery and jewellery.
All made on the premises. We’ve got eleven artists and crafts people working here now.
Lots of excellent Christmas present ideas. ’
‘Thank you, I will.’ She looked at the painting on the wall behind them. It was simple but effective, broad creamy stripes of sand against deepening shades of blue. A thought occurred. ‘Dave, would you consider letting me display some of your paintings in my pub?’
A cunning look crept into his eyes. ‘What, for sale you mean?’
Livvy nodded. ‘I’d like to showcase some local talent. My walls are very bare and paintings like the one there would be the perfect backdrop.’ She pointed out the landscape.
Dave turned to look. ‘That’s by Vivienne Little. She’s very talented. Does a lot of seascapes. Dunno though, not sure I’d want to risk some of ’em in a pub. Can get a bit lairy, like, in a bar sometimes. Wouldn’t want them wrecked.’
‘Neither would I,’ Livvy said, horrified. She hadn’t considered that. ‘Maybe just in the restaurant then? It’ll be seated meals, waiter service in there. And I run a strict house. Anyone getting drunk gets thrown out.’
‘Tell you what, I’ll have a chat with Viv, see what she says. She’d get more eyes on them than they get down here, that’s a fact.’
‘Thank you. And do pop in for a pint one night.’
He tugged his beret in a salute. ‘Will do.’
Livvy said her goodbyes and wandered the craft fayre, going from table to table.
She bought three glass robin tree decorations and a beautiful light-catcher scene of a yacht bobbing on a turquoise sea, all from a piratical-looking man with curly dark hair and an earring.
Taking his card, she saw it was Jago Pengethley.
Having had a brief chat with him and admiring the large glass panels he also made; she wondered if she could squeeze one in the pub somewhere.
From the next table along, she bought a pair of amber drop earrings which she knew her mother would love.
She’d add the glass light catcher to them to make up her mother’s Christmas present.
Her father was more difficult to buy for.
She’d been happily browsing some beautifully carved wooden bowls when she turned too quickly and bumped into a tall gazelle-like woman behind her. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. I do apologise.’
‘Not a problem. I wasn’t looking where I was going.
Too many lovely things to distract me. I’m going shop happy.
’ The woman frowned, gazing at Livvy more closely.
‘Didn’t I see you at the bonfire party on Saturday?
Are you new to Lullbury Bay. Forgive me, out of the holiday season, everyone generally knows everyone else. ’
‘I’m Livvy Smith. I own The George.’
‘Of course you do. I’d heard it had been taken over.
Welcome to Lullbury Bay. The bonfire party was fantastic, by the way, I had such a lovely time.
’ The woman extended a hand. ‘I’m Bee. I run the bookshop and community café.
Look, I don’t know about you but I’m getting buyer fatigue.
Do you fancy a coffee and some cake? They’ve turned the staff room here into a pop-up café. ’
‘Perfect.’ Livvy groaned. ‘There are so many nice things here if I’m not careful I’ll max out my credit card.’
Bee exclaimed in mock horror. ‘And it’s far too soon before Christmas to do that. Come on. Let’s find cake.’
They squeezed through the tiny gaps between the tables in the makeshift café.
It was busy. Bee waved and said hello to lots of people as they settled at a table; she seemed to know everyone.
Although cramped, the café hummed with the comfortingly sweet smells of vanilla and sugar, and good roasted coffee.
A curvy woman with bright pink hair served them and Bee introduced her as Tracy who usually ran The Sea Spray Café on the seafront.
‘You have to try Tracy’s cooked breakfast,’ Bee added. ‘Best in Dorset.’
‘Ah!’ Livvy said. ‘I’ve heard it’s the place to go for hot chocolate too. I met Alan, no I’ve got that wrong, Austin, is it? We shared a friendship bench and he recommended the hot chocolate at The Sea Spray.’
‘Austin’s one of my best customers.’ Tracy rested a hand on a comfortably ample hip. ‘Come down one day, maid, and I’ll treat you. Only doing tea, coffee and cake here mind but we do have some mincemeat shortbread which is melt in the mouth and don’t half go down well.’
‘Sold,’ Livvy said. When Tracy had gone, she turned to Bee. ‘Austin also said you’d won a community award. For the friendship benches. Have to admit I didn’t have a clue what they were when he began talking to me but I can see it works really well. It’s a fantastic idea. Congratulations.’
Bee nodded. ‘Simple idea but effective. Even in a town like this one where everyone knows one another, or is related,’ she grinned, ‘usually to the Wiscombe family, there are still the lonely, the ones who don’t find it easy to strike up a chat.
Or the ones who aren’t into joining clubs or societies. ’
Livvy thought of Pete. ‘Would it work in a pub, do you think?’
Bee frowned. ‘Always thought pubs were where conversations happened spontaneously anyway.’
‘You have a point, although I’m not sure people find it as easy post lockdown. Some have lost the knack of talking.’
‘I agree. Ah, here comes our coffee and shortbread. Thanks, Tracy.’
‘You’re welcome. I put you a slice of coffee and walnut each too. Enjoy!’
Livvy nibbled the mincemeat shortbread. She moaned. ‘So good.’
Bee laughed. ‘Don’t know how she does it, but Tracy’s got a knack with food.’
‘Between Fabio, that’s my chef at the pub,’ Livvy explained, ‘and The Sea Spray, I’m going to be the size of a house.’
‘The sea air doesn’t help. Makes me permanently starving.’
‘Tell me about your community café, Bee. I’ve been impressed by what I’ve seen of Lullbury’s community spirit so far.’
‘It’s a wonderful place to live,’ Bee said warmly.
‘I wouldn’t live anywhere else. As you probably know it’s tough keeping a bookshop going.
I had this space attached to the shop so thought I’d open it up as a community space.
I do very limited food, nothing like The Sea Spray, of course, and offer hot drinks and groups can use it as a meeting place.
Once or twice a week I hold tea and chat sessions where you can come along and meet a few people, and there’s a Death Café–’
‘A what?’ Livvy spluttered her coffee out.
‘It’s where people meet to have guided discussions on death,’ Bee explained gently.
‘Whether it’s your death you’re facing, or you’re grieving for someone, or about to lose someone.
It helps to meet up with other people and the leader offers practical help too.
We have quite an elderly demographic in Lullbury Bay so it’s popular.
’ She smiled. ‘But a lot of people react like you when I first mention it.’
‘I’m dreadfully sorry. It sounds marvellous now you’ve explained it. It just sounds a little–’
‘Brutal?’ Bee supplied. ‘Avril Pengethley, Jago’s mum, runs it.
One thing she tries to do is be honest about the process, the problems and the practicalities.
She calls them The Three Ps. She also runs an advice service in the café but that’s for any kind of problem.
Legal problems with housing, probate, that sort of thing. ’
‘How wonderful. Must be an invaluable service.’
‘It is.’
‘I’d really like to offer something community based.
Something similar to what you’re doing but don’t think either would be quite right and you’ve got them covered anyway.
’ Livvy ruminated, ideas running through her head.
‘Maybe a board games afternoon? You know, Scrabble and Monopoly. With tea and biscuits? Do you think that would work?’
Bee nodded enthusiastically. ‘Excellent idea. I can see that sort of thing going down really well. And a pub is a different environment to a café. You might get more men attending and it’s often men who don’t develop their support networks enough.
Go for it. Get some flyers printed and I’ll put them up in the café. ’
‘Thanks, Bee. I’d like to have a noticeboard in the main corridor of the pub when I get the chance to put one up. I could point people your way then, too.’
‘Think you’re getting the hang of the Lullbury community spirit.’ Bee laughed. ‘Now, let’s get down to the serious business of eating cake!’