Gareth smiled. ‘Luckily it was me then. I did wonder what was going on, but I was in such a rush.’
She waved the glass. ‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked. ‘By the way, was there anything else you wanted?’
‘No drink for me thanks, maybe this evening. If it’s fine with you, I’m going to move the furniture around a bit so if you hear World War Three upstairs, you know what it is.’ He winked.
‘No bother, I hope you like it up there.’
‘The paper is intense but other than that it feels like home already. Well, I’d best be off.’
‘Have a good day and thanks again.’
As Gareth was leaving, Trudy walked in carrying the dresses she had bought. She looked up at Gareth and smiled as they passed. ‘Good afternoon everyone,’ she intoned as she stepped into the pub. ‘He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’ She commented as she put the dresses on an empty table and then pulled off her coat.
Mr. Jones sniggered. ‘Oh, thank you very much. Much obliged.’
Confusion swept across her face. ‘I meant...’
‘I know who you meant, you silly bugger,’ he chuckled again.
Darcy shrugged. ‘I suppose he is.’
‘Give over, you know he is.’
‘Alright, he is, now let’s see what dresses you ended up buying.’ Darcy waited with anticipation as she watched Trudy unzip the bags. If her first choice at the store was anything to go by, she didn’t have much hope for what she was about to reveal.
‘Ta-da!’ Trudy pulled out a red sequined dress that was better suited to a transvestite.
‘Are you having a laugh right now, because if you are it isn’t funny.’ Darcy exclaimed, thinking it wasn’t the sort of dresses they sold at the shop.
A customer burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, but that is just awful. Bloody awful.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ Said Trudy, oblivious to why they were laughing.
Darcy cleared her throat, trying desperately to stop laughing. ‘Trudy, we need to talk about elegance and class,’ said Darcy, now heading to the bar. ‘I’ll get us some wine, go and sit down.’
DARCY DUNKED THE MOP into the bucket of filthy water and took a moment to reflect. Apart from the two regulars and Mr. Jones, who was reading the newspaper at the bar, the pub was quiet. Deciding she needed a break, she sat down at the table next to the window and opened her laptop to pay the few bills that she could afford, albeit reluctant to pay.
‘Everything alright?’ Jess asked joining her at the table.
Darcy leaned back against the seat. ‘I think I have enough to get through another two months and that’s it. I need to bring in business or sell up.’
‘That’s a shame because I really like working here. There’s so much history packed in one place...’
Darcy closed her laptop. ‘That’s it,’ she exclaimed, loud enough to get everyone’s attention.
‘What do you mean, Darcy?’
She couldn’t believe she didn’t think of it before. ‘History. That’s what’s going to make this place alive again.’ She slammed her hand down on the table and took a moment to appreciate the vision she could see playing out in her head.
‘It is?’ Jess asked, confused.
Darcy rose to her feet. ‘Look around you. The answer to my problems has been staring me in the face all this time.’
Jess rose an eyebrow, still not understanding what was going on. ‘It has?’
Darcy sat back down, too excited to know what to do with herself. ‘Finding my grandmother Lily’s postcards have given me an insight into her past that I would never have known about if I hadn’t come here. Look,’ she shifted her chair around to face Jess. ‘When I was given this place I honestly didn’t want anything to do with it, I mean, look around you, it’s like a time capsule and would cost me thousands to even compete with those across the road.’
‘How is this going to save the business though? I’m lost.’
‘Me too,’ said Mr. Jones, listening from his usual seat by the bar.
‘Well, this it. I don’t want to be like them. The Churchill is unique, so why don’t I turn it into a 1940s themed pub.’
There was a moment of stunned silence.
‘Well you’ve got my vote,’ said Mr. Jones. ‘Have you been in the attic yet?’
‘No. Dad said the key was lost many years ago. Why?’
‘Lost? No. If he had spent more time here he’d know. The key has always been kept in the jar on the shelf next to the gin. Because that was Lily’s favourite drink or so I was told.’ He pointed at the brown bottle above the bar.
‘You know an awful lot about this place, Mr. Jones,’ Darcy commented, as she got up from her chair and reached for the jar. ‘So, what’s up there?’
‘When your dad’s mother took over, she put all her mother’s furniture and belongings up in the attic. It’s why that place back there looks like a concoction of three different eras. Your grandmother wasn’t a good decorator.’
‘Really? Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
He laughed. ‘You never asked. I just assumed you knew everything about your family.’
Darcy went over to the bar and reached for the jar. She tipped the jar and a small key fell out into the palm of her hand. ‘Well, I never! I’d better call my father later and tell him all about this.’ As she was about to step down off the chair, Gareth walked in with a bunch of rowdy youngsters that spread out and sat at the tables.
‘I brought a few of my students along.’ He said as he walked up to the bar, smiling in Darcy’s direction. ‘So how has your day been?’ He queried, flipping open his wallet.
Aware her butt was directly in his line of vision, she blushed and got down off the chair. ‘It’s been interesting? Yours?’ She asked, putting the key into the back of her trouser pocket.
‘It’s been good. I fetched these back as we’re going to talk about what we’ve been learning. I mean, what better way to discuss history than over a pitcher of beer.’ He laughed. The students sat around one of the large tables, laughing and joking with each other.
‘Absolutely,’ smiled Darcy, knowing she had made the right choice about keeping the pub. ‘Actually, now you mention history, I want to thank you for returning the cards,’ she began to pour the beer. ‘They were written by my great gran and her lover during World War Two, but you probably know that anyway,’ she laughed.
‘Curiosity got the best of me, I’m afraid,’ he replied. ‘What a find though. Do you know if they ever got married, or...?’
‘No, the poor sod drowned before they could meet on Christmas Eve.’
‘It’s really sad. Maybe you could display the cards in the pub or something as a memorial. It’s a shame to keep them hidden in a drawer.’
She put the pitcher of beer on the bar. ‘Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, actually. Thanks.’
Gareth smiled and handed her a ten-pound note. ‘You’re welcome. And if you’re interested in knowing more about the Blitz, you can come and join us.’ He gestured her to the table.
‘Thanks, I may just do that.’
Chapter Five
Exhausted after a long day, Darcy said goodbye to Jess and Mr. Jones and then retreated to her living quarters. She flounced down on her grandmother’s chair, kicked off her shoes and flicked on the television but she soon found herself falling asleep. It was early morning when she woke, shivering. She grabbed her cardigan draped over the back of the sofa and went to check the radiator under the window. It was freezing. ‘Oh no, please don’t be broke,’ she grumbled and went into her kitchen to put the kettle on to boil. Her mobile rang and she pulled it out of her pocket. ‘Trudy, what’s wrong?’ She asked, concerned as it was only just gone half past six.
‘I got a message from the Golf club last night. They’ve double booked our reception and have to give us the deposit back. Darcy, I’m getting married Christmas Eve and I don’t have time to find anywhere else.’
‘Okay, first thing’s first
– take a breather, will you? We’ll figure this out.’ She put the phone on the counter and switched on the speaker while she finished making her tea.
‘Did I wake you up?’ She asked, sounding wide-awake for such a ghastly hour.
Darcy smiled, pouring milk into her mug and then stirring the coffee. ‘No, I was awake anyway. The stupid radiator isn’t working – probably needs draining or something.’
‘Sorry, I forgot you have your own problems. Hey, wait a minute, I may have a solution for both of us.’
‘What?’ Asked Darcy, intrigued she leaned against the counter and sipped on her coffee. It burned her tongue a little.
‘Why don’t I pay you to host the reception at the pub?’
Darcy spat out her coffee.
‘I appreciate the thought, but isn’t Harvey a millionaire or something? Surely, he wouldn’t want his wedding reception in my pub. I don’t think it’ll be good enough for him and his wealthy guests.’
‘Listen to me. I’ll pay you the entire deposit. It should cover a few repairs and the cost of food and entertainment. Harvey will have to accept my decision as after all, he said to do what makes me happy and I’m happy.’
‘Wow, so you really do mean this?’
‘Yes, it’s a perfect solution, don’t you agree? I’ll meet you later on this afternoon to discuss everything, okay. I’ve got to go now the cat wants its breakfast.’
Before she opened the pub for the day, Darcy needed to head out to the supermarket for some essentials. She had just closed the door when she saw Gareth walking up the side street. At that moment Darcy couldn’t deny that he was handsome and stood on the curb with her breath caught in her throat.
‘Morning,’ he said, smiling as puffs of smoke escaped his lips. His hands were dug into his coat pockets and his backpack was slung over his shoulder. ‘Cold, isn’t it?’ He said, stopping to talk.
‘Very. Are you off to work?’
‘I am.’ He gestured her to walk with him. ‘Going far?’
‘I’m only going to the shop for a few things. Oh, before I forget to ask, is your heating working?’
‘Yeah, it’s fine. Good of you to ask, not all landlords are that thoughtful,’ he laughed. ‘Why is there a problem?’
‘No, no problem, just checking, you know. Being a good landlady.’ She smiled tightly and cleared her throat. ‘I meant to ask, what particular period of history do you teach?’
‘Most, but I specialise in Both the World Wars. I think it’s funny in a way...’
Darcy knew where he was going with this. ‘How so?’
‘I was thinking about the postcards you found. Have you thought about researching the couple and the pub’s history? I’m only asking because if you want to know more, I’d like to lend a helping hand. And some skills.’
‘Would you? That’s nice of you, thank you. I have thought about it and I think I’d like to know more. I also have plans to turn the pub into a 1940’s themed bar. Do you like the sound of that? Or do you think it’s a stupid idea?’ She had been thinking about whether or not it would work. It was a big risk, but she couldn’t do any worse than she was already doing.
‘No, it’s not stupid at all. I think it’s a great idea. For a start, it’s different and not something that’s been done before to my knowledge. You have something good going here.’ He became distracted by the traffic on the road. ‘I need to catch this bus, Darcy. Maybe we can talk later?’ he asked, walking backwards.
‘Of course. Pop down the bar when you have time.’ She waved him off as he stepped onto the bus.
‘I may use the secret entrance,’ he winked and gave her a wave.
MR. JONES WAS WAITING outside the pub with another old man chatting away when she arrived back with a few carriers of shopping.
‘Do I see a happier, Darcy today?’ He enquired, a small smile tugging at the sides of his mouth.
As she put the key in the lock, she smiled. ‘You do, Mr. Jones; that you do. I’ll tell you all about in a while. Let me put the shopping away first.’
When she walked past the bar, she saw the pile of postcards next to the pump. ‘Oh jeez, I didn’t put them away last night.’ She and picked them up and thought for a moment. She didn’t have them in the pub last night with her. Thinking back, she was sure she put them in the living room. ‘Strange,’ she whispered.
‘What’s that?’ Asked Mr. Jones.
‘These postcards. I was just talking to Gareth about them and here they are, like magic.’
‘Gareth, eh? That’s the lad upstairs, isn’t it?’
She put the postcards in her handbag under the bar for safe keeping. ‘Yeah, that’s him. Nice guy.’ She poured a drink for Mr. Jones.
‘Oh aye. So, he’s nice. Anything else?’
She passed him the drink, noticing an anchor tattooed on his finger. She had never noticed it until now, it was grey and faded but still visible. ‘Don’t be so cheeky now,’ she found him amusing. ‘What’s that you’ve got tattooed there?’
Before he could answer Jess walked into the pub. ‘Good morning, everyone,’ she sang in a sing-song voice.
‘You seem perky today?’ Commented Darcy.
‘I am. Last night you gave me the perfect idea for my end of term fashion project – I’m creating a 1940’s themed collection for the modern woman and man. Isn’t that exciting?’
‘That’s fantastic. Why don’t you have the show held here?’ She suggested, thinking how Trudy wanted the wedding here.
‘Really? I’d love that, Darcy, thanks.’
‘Well, I have good news. Thanks to Trudy’s posh golf club cancelling on her, she’s asked me to hold her wedding reception here. But that’s not all. She is helping me out with repairs, so I have a lot of work to do and things to organise to get this place back to its former glory.’
Mr. Jones clapped. ‘See, things always work out. Well done, love.’
‘But I will need help,’ she looked at them both with pleading eyes.
‘We’ll help,’ they both replied in unison.
With renewed enthusiasm for the place, Darcy thought about giving the windows a wash and went to the kitchen to fill a bucket of water.
‘Jess, do you think you can look after the bar for a little while?’ She asked, struggling to carry the heavy bucket across the pub floor to the door, the soapy water splashed about, nearing the edge of the bucket threatening to spill. ‘It’s not like it’s heaving with customers, I know.’
‘Of course. Are sure you don’t want me to do that?’ Jess called out.
‘No, it’s quite alright,’ she said and stepped on the chair she had already brought out. She took the sponge and wiped years’ worth of grime off the glass. In gold letterings, The Churchill was spelled out across the glass and Darcy wondered why her gran had called it that. She figured she had a lot more to find out about her family and the pub’s connection.
‘You should get someone to do that for you,’ said Trudy, giving her a fright. She held on to the window ledge and gave Trudy a glare.
‘Why? It’ll be more expensive. It’s cheaper if I do it myself.’
‘Well give yourself and break and come inside so we can talk.’
Darcy threw the sopping wet sponge into the bucket and got down from the chair and as she did so, a young couple walking by stopped to look inside the door.
‘We’re open if you want to come in.’ Darcy said.
‘Are you?’ Replied the man. ‘I never remember this place being open.’ He turned to his partner. ‘Fancy a drink?’
His partner nodded and they entered.
‘Maybe I should stand out here washing windows every day to get business, huh?’ She said to Trudy.
‘Or employ Mr. Jones. He’s here often enough.’ She laughed.
Darcy emptied the bucket on the roadside into a drain, and walked back into the pub, asking Jess to fetch them over a glass of wine each. She sat down opposite Trudy, who removed her scarf and gloves, setting them aside from her
chunky notebook.
Darcy gulped. ‘They are all your notes for the wedding?’ She asked, already daunted by the task she has yet given her.
‘Just a few things.’ She concentrated on flipping through the book. ‘Ah. Here we go.’ She ripped out the page and handed it to Darcy. ‘I managed to cut over a hundred people off the guest list, simply because I’m not people pleasing. So, we should just about fit everyone in here. I’ve arranged the flowers and decorations to be delivered a few days before...’
‘Okay, so you want me to prepare the finger food?’ She looked up expectantly, hoping she didn’t want a four-course meal.
‘Yes, simple finger food. Nothing too daunting, I promise. And here’s the money.’ She handed her over a check.
‘Four thousand? Where do you want me to get the food from? Harrods?’
Trudy laughed. ‘No, but as long as it’s good stuff, I don’t mind where you go. I want you to use some of that to replace the window and get the signage fixed. I really do think it needs that extra “L”, don’t you?’
Stunned, Darcy opened and closed her mouth for a second like a fish in water.
‘I can’t believe you’d do this for me? Are you honestly sure Harvey doesn’t mind? I don’t want to be responsible for the reason he’d divorce you after the reception.’
‘Honestly, it’s all fine and dandy. Harvey wasn’t always rich, mind you. You do know he’s an East End boy at heart?’
‘Is he really? Well, I be damned. I don’t know how to thank you for this. You may have just saved my grandma’s Lily’s pub.’
‘Your pub now, don’t forget. Three generations of the Tanner women, that has to be something to celebrate right?’ She raised her glass before taking a sip.
‘And that reminds me. I found some old postcards of my great Nan’s during the war. So, I was thinking of turning this into a 1940’s themed bar. What do you say?’
‘I say it’s fantastic. I wouldn’t mind having a 1940’s themed wedding, too.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah, let’s go for it.’
Christmas Eve at Piccadilly Circus Page 3
