Along with my shifts at the pub, it meant that my days, and evenings, were as busy as they’d ever been. Not that it felt like proper work at all. Although I was shattered and collapsed into bed each night, falling asleep just as soon as my head hit the pillow, it was a contented, satisfied slumber that greeted me. I didn’t come away at the end of the day feeling so overwhelmed with fatigue that I could weep, spending the rest of the night tossing and turning, unable to switch off, before having to get up early and go through the motions the next day. My shoulders didn’t groan with tension and my eyes were no longer sore and tired after having stared at a computer screen for eight hours. All the fresh air I was getting meant the pounding headaches which were a permanent feature of my working week in London had all but disappeared. As an added bonus I’d lost half a stone in weight. Hardly surprising really considering all the walking I’d been doing.
Today, I had one more doggy assignment, for my client Mrs Elmore who was recovering from a hip replacement operation. Her little border terrier Rosie was an absolute sweetheart, who at almost twelve years old walked even slower than Mrs Elmore, and who stopped at every leaf and every sweet-smelling delight on our route. Still, it made for a very leisurely and relaxing walk around the block - there was no fear of any repeats of Milo’s swimming lesson with Rosie - and a pleasant end to the day job. Afterwards I rushed home for a quick sandwich and a cup of tea, before heading to the pub for the evening shift, a stint pulling pints for the locals.
On the High Street nestled between Josh Reynold’s Antiques on one side, a quirky shop selling old collectibles and more modern objet d’arts, and Polly’s Flowers on the other, was the unassuming eighteenth-century building that housed The Dog and Duck. Nothing much to look at from the outside, but as soon as you stepped inside you couldn’t help but be charmed by the sprawling appealing rooms. Low black beams, an open fire, a bread oven tucked behind the stairs that led to the living quarters, and lots of little nooks and crannies filled with old books and comfy cushions made for an inviting welcome. Walking into the pub always incited a feeling of coming home for me, but then I had spent far too much time in there, propping up the bar, in my formative years.
‘I meant to ask you, Ells,’ said Josie, taking advantage of the early evening lull and parking her bottom on a stool, ‘could you possibly take on any more shifts?’ Josie was Eric, the landlord’s daughter, and my best friend since… well, it seemed liked forever now.
‘When were you thinking?’
‘Lunchtimes, evenings. Whatever you can do really. To be honest, I’m ready to stop now. By the end of a shift my legs are killing me and my back…’ She winced as she rubbed at her side. ‘Besides, I don’t think I’m going to be able to fit behind here much longer.’ Laughing, she looked down at her bump, which was straining beneath the material of her blouse. She still had six weeks to go until B-day, but now she came to mention it, navigating around her wide berth in the small confines of the bar was becoming tricky. ‘Dad’s advertising for extra staff at the moment, but I thought, in the meantime, if you wanted some more hours?’
‘Sure. I’m happy to fit in as many shifts as I can, around my dog-walking clients, of course.’
Josie lifted her eyebrows, twisting her mouth in an indulgent smile. She was just one of many people who couldn’t quite believe how my life had changed in the space of a few months. Gone were the power suits, high heels and polished nails, replaced by jeans and sweatshirts, wellies and the whiff of the great outdoors. I really rather liked the new me.
‘Brilliant. You’re a lifesaver,’ she said.
‘It’s going to be weird not having you behind the bar though. Who will I have my girly chats with?’
Josie was my oldest friend. Our mums met at The Daisy Chain Mothers and Toddlers group in the village hall, over twenty-four years ago now, and had quickly become best friends, a friendship that had remained strong until Miriam, Josie’s mum, died unexpectedly after a short illness when Josie was still a teenager. Like our mums, we’d been besties from day one. Going to school together, sharing birthday celebrations, holidays and everything in between. We’d chosen different paths; Josie seeking out the security of marriage and now motherhood, me opting for a career, but our friendship was as solid as ever. When Josie had found out I was coming home she’d quickly arranged with her dad for me to take up some shifts at the pub which had given us the opportunity to spend most evenings together gossiping behind the bar in the guise of working.
‘Mind you, I should take off as much time as you can,’ I told her now. ‘You won’t get much rest when the baby arrives and, knowing your dad, he’ll have you back here before the little one’s first tooth has arrived.’
‘Well to be honest, that’s what I was banking on, we’ll certainly need the money, but I’m not sure it will happen now.’
‘Really?’ I pulled up a stool and sat down next to her. Our only customers, Bill and Tony, a couple of our lovely regulars, were supping on their pints in the snug, putting the world to rights, so Josie and I wouldn’t need to be pulling any pints anytime soon. ‘Why not?’
‘Dad’s tenancy is due to run out and he’s not sure it’ll be renewed. Apparently the owners are selling up, so we don’t know yet what will happen with this place, who might buy it, what they intend to do with it. Dad’s thinking it might be time for him to move on.’
‘No! Surely not. Your dad is the heart and soul of this place. It just wouldn’t be the same without him. Surely the new owners would want to keep him on?’
‘Depends on who takes it over. If it’s a chain, they’ll probably want to implement some changes and bring their own people in. Turn it into a gastro pub, maybe? Or worse still put in a couple of sports TVs and a pool table.’
‘Ugh, I hope not.’
We both shuddered trying to imagine what that might be like. The best thing about The Dog and Duck was that it managed to retain its sense of olde-worlde charm. It was a pub in the true sense of the word, a quiet sanctuary away from the pressing demands of the outside world. There were no blaring TVs or loud music, no flashing lights from arcade machines. Eric, Josie’s dad, had strived to make the pub a community environment, welcoming to not only the real ale fans, young couples and families who frequented the place, but also to local groups, such as the book club, the conversational Italian class and the group of young men who sat huddled around one of the tables exchanging magic cards. Everyone was welcome as long as they showed respect to their fellow customers and the staff, and if they didn’t, Eric was always on hand to discreetly but firmly move them on their way.
‘Don’t say anything to anyone, will you?’ said Josie, looking concerned now. ‘I think Dad wants to keep it under wraps until he knows more about what’s happening.’
‘Of course,’ I said, reeling at the news that the pub might change hands after all this time. I couldn’t get it out of my head and was still thinking about it later that night long after Josie had gone home. From a purely selfish point of view I couldn’t imagine the pub being any other way than the way it was now, in my heart and mind, with everything and everybody that was familiar around me. Working for anyone other than Eric was inconceivable too. Our families had always been so close and we’d shared so many happy and special occasions here – summer parties, charity auctions, Christmas celebrations – it was heart-breaking to think there’d be no more of those events in our future.
‘Hello sweetheart.’
I looked up from where I’d been lost in my thoughts, returning clean glasses to the shelf below the bar. There was only one person who called me sweetheart: Johnny Tay. I smiled, ignoring the flutter of unease in my chest and plastered on my best barmaid’s warm welcome.
‘Hi Johnny. What can I get you? A pint of the usual?’
‘No, I’m not stopping. I just wanted to pop in to say hello.’ He stood on tiptoe and leant over the bar taking my face in his hands and depositing a big kiss on my lips. He smelt delicious, of wood chippings, fresh
air and grass. ‘I’m going down to The Bell to watch the match, but I’ll drop in on the way back, walk you home. We could drop off at mine for a nightcap?’
‘Oh don’t worry about that. I was thinking I’d have an early night anyway.’
‘No really, I’d like to. I’ll be walking back this way, so it’s no problem.’ He grinned at me, his bright blue eyes twinkling fondly.
‘Okay, I’ll see you later then.’
That was the trouble with Johnny. He was just too damn likeable for his own good. Friendly and charming was his default mode. I liked him – no, scrap that, I adored Johnny. We’d become really close friends in sixth form, spending far too much time together in the common room at school, sharing our woes about revision, talking about our plans for the summer when exams were over, lazing in the park, spending hours nursing our beers in the garden of The Dog and Duck, confiding in each other, growing closer with each passing day. It was inevitable that our relationship would grow into something more serious. A teenage romance that had soared that glorious summer and fizzled out just as quickly when I’d gone off to university in the autumn.
Whatever had possessed me to think it was a good idea to pick up where we’d left off all those years before?
Ugh.
That first weekend when I came home from London I hadn’t thought twice about falling into Johnny’s arms again – it was all too easy. I revelled in the reminder of his warm voice and the familiarity of his lovely face as we reacquainted ourselves with what had been happening over the last couple of years, catching up on the news about the old crowd from school. Our lives had gone in different directions. Me, studying hard, gaining a qualification that would always guarantee me a decent job, I hoped, and Johnny taking up an apprenticeship with a local joinery company, his innate skills and creativity soon enabling him to set up his own bespoke kitchen company. No surprise there, because as I was rediscovering, if there was one thing you could say about Johnny, it was that he was very good with his hands…
I could see now though that Johnny and I were very different people and we worked much better as friends. The trouble was Johnny hadn’t realized it, but he’d taken to calling me sweetheart, turning up at the pub whenever I was working a shift and talking about a future; admittedly only two or three weeks down the line, but it still managed to scare the heebie-jeebies out of me.
Despite what my head was telling me – that I needed to put a stop to what was only ever meant to be a fling – I realized I was getting myself in much deeper than I’d ever intended and the alarm bells were ringing.
Coming home was meant to give me some clarity, to offer me the opportunity to live a simpler, less stressful life, but with each passing day spent in Little Leyton it looked as though life was getting more complicated by the moment.
Note to self: I definitely needed to do something about the problem called Johnny.
Three
‘There you go my lovely. These are for you, Ellie.’
It was the start of my shift the next day and Polly Samson from the flower shop next door was standing in front of me holding a bunch of assorted beautiful blooms.
‘Wow! They’re stunning. Thank you.’
‘No problem. I hate to see any flowers go to waste and I know you’ll find a good use for them.’
I took them from her, found a vase and placed them in the fireplace, standing back for a moment to admire them.
‘Perfect! I was going to take them home with me, but I think they’ve found their rightful place there, don’t you?’
I loved the quiet of the early evenings in the pub when I had the opportunity to potter and chat properly with any customers who popped in. Often, later in the evening, I was too busy to even draw breath so I always made the most of the quiet times when I could.
I plopped some ice into a glass, poured in some orange juice and handed the drink to Polly. Immediately she took a long sip, her eyes brightening as the refreshment hit the desired spot.
‘So no regrets then?’ she asked. ‘About coming back here? I should imagine life in Little Leyton must seem tame after living in London for so long.’
Polly was a friend who I’d known since my schooldays. We hadn’t been close back then; she’d been in the year above me and we’d mixed in different circles, but recently, with her working next door, we’d got to know each other better and had grown much closer as a result.
‘It’s different, I’ll give you that, but this is very definitely my home. Where I belong. I love the sense of community here. You don’t really get that in London. Or else I didn’t find it. My life seemed to consist of early starts, long days and late nights. It’s only now that I’m away from it that I realize how burnt-out I was. I’d gone straight from university into my job, doing my accountancy exams at the same time, and it was really pressurized. Losing my job like that, so suddenly, was devastating, but in some ways I see it as a blessing now. It’s given me the chance to step back from it all and decide what I want to do next.’
Polly nodded, taking another sip from her drink. She wriggled her shoulders and exhaled deeply, the tensions of her day seeping from her body. ‘Well I hope you’re here to stay now, Ellie? I do love having you around. You’ve brightened up this place that’s for sure.’
Such a lovely thing for Polly to say. She was tiny in stature, but had a huge heart. With her blonde hair cut into a swingy bob and bright blue eyes that shone keenly as she spoke, my mood always lifted just at the sight of her. With her being only next door, I often popped into her shop before or after a shift to have a natter and a cup of coffee. I’d perch my bottom on one of the stools behind her counter and watch transfixed as her fingers tended her flowers, creating pretty bouquets and baskets with expert ease.
‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be around,’ I told her now. ‘I love working here and doing the dog-sitting, but I don’t see either of them as long-term careers. I’ll probably have to go back into accountancy at some stage, it would be a waste of my degree otherwise.’
Which was absolutely true, so why, as I said the words aloud to Polly, did I wonder, not for the first time, if I really wanted to pick up that lifestyle again. Thinking about it, I’d been feeling the strain for months and a stirring of disquiet rumbled in the depths of my stomach as I wondered if the career I had chosen, the one I’d worked so long and hard for, was really meant for me after all.
‘So you didn’t leave anybody behind in London then?’ Polly shifted her bottom on the stool – they weren’t the most comfortable seats in the world – and the corners of her mouth twisted in an enquiring smile.
I tilted my head, deliberately misunderstanding the question.
‘I wondered if it might have been a man that brought you back here. If you weren’t trying to escape a broken heart?’
‘Ha! No,’ I sighed. ‘Four years in London and I don’t think I could have had more than a couple of dates.’
‘Really?’ Polly’s mouth gaped open. ‘And I thought my love life was in the doldrums.’
‘Yeah.’ I gave a small chuckle, unable to take offence at her reaction. How could I when it was the sad truth? ‘To be honest, for a long time I wasn’t really interested in relationships. I was too focussed on my job and then when I was ready to meet someone it never seemed to happen. Maybe if I had done I wouldn’t have come home again.’ A pang of sadness swept over me as I was made to consider all those missed opportunities.
‘Still, it looks like things are going well with Johnny now. That has to be a good thing, eh? Do you know, I sometimes think these things happen for a reason. That maybe you were meant to come home, to be here at the pub and to be with Johnny.’
‘What? No!’ I said quickly, hearing the defensive edge to my voice. I jumped up from my stool and cleared away some empty glasses from the top. ‘We’re not really together, together. Johnny and I are just friends. Nothing more.’
Polly raised her eyebrows at me, her eyes widening in disbelief.
‘Real
ly!’ I said, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks as I tried to convince us both.
‘Hmm, okay. But I’m not sure Johnny sees it that way.’
‘Well he should!’ I let out a big sigh. If other people were seeing us a couple then my problem was much bigger than I thought.
‘What about you?’ I asked, eager now to deflect the attention from me. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’
‘No.’ Polly’s shoulders sagged. ‘The one thing you can say about Little Leyton is that there is a distinct lack of eligible young men. I’d love to meet someone, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that around here.’
‘No.’ I sighed in sympathy, looking around us. Bill and Tony, lovely men in their sixties, were supping on their pints in the snug, a group of building contractors had just come in after a long day’s work and were discussing last night’s football match, and Arthur who had to be pushing eighty was reading his book, sat in the bay window. Hmmm. If the Dog and Duck was anything to go by, then she had a point. ‘Don’t you meet any nice men through your work?’
‘Oh yes, plenty, but they’re all either happily married or trying to woo a potential partner. I work in a florist’s, remember. It’s not the best place to meet single available men.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘One of these days I might try internet dating – I never really liked the idea of it before, but it might be worth a try or else…’
‘…a nunnery,’ I interrupted her, with a wry smile before turning to greet a customer who’d just walked in through the side door. His head was bent to the floor to avoid the low beams before he rested his hands on the bar and lifted his gaze to greet me.
‘Good evening, Sir. What can…’ I paused as our eyes met, realization dawning in my mind. ‘Oh hello…’ Be still my beating heart. ‘What can I get you?’
Christmas at the Dog & Duck Page 2
