The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

by Caroline Roberts

  ‘But my sign. Look, it’s bloody well ruined now. I haven’t got time to write it all out again. It was a work of art that, took me ages.’ He sounded well and truly miffed.

  The sign did indeed have lovely swirly writing on – well, about half of it that was left readable now – with hand-drawn pictures of strawberries, limes and mint leaves, but honestly, this guy was making a mountain out of a molehill.

  ‘It’ll stink of dog pee now too,’ he continued gruffly. ‘Here, get it off, quick, before the girls go and ruin their dresses on it.’ He passed her a pint glass of water.

  Lucy swiftly drenched the sign, which did now look a sorry mess. She propped the board back up, uttered a further apology as she handed the empty glass back, and headed off to put Daisy back in the truck, out of sight and mischief, for a while. Oops.

  ‘Daisy, I cannot believe you just did that,’ Lucy shook her head as she walked away, feeling rather mortified, yet repressing a small smile too. Back at her truck, she lifted the cheeky little dachshund back into her secure place, popping a dog biscuit in with her to keep her happy. Diva Daisy just looked at her owner with those cute brown eyes. ‘I’ll see you later, Miss Mischief.’ The dog slumped down with a small sigh, resigned to her fate, and ready for another snooze after that little adventure.

  Lucy stole a quick glance over at Jack and saw him shaking his head at his sorry little sign. I bet he didn’t bank on that being on the menu, she thought with a chuckle. Who’s Mr Cocky now then?

  Chapter 3

  Lucy was back at her little cottage after midnight, having dropped Tamsin off en route. She was enjoying a much-needed cup of tea and a snack of buttered toast, perched on a stool in the cosy galley kitchen with Daisy at her feet. The room was rustic, yet comforting, with thick, stone, white-washed walls and a low ceiling, and two small square-paned windows that looked out upon the little back courtyard area. All was still and dark outside now.

  She’d done it – she’d made it through her third event. Abigail and Harriet had made a point of coming over to thank her at the end of the evening, impressed with how many of the guests were talking about her delicious pizzas, and Harriet was even going to post some pics of the gorgeous horsebox and give All Fired Up a mention on her Instagram. It sounded very much like they’d forgiven her for her late arrival. Phew!

  Even her new assistant, Tamsin, had worked pretty hard in the end and had helped it all to come together; though Lucy did wonder if the young girl would want to stick with it. She’d kept firing off messages on her phone throughout the evening, and furrowing her brow when she thought Lucy wasn’t watching.

  Crikey, all this was so new and different from her accountancy work at the office in Morpeth. I can’t believe you’ve just upped and packed it all in on a whim! Her dad’s strong words rang in her ears. His reluctance to see her give up a regular monthly salary and a steady job in the accounts department of Edwin Grant’s was well known. For years, he had persuaded her to commit to that stable kind of a life, saying that was the sensible and well-paid thing to do work-wise. But Lucy had become sick of the same old, four-walled number crunching.

  And when Lucy had broken the news to her family that she was going to give up the accounting job, saying she was buying a vintage – aka slightly decrepit – horsebox to turn into her very own pizza business, well, her dad hadn’t been happy at all.

  Mum, Sofia, who’d lived on her own for many years now, since Dad needed ‘more space’ (space enough to find a new partner six months later), had been more supportive; happy at least that Lucy was trying to do something entrepreneurial, and in her beloved Papa’s memory. She’d seen how Lucy had been struggling in her relationship and career, how unhappy her daughter had been, and recognised the need for Lucy to get out and change things in her life.

  And Lucy truly believed the pizza venture was something she could enjoy doing and be proud of, albeit with sore feet and a sweat on – my, that oven was damned hot to be standing beside – and soon, hopefully, it would turn a profit and be something she could make a living from too. It had to be.

  Lucy had three further events booked in so far, and she’d been looking into market stall slots in the local towns as well. Word would spread, she was working on her website and the ‘All Fired Up’ Facebook and Instagram pages. She’d get some pictures of tonight’s party out on her feed first thing in the morning. Maybe, fingers crossed, with hard work and determination, she really could make a success of this business, and turn her life round, after all.

  For some reason, her mind drifted to the campervan guy then. She wondered what had made him go into his mobile bar business and how he’d got established? He seemed to have a pretty slick venture going there, albeit his showman manner was damned cheesy. Hah, he might be cute – she’d seen Tamsin giving him the eye too – but he was downright cocky. And he’d been a right grump when Daisy had had her peeing accident on his chalkboard. Lucy was feeling a bit riled just thinking about it again. Daisy hadn’t done it on purpose or anything, after all. Anyhow, why was she even dwelling on it, or him? Yet, somehow, she felt a little uneasy, like she’d been caught off her guard. Hah, it was probably Cocky Cocktail Man’s attitude, that sense of arrogance about him that had got to her.

  Her eye snagged on a photo that sat on the mantelpiece above the old stone hearth; she’d only kept the picture because Mum and Nonna were in it too … and there they were, her and Liam, her ex. Bloody hell, another one – alongside her dad – who’d kept down her dreams with his insistence on maintaining the regular job, the steady income.

  Liam had been arrogant enough to think that she’d never find out he had another girlfriend in the wings, or that if she did, it might not spell the end of their four-year relationship.

  It did.

  Lucy hugged her mug and gazed out of the little window beside her. All was dark out there but for the glowing crescent of a waxing moon.

  And despite her worries, it seemed to hold the hope of things to come.

  At that moment, Jack was driving back along the winding coastal roads to his lodgings in a village just outside of Alnwick. Usually, the late-night drive home along country roads soothed him; a chance to wind down after the evening’s bar-work buzz. But that bloody pizza girl crossed his mind again. Hah, turning up late, so unprofessional, and then her stupid dog wrecking his sign like that. What was she thinking, taking a dog along to a food event, anyhow?

  A weird rhyme started to form in his head as he drove:

  There was a young woman made pizza,

  With a dog that was long and a diva.

  She seemed kind of mean

  With a look of Ice Queen …

  He repeated it out loud, trying to think of a good rhyme to complete the last line. He navigated a tight bend in the lane, headlights flashing up hawthorn hedgerows.

  What the hell was he doing anyhow, making up daft poems about some annoying woman he’d just met, and her dog? Had he been a bit harsh on her, though? She seemed pretty new to the catering scene … and the dog, well, it was just a dog doing its thing … He’d let rip in the heat of the moment, he realised. Now, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it all.

  Ping! That was it:

  And the barman was left with a fever.

  He laughed at himself, bloody idiot, making up limericks in the middle of the night. It passed the journey, he supposed. He thought he might even jot it down when he got back. Saying it over once more to see if it worked, he wondered if it really was worthy of putting to paper?

  He’d not written any poetry in a while now. It used it be his thing, he remembered … not daft stuff like this, but finding the words, needing to spill out his hurts. He’d used it a bit like a therapy, when he couldn’t talk to anyone else. When his soul was in the sorest of places.

  Jack fixed once again on the road ahead. Just him and Ruby, the hum of her engine and the rhythm of the night drive; the adrenaline of the evening gradually starting to dissipate. The sky above was an inky
black, with an arc of a new moon that just caught his gaze.

  Chapter 4

  It was a bright morning, and Lucy woke early with the light filtering through her bedroom curtains. She reached out to find Daisy there in her favourite spot, curled up by Lucy’s side on top of the double duvet.

  ‘Morning, Daisy Doo.’

  Daisy gave a contented doggie sigh.

  ‘I think we’ll go and have a walk on the beach first thing.’

  Daisy snuffled and buried herself a little deeper into the covers as if to hide, which made Lucy laugh out loud.

  ‘Hah, maybe after some tea and toast then.’

  Ten minutes later, and Lucy was sat on a stool in her kitchen – Daisy was still snoozing upstairs – munching wholemeal toast with peanut butter, with a big polka-dot mug of tea beside her. A message buzzed on her mobile phone.

  So, how did it go last night? Are you all pizza’d out? X

  It was from her friend, Becky. Lucy smiled. It was great that her close pal was so interested in her new venture, that she supported her in this. In fact, she had done so with all the twists and turns of Lucy’s life these past few years. When the bombshell hit that Liam was having an affair behind her back, when she’d thrown him out of their lovely new house, when Lucy had had to find a new place to live all alone, Becky had appeared with hugs, chat, cake and a cuppa, sometimes prosecco and pizza, sensing exactly when and what was needed.

  Yeah, it went off really well, thanks. X

  She didn’t think she’d mention the delayed arrival, or … her mind drifted to the antics with Daisy and the Cocktail Campervan guy.

  Thinking of popping around this aft for a coffee and a catch-up? You about? Becky asked.

  Yes, why don’t we meet at Driftwood? Lucy typed.

  It was their favourite little coffee shop, right here in Lucy’s village, with a cosy sea view, that did the most amazing cakes and traybakes.

  2 p.m.? was fired back without hesitation.

  Perfect.

  See you later then. Xx

  Finishing her toast, Lucy then nipped upstairs to shower and dress, choosing a striped Breton top and jeans for her Sunday beach stroll. Adding a swipe of mascara and a smudge of pink lipstick to finish her casual look, she headed towards the bed to shift a still reluctant Diva Daisy downstairs ready for her morning walk.

  The tide was out this morning, and the beach was a crescent of golden sand, backed by marram grass dunes. A line of twisted, shiny brown kelp marked the high tide. Towards the shoreline, the sands had shifted into smooth pale-brown ridges with little pools. Frothy-topped waves rolled in. Sea and sky met on a horizon that was azure, with puffs of fair-day white clouds up above.

  Taking in the salty sea air plus an array of other scents, Dachshund Daisy gingerly stepped over the seaweed to reach the flat sands of the bay. She wasn’t a huge lover of water but enjoyed her treks on the beach with her owner, meeting many four-legged friends on their way and barking merrily in greeting as she went. Size didn’t matter to her – she was as happy meeting a Labrador as a terrier. They’d do a quick spin around her, a greeting sniff or two, and then she’d be off again, her nose pointed in the air, her short legs trotting along. Then she’d watch them haughtily, especially those crazy spaniel types and the border collies, whizzing off after balls and sticks like loonies, when all you had to do was walk and sit nicely now and again to receive a pat on the head and a tasty biscuit.

  Lucy sighed, taking in the fresh air and the rhythmic sounds of the sea. It was lovely to live so near to the coast. She was pleased that she’d gone with her heart and bid for the old stone cottage at Embleton; though very small, it was within walking distance of the beach. It didn’t quite have a sea view. Well, not unless you were on tiptoes and craning your neck out of the double bedroom window to catch a tiny glimpse of ultramarine below the skyline. But it was hers, it was home. With a small mortgage to her name and half the furniture from her house with Liam, she’d set off on a brave and slightly wobbly new path.

  It wasn’t where she’d expected to be at the age of thirty-one. Newly single, a proud owner of a dachshund and a tiny cottage by the sea, no longer working at the accountancy office she’d started in after her A-levels, but CEO (hah!) of the All Fired Up horsebox pizza-catering company. Crikey, life took you off in all sorts of weird and wonderful directions at times. It was a journey, hers a pretty bumpy one of late.

  But she had her friends, her family: brother Olly who lived in Alnwick with girlfriend Alice and their gorgeous toddler, Freddie; her mum who was still at the family home in Rothbury; lovely Nonna nearby, and her dad living not too far away in Whitley Bay with his new partner – another explosive twist in the family tale that had happened many years ago now.

  Thoughts of a partner and family of her own that she’d once harboured were now very much on hold. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she could put herself through all that relationship heartache and stress again. Romance was definitely overrated. Life moved on, your dreams shifted, some of them shattered and you had to let go of them, but then new goals and opportunities came to light.

  ‘Morning, Luce.’ Cathy from the village store was walking nearby on the beach with her beagle Max, who was now eagerly greeting Daisy in a twist of leads and tails.

  ‘Oh, hi.’ Lucy snapped out of her reverie and offered a warm smile.

  ‘Getting out early, before the crowds descend,’ Cathy grinned.

  ‘Yes, it’s wonderful here when it’s quiet like this.’ Lucy took in the expanse of golden sandy bay.

  ‘Mind you, can’t complain, as long as they come and spend a few of their pennies at my shop.’

  ‘Hah, yes, of course.’

  ‘Lovely day,’ Cathy added, as she moved on.

  ‘Yeah, it’s beautiful.’

  And it was, the glow of the sun was warm on her cheeks, the sea view – a glorious wash of greys, golds, blues and white – was just stunning, and walking this bay that she could now call home was so calming. Despite the heartbreaks and hurts of the past two years, and the fears that her new business might yet struggle to get going, she felt a sense of hope. That life could and would get better.

  Onwards and upwards, Lucy, she told herself. Onwards and upwards.

  Behind the counter of the Driftwood Café, owner Louise was cutting into a rich velvety chocolate cake and then plating a slice of citrussy lemon drizzle loaf. Lucy and her friend, Becky, were happily chatting away, sat at a pretty white-chalk-painted table, with mugs of swirly-cream-topped hot chocolate in front of them. (Okay, so it was nearly summer but some things were worth having all year long!) The cakes had their names on them – it was most definitely treat-time, and why not?

  The tea room was decorated with driftwood-framed coastal prints, and various arts and crafts for sale, including cute wooden puffins and seabirds carved and painted locally. There were even little rows of tiny colourful beach huts. Lucy had bought several gorgeous bits and bobs from here to cheer up her nearby cottage over the past few months.

  ‘So, tell me more about last night?’ Becky was curious. ‘What was the big country pad like?’

  ‘It was an amazing house. Huge garden, massive driveway. And inside … well, it was pretty much a mansion. You could get lost looking for the loos. In fact, I did!’ She grinned, pausing to take a sip of her creamy drink. ‘And yeah, it went off pretty well … overall. Only, I do have to confess I was bloody well late getting there. That was embarrassing, and not the best of starts.’

  ‘Oh no, were the organisers okay about that?’

  ‘Um, no, not at first, the mother gave me a bit of a dressing down when I got there, but I just got stuck in, made the best pizzas I could, and thank heavens they seemed really happy by the end.’

  ‘Well, that’s good. So, what was the new girl like? How did that work out?’

  ‘Tamsin, yeah, ah, I’m not sure. She was okay. She got going in the end and we both worked bloody hard, we had to, making and serving sixty pizzas
in all. It was like a bloomin’ production line, and I’d only just enough ingredients. It was really full on, and I don’t know … I got the impression that it was harder work than she’d imagined. We’ll see how it pans out … if she wants to come back, that is.’

  Lucy really wasn’t sure which way that would swing. She couldn’t afford to pay her much above the minimum wage whilst she was finding her feet and trying to balance the books, and the girl might be able to earn more doing her waitress work. Oh well, time would tell. One more little hurdle to leap.

  She then remembered the incident with Daisy’s bar-side pee stop. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, thinking back to how it had rolled out like a comedy sketch, and the subsequent tirade from the cocky barman.

  ‘What’s up? You’ve gone off in a little daze there.’

  ‘Oh, just thinking about this Cocktail Campervan that was there, and the barman getting shirty with me.’

  ‘What on earth for?’ Becky raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Hmm, let’s just say Daisy had a bit of a moment. I was just giving her a bit of air, and well … she proceeded to pee all over his blackboard sign! She even managed to wash off two of the listed cocktails.’

  The girls started giggling then, Lucy picturing Jack’s reddened face.

  ‘OMG. Hah, good old Daisy.’

  Daisy was in fact snug at home right now, settled in her cosy kitchen crate. Dogs weren’t allowed inside the café; though sometimes Lucy enjoyed a cup of coffee outside at one of the little street-side tables with the dachshund at her feet, both of them watching the world go by.

  ‘Anyhow, the big question is, do you think you’ve made the right decision jacking in the day job, or is it too soon to tell?’

  Lucy paused, weighing everything up, before answering. ‘Hmm, I am enjoying it. Being able to do something I love is brilliant, and I especially love that I’m using Papa’s recipe, so that side of it’s fine. But that oven is roasting, I’m sure I’m going to burn my bloody eyebrows off one of these days. Honestly, the heat it gives out!’