Chapter 52
‘Her heart did whisper that he’d done it for her.’
The late summer air was warm and heavy with pollen, drifting in through the wide-open door of The Black Horse.
It had been a long, relentless few weeks, but suddenly, I could see the finish line.
This place was no longer just a collection of walls, beams and wiring, but a living, breathing space.
The snug, once a dark, damp corner, now glowed with golden oak panelling and deep navy walls.
The scent of fresh wood oil lingered in the air, mixing with the faint heat of a day that had barely cooled.
I stood on a bar stool, squinting as Dylan, balanced on a ladder, tried to hang a framed vintage racing print without falling and breaking his neck.
‘Left,’ Alice called from below. ‘No, your other left. Honestly, Dylan, have you been drinking?’
‘Only tea,’ Dylan muttered, shifting the frame again. ‘But if someone doesn’t tell me this is straight, I’m going to resign and have a cold beer.’
I tilted my head. ‘It’s straight enough. If anyone complains, I’ll tell them it’s meant to look off-kilter.’
From the doorway, Tania surveyed the chaos with the polished confidence of someone who could style a photo shoot in her sleep.
She had arrived from London an hour earlier with a car boot full of soft furnishings and decorative bits – pewter candlesticks, brass lanterns, and a pair of velvet cushions so beautiful I immediately worried about spilled beer ruining them.
‘This mirror,’ Tania said, holding up a gilt-framed piece she’d salvaged from a Notting Hill market, ‘is going above the mantel. Trust me, it’s going to make the room look twice the size. And with the candlelight? It’ll feel like magic.’
I eyed it warily. ‘We’re not turning this into a city club clone.’
Tania smiled. ‘It can be a pub and have taste. You’ve done all the hard graft, Flo. Let me add a few small touches.’
Alice snorted from where she was crouched on the floor untangling a string of festoon lights we’d bought for the courtyard. ‘When you say touches, you mean your personal brand of London sparkle. The kind that costs three figures per scatter cushion.’
Tania raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Guilty. But you’ll thank me when people start taking photos and talking about the place. It’s marketing.’
I half-laughed, half-groaned.
Dom chose that exact moment to wander in, eating crisps with the self-satisfied energy of someone who hadn’t lifted a single box. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said.
‘Got what?’ I asked.
‘The launch,’ he said, loudly. ‘We need a proper opening night. Something big. A bit of theatre. Publicity. Hook the locals, flatter the investors, give the punters something to gossip about in the Co-op car park.’
Alice raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh God, what have you got in mind?’
‘Listen,’ he continued, undeterred. ‘I was in the car last night, ferrying Megan to singalong club, and I remembered that conversation you and Alice had years ago, something about Darcy and breeches…’
‘You mean The Darcy List,’ I said.
‘Exactly! And it hit me. Pride and Prejudice. People love it. We lean into your Darcy List, give the launch a Regency theme. Look…’
He shoved his phone at me. On the screen:
Elliot Pubs cordially invite you to
The Grand Opening of The Black Horse at Foxdown
September 28th at 6pm
Dress: Pride and Prejudice Attire – Horses Welcome
‘You have got to be kidding,’ I said.
‘Deadly serious. Regency dress, candelabras, a string quartet. The whole shebang.’
Alice laughed, shaking her head. ‘Half the village will be too terrified to show up.’
‘And the other half will think it’s the social event of the decade,’ Dom said. ‘Trust me. Local press will eat this up. We’ve got your brand – book club, Darcy List, all that Jane Austen nonsense – and now we’ve got a pub to match. C’mon surely Darcy rode a black horse.’
‘I don’t own anything remotely Regency,’ I muttered.
‘I know a fabulous costume hire in the East End,’ said Tania.
‘And who will you go as?’ I said.
‘Lady Catherine, obviously. I like a title.’
By late afternoon, Dom had left to collect a takeaway for us. Dylan and Alice had headed home. The pub was beginning to look less like a construction site and more like the kind of place you’d sink into with a glass of wine and never want to leave.
Tania stood on a chair, polishing the mirror until the gilt frame glowed. ‘This place feels alive,’ she said. ‘It’s a testament to what you’ve built, Flo.’
I smiled faintly. ‘Not without Dom’s miracle money.’
There was a pause. A flicker of something in Tania’s expression. ‘Ah. Yes. The… miracle.’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
She tried to look busy, polishing the already polished surface, but her voice had tightened. ‘Just that, well, Dom has a knack for pulling money from thin air. It’s his superpower.’
‘Tania. Where did it come from?’ I asked, my tone sharper than I’d intended.
Tania froze for half a beat, her hand stilling on the frame. ‘Flo…’ she began carefully, ‘you really don’t want to know.’
‘Yes, I do.’ I stepped closer, crossing my arms. ‘Where did the money come from?’
She sighed, lowering her voice as if the empty bar might be listening. ‘Fine. But you didn’t hear this from me. It was Lachlan.’
I blinked. ‘Lachlan?’
‘Yes,’ she said, brushing imaginary dust off the mantel. ‘He wired the money from Dubai. He told Dom he wanted it done anonymously, so for the love of God don’t tell him I let it slip. Dom will be furious.’
I stared at her, the words settling like heavy rocks. ‘Why would he?’
‘Because he believes in this,’ she said firmly. ‘And probably in you.’
I turned away, staring out of the window, trying to process what she’d just said.
Lachlan. The man who questioned every decision I made, who treated the pub like a puzzle to be solved, who barely smiled – he’d…
saved us? The thought lodged in my chest like a splinter.
I didn’t know whether to feel grateful, humiliated, or furious that I’d needed saving at all.
Tania, sensing my silence, softened her tone. ‘Look, don’t overthink it. He sees this pub as something worth protecting because it’s got character, because it’ll stand the test of time. It’s a great investment. That’s all.’
I shook my head, still reeling. ‘That’s not all. He didn’t just patch a hole; he wrote a cheque for fifty thousand pounds. That’s… personal.’
She shrugged. ‘Then maybe it’s personal. But if you tell him I told you, I’ll deny it, and Dom will never forgive me.’
I let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sound of disbelief.
‘Look, he sees something in you. Something the rest of us see too. You’ve bloody built something out of nothing here Flo.’
I didn’t answer. I just stood there, staring at the walls. Lachlan’s hand was in every detail.
When Dom and Tania finally left, and it was just me and Rocky, I sat alone in the bar. The mirror reflected the glow of the pendant lamps, the candlesticks caught little sparks of light, and the oak bar gleamed like it was ready for its first pint.
I thought about Lachlan, still in Dubai. His short, neat emails. His maddening perfectionism. And now this. Quietly wiring the money that saved the project. Saved me, maybe.
I opened my phone and typed:
The snug’s almost done. You’d approve.
And then I deleted it before hitting send.