Chapter 34
Tequila – distilled from the blue agave plant. Strong, earthy flavour. High alcohol content
L ivvy was only too aware of Mark sleeping a few doors away and it gave her a restless night. She got up early to see him out. ‘Thanks for staying over,’ she said, as he unlocked the kitchen door. ‘Are you sure I can’t make you breakfast?’
‘No, best be off. Get on the phone to find someone to sort the car.’
Both studiously avoided looking at the wrecked vehicles.
‘I hope Nats was okay on her own.’
‘Bingeing on a Downton Abbey box set was the last message. And drinking her way through my wine stocks. She’ll be fine.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And won’t be in the land of the living yet. It’ll give me time to get ringing round.’
‘Walk safely.’ Livvy peered at the sullen grey sky. ‘They might be right about The Beast from the East Mark II. And the frost hasn’t lifted. Don’t slip and break a leg to add to the bill I owe you.’
‘You don’t owe me anything, Livvy.’
‘I’ll say Happy Christmas then. If you do get to York, I won’t see you until afterwards.’ Livvy tried to keep the desolation from her voice. She was trying hard to be the independent woman but, at the moment, all she really wanted was for him to be around.
Mark hovered on the kitchen doorstep. ‘I suppose. Can’t believe you’re still going ahead with the Christmas Eve party.’
She shrugged. ‘Everyone’s expecting one and besides, I don’t want to let the events of last night defeat me. I’ll be damned if he scares me off.’
‘Attagirl.’
They stood awkwardly facing one another.
‘I suppose I’d better get off then,’ Mark said, not moving.
‘I suppose you better had. Give my love to Nats and wish her Happy Christmas.’
‘Will do.’ He reached forward, smelling of her toothpaste. It made the gesture feel intimate and familiar, as if they were an established married couple. Kissing her cheek, he whispered, ‘Happy Christmas, Livvy. Keep safe.’
She watched him walk gingerly away over the icy surface of the car park until he reached the carriage arch and then turn uphill and disappear.
For a second, she was alone. It was horrible.
She felt naked and vulnerable, and as if someone was watching.
At her whistle, Angel came bounding in from the beer garden just as a black Range Rover turned in off the main road.
‘Bernie’ Winters was an old family friend, trusted and reliable.
Her father, just before he’d left on holiday, had ignored Livvy’s plea that she could ring and had called him himself.
Today was the only time Bernie could conduct a stock take.
He got out of his car, looked curiously at the van and at Mark’s Mercedes and inched warily over to her.
A solid man with sandy- coloured hair and on the verge of retiring, he was exactly the fatherly sort she wanted about her today.
‘Looks like you’ve had a wee spot of bother,’ he said, in his soft Edinburgh accent.
‘Hi, Bernie. I’ll explain later. Get yourself in. It’s icy out here. What are the roads like?’
‘Och. Not too bad for the moment.’
‘Thanks for coming.’
‘Not a bother. I told your dad I’d do what I could to help.’
Livvy bit her lip. First Mark, now Bernie. She was calling in so many favours, it was making a mockery of her going it alone.
Bernie bent to pet an ecstatic spaniel. ‘Now, who’s this wee girlie?’
‘This is Angel. Let Bernie in, will you,’ she said to the dog, grabbing her collar. ‘We haven’t all got a fur coat.’ Livvy bustled them all into the kitchen. ‘Bacon sandwich and a mug of tea do you?’ The springer barked in approval.
‘Grand. Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll crack on. Weather forecast’s looking lively and I’ll want to get home.’
The teapot was doing overtime. She made Bernie breakfast and pointed him in the direction of the bar.
PC Khan arrived thirty minutes later. He simply repeated what had been said the night before but, having drunk his tea, promised to have a good look around the car park before he left.
‘And, in the new year, I seriously recommend getting CCTV fitted,’ was his parting shot.
When Fabio and Stewie arrived, Livvy left them in the kitchen prepping for the day’s lunch service.
Going through to the bar she switched on all the Christmas lights and busied herself carting a load of logs in and stoking up the fire.
Keeping active was a way of stopping herself thinking.
And, although it was good to have people around her again, she needed light and warmth too.
The post took another half hour to sift through.
The first bills were in and made her heart sink.
She sat for a moment, breathing in and out, calming herself, trying to instil some confidence.
Taking another deep breath, she coughed.
The logs were damp and the wood burner was all smoke and no flames. It didn’t seem a good omen.
Two hours later Bernie perched on a bar stool and picked up the turkey and stuffing roll Stewie had made for him.
‘Livvy,’ he said heavily, ‘from what I can see – and I’ve been through all your itemised till readings, all your dispensed spirits and your real ale barrels – accounting for wastage, you’ve got three bottles of vodka, one of gin and two bottles of tequila unaccounted for.
You always note down any drinks for your own use, don’t you, and those given out on the house? ’
Livvy nodded, feeling slightly sick. She put down her own sandwich, her appetite gone.
‘Seeing as it’s you, I’ll go through everything one more time but it looks very much as if one reason for your lack of profit is–’
‘Someone’s pilfering.’
‘Och, it’s not uncommon, Liv. Your father’s had it happen more than once in his hotel bars. It’s rife in the hospitality industry.’
‘I just hoped it wouldn’t happen in my part of it.’
‘Obviously, talk to your accountant about any other issues. It’s been a nightmare of a time for pubs.
It’s nigh on impossible to predict any profit margins, what with the unpredictability of the last five years.
Look at what you’re charging, lassie, what you can cut down on.
’ He took a swig of coffee. ‘But remember, you need to look at it long term. My advice, if you want it, is to increase your food covers. That’s where the profitability will lie. ’
‘Thanks, Bernie,’ Livvy said slowly. ‘Lots to think about.’
‘First thing you need to do is sort who’s taking the unaccounted-for spirits. You got anyone working for you with a wee drink problem? It’s also common in our world.’
‘I’ll have to have a think about it.’
‘Then you’ll have to catch them at it to prove it. Not easy.’ He picked up his sandwich and continued eating.
‘I’ll leave you to your lunch. Thanks, Bernie, I appreciate it. And huge thanks for coming out on Christmas Eve. Happy Christmas and give my love to Moira and the kids. Safe drive back.’
She took her own coffee to Pete’s favourite chair and table in front of the wood burner.
She couldn’t seem to get warm and hugged the mug to her chest, her mood low.
No one said running a pub would be easy and she should have anticipated problems of this kind.
As Bernie said, it was a common occurrence in the pub trade, but she’d thought her little team was bomb-proof.
Letting a sigh escape, she wondered what else could go wrong.
She watched, through the many-paned window, as traffic inched down the narrow hill into town.
It was a bottleneck outside The George and when two busses met it caused chaos.
It would be fun when the tourist season began.
The roads were slick with wet and no longer icy, but drivers were obviously erring on the cautious side.
Is any of this worth all the stress? I could be out, like everyone else, doing last-minute Christmas shopping.
Not only had she a malicious vandal to contend with, but she also had someone working for her who was stealing.
Screwing her eyes shut, she forced herself to think calmly and rationally.
She wasn’t the first landlady to face this problem, she wouldn’t be the last. She had to deal with it logically, remove the emotion.
Sipping her coffee, she thought through each member of the team one by one. Despite her attempt to be professional, it hurt her personally to think one of them was pilfering and in such quantities.
Candice the cleaner was an unlikely suspect; she didn’t work when the pub was open, plus Livvy was usually around when she was in cleaning.
She supposed the woman could have helped herself to a sneaky spirit but was hard-pressed to fit all the cleaning in as it was.
And in those quantities? Surely Livvy would have noticed the optics getting low before opening times.
Brittany was a health nut, lapsing with the occasional burger and didn’t touch spirits. The most she ever drank was the odd glass of white wine, or champagne.
Young Karl she’d trust with her life, besides he was a beer man through and through and loved his real ale. It couldn’t be him; if it was, she’d be horrified.
It was unlikely to be Stewie as he rarely ventured out of the kitchen, Fabio kept him too busy.
Could it be Fabio? He wouldn’t be the first chef to have a drinking problem.
But surely, as he had to drive all the way back to Honiton after each shift, he wouldn’t risk drink-driving?
With his mother being sick he’d need his driving licence for any emergency.
Livvy drained her mug. That is, of course, if what he’d told her was the truth.
No! She prided herself on being a good judge of character; she couldn’t believe it was Fabio; he invested so much of himself into making The George a success.
Surely, he wouldn’t jeopardise that? And hadn’t Jason mentioned Fabio’s ill mother?