The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

by Caroline Roberts

  He leapt down from Ruby with a spring in his step. ‘Hey,’ he called out. ‘So we’re neighbours for the evening.’

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Lucy looked up with a clipped smile. ‘Yep, looks like it.’

  ‘Have to watch out for my signs then,’ Jack quipped.

  ‘Hah, well Daisy’s not here tonight, so they should all be fine,’ Lucy’s lips tightened as she responded, remembering that embarrassing occasion all too well. She’d left the dachshund with her brother tonight. Toddler Freddie had been having great fun with her in the garden, and didn’t want the little dog to go. With Lucy working all evening, that seemed to suit them all.

  Jack hadn’t really intended winding her up, so he persevered: ‘Only kidding. So, everything okay? How did the market day go?’

  ‘Yeah, pretty good thanks. It’s all a bit of a learning curve just now, but yes, it’s going alright. And you?’

  ‘Yeah, good thanks, been busy. All go with three events in three days. Not complaining, mind you. It’s bringing in the money, and that’s what it’s all about.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Lucy paused, thinking how frustratingly slowly bookings were coming in for her. Other than the market, this was the first event booking in a fortnight. If things stayed like this, she knew she couldn’t afford to carry on this way. Her dad would be proven right and she’d be back looking for office-work. Back within four walls and pinned behind a desk. ‘Was it always as busy for you?’ she asked, unable to hide the slight frown that crossed her brow.

  Jack cast his mind back to his early days with Ruby – a half-empty diary and a half-empty bank account. ‘No, not at all. It just built up, kind of organically, I suppose. Getting the word out there. Social media and suchlike. Going to events … getting seen, building a reputation. Oh, and I had flyers out on the bar counter, still do actually. That’s always a good thing to do.’

  ‘Hmm, that sounds a great idea.’ Why the hell hadn’t she thought of that? Sometimes it felt like she still had so much to learn. Running this business certainly wasn’t just about making tasty pizzas.

  ‘Right, well I’d better be getting Ruby set up,’ Jack said with a flash of a smile.

  ‘Ruby?’

  ‘Yeah, my campervan. She’s called Ruby. Ruby red and all that.’

  ‘Hah, yes. That’s cute.’ Despite herself, Lucy smiled, finding she couldn’t help but warm to this guy. Okay, so he might be a bit cocky, a bit of a showman bartender. But maybe she should accept a bit of advice here and there from someone who knew the ropes.

  Tamsin then appeared, having waltzed off in search of a can of something sugary and fizzy. On the way there, she’d confessed to having been at an ‘awesome’ party the night before and was still evidently feeling the effects. Lucy wondered with concern how hard-working she might be tonight.

  ‘Well, anyway, if there’s anything you need this evening, just shout,’ Jack offered cheerily, as he headed back to set up his Cocktail Campervan bar.

  ‘Thanks.’ And well, maybe she’d take him up on his offer of help after all.

  Wow, it was all go. There must have been a couple of hundred people at the event. After welcome cocktails, organised and paid for by the host Frank, Jack was doing a ‘free’ bar for the night (the tab again to be picked up by the generous Frank) which was proving to be full-on and lucrative. The guests were certainly enjoying their drinks, with the fairground-themed ones especially going down a storm.

  Jack noticed that Lucy had queues at her food counter for much of the evening too. In between mixing and serving his drinks, he’d glimpsed her stood at the wood-fired oven, working away with her pizza paddle, and sometimes chatting away with her customers whilst slicing and handing over the deliciously-topped bases. Mmm, another waft of hot baked dough, cheese and tomato, came his way. He’d been tantalised by the aromas drifting across to his bar all evening. They were far too tempting; he’d have to try one of her pizzas himself if he got the chance later on. He’d grabbed a quick sandwich for supper earlier and his tummy was now protesting and feeling rather empty. He’d heard several passers-by commenting on how good they were, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased for Lucy and her fledgling business.

  Halfway through the evening, at around nine thirty, Frank appeared, taking the time to chat with each of the stallholders in turn.

  ‘Good evening, so this is the famous Cocktail Campervan. I have to say, she looks rather wonderful.’

  ‘She is, thank you. I converted her myself, well mostly,’ Jack responded proudly.

  ‘You’ve done a cracking job. A seventies classic?’

  ‘She is indeed, a 1971 VW Westfalia, chianti red.’

  ‘Hah, yes, I spotted the left-hand drive. Used to own one myself back in the day. A ’74 T2, baby blue. Ah, those were the days, trips to the coast, lazy afternoons by the sea, surfing …’ Frank’s blue-grey eyes glazed with nostalgia.

  ‘Sounds cool. They all have their own characters, don’t they. Well, what an amazing party you’ve organised here. Love the fairground theme.’

  ‘Thanks. It’s been wonderful getting everybody together.’

  Jack smiled; Frank seemed such a nice guy. ‘So, what can I get for you? Glass of champagne, a cold beer, cocktail, mocktail? Whatever you fancy, and this one’s on the house.’

  ‘Well, thank you. A nice cold bottle of beer would go down a treat. I should probably be having a fresh juice,’ he winked, ‘but our Linda’s not around just now …’

  ‘So, what’re the celebrations for?’ Jack asked. He was curious as no-one had mentioned a birthday or anniversary event.

  ‘Well then, I wanted to get all my friends and family together … to celebrate the fact that I’m now cancer-free. A bloody miracle and all credit to the NHS. It’s been a tough couple of years, so I figured we needed a bloody big party and a whole heap of fun. Hence having the fairground here, too.’

  ‘Oh, wow. Well, good for you. What a brilliant idea.’

  ‘Yes, it made me realise that life is too short. My money was sat wasting away in the bank, with my body at that time wasting away around me. Well, I feel like I’ve got a second chance. I gave a chunk to charity and I’m going to live life to the full from now on, and I intend to enjoy every damn moment. And, if you’ve got your wits about you, young man, I suggest you do the same. What is it you young people say? YOLO, or something?’

  Jack felt a lump rise in his throat. ‘That’s the one, You Only Live Once. Well, congratulations on your all clear. Have a wonderful night, all of you.’

  ‘Grandad, Gran-dad, come on …’ A young girl, about ten years old, dashed over, grabbing Frank’s hand. ‘Mummy’s waiting for you on the Merry-Go-Round!’

  ‘Of course, darling. On my way. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ He turned to Jack, ‘I’ll fetch that beer later. Have a good night.’

  ‘You too.’

  Jack watched him go; he felt warmed with emotion, yet a little bit raw around the edges too. Life … it seemed to balance on a pinhead at times.

  Ruby’s bar was buzzing throughout the evening, and Lucy had to admit it looked great. The deep glossy red of the campervan’s paintwork was set against its chrome countertop, which pulled down, hatch-like, to one side. Jack had it set out with a three-tiered stand of colourful garnishes, gorgeous cut glasses, a metal ice bucket filled enticingly with chilled sparkling wine bottles, and the jazzy backdrop of the light bulb-lit blackboard menu behind him in the raised white roof section. And as she stole a quick glance whilst cooking, there was Jack himself, spinning his most charming banter to a crowd of young ladies, all the while performing his sleight-of-hand mixology. It was indeed like watching a show, and although he still appeared a little cocky, he clearly loved what he did.

  The odd snatch of conversation filtered Lucy’s way, and she found herself listening in: ‘So ladies, do you have a favourite drink in mind? Or, would you like me to take a guess at your likes and then create your ideal personal cocktails?’

  Three rather pre
tty twenty-somethings were gazing up at him with awed smiles.

  ‘Ooh, yes, choose us something!’ one of them said.

  ‘So, what do you think I’d like?’ Lady No. 2 purred.

  ‘For you, something a little exotic, with a hint of juicy pineapple and a swirl of creamy coconut, perhaps?’ Blimey, he was sounding like a male version of Nigella Lawson. Making cocktails suddenly sounded sooo sexy. Of course, it was far too over the top for Lucy’s liking. Pretty damned cheesy, to be honest, but still she listened in, with a hint of a smile across her lips, as she loaded another pizza base with toppings.

  ‘Oh my, that sounds delicious,’ No. 2 answered.

  ‘So, I’m talking piña colada but not just any old piña colada. Oh no, a Jack’s Cocktail Campervan Special Colada with an extra hint of lime and my secret ingredient.’

  ‘Oooh, what’s that?’

  ‘I’d love to tell you, but it’s top secret. You’d have to kill me first.’ He gave a wink.

  ‘Hah, okay yeah, go ahead. I’ll take one of those. It sounds divine.’

  He started prepping, slicing and pouring, and was soon shaking his cocktail mixer dramatically.

  ‘And for you,’ a minute or so later, he turned his attention back to the first girl. ‘I saw how much you loved the candyfloss cocktail earlier, so I’ll make you another, but a different flavour this time. Watch and learn, it’s going to be a flossy little Sex on the Beach.’

  Lucy was stood beside Tamsin, the pair of them slicing red onions at this point, when she suddenly felt the tip of the knife graze her thumb. Oops, she looked down quickly – thank god it hadn’t pierced the skin. Right, enough of watching that guy’s cocktail shenanigans, she’d better concentrate on her own catering. Time to load these next two pizzas into the oven. She too had customers waiting.

  ‘These’ll just be a few minutes cooking. So, here’s your ticket and I’ll call out the number as soon as they’re ready. Don’t stray too far.’ Lucy gave a friendly smile as she spoke to the next people in the queue.

  ‘Thanks, darling.’

  The two lads she’d been serving headed off towards the Campervan bar. Her eyes couldn’t help but follow them. Just before she was about to turn away, Jack caught her eye. ‘You okay? All going fine there?’ he mouthed.

  ‘Yeah, thanks,’ she replied with a nod.

  Jack gave her a thumbs up, and then a middle-aged couple approached her counter, talking with Tamsin and obscuring Lucy’s view. She and Jack cracked on again, getting lost in their work for a while. It was proving to be a hectic and thankfully profitable night.

  Lucy found herself relaxing into her role this evening, not feeling quite so nervous about getting things wrong, even though it was full-on. The partygoers were a genial bunch, of all ages. It seemed to be a huge family and friends’ event. And the fairground theme had given the party an extra fun dimension. Smells of hotdogs, burgers, candyfloss and toffee apples were tantalisingly filling the air from the other stalls; bringing back memories of years gone by. Pulling her back to nights spent at The Hoppings down in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, when the fair was in town. Nights filled with excitement, treats, whizzy rides and flashing lights. The twopenny-pusher machines that she and her brother, Olly, could happily spend hours on. And Dad winning a soft toy monkey for her – after many attempts – on the Hoopla. She’d named him Mr H. ‘H’ for Hoopla. In fact, she still had him, sat on a shelf in her bedroom at the cottage. Nights when they were still a family unit, many years ago now, when Mum and Dad were still together. Lucy felt a pang of nostalgia.

  Chapter 13

  Midnight came around in a whirl, the sky was dark yet comforting, cloaking them all with a magical star-lit background, the perfect foil to the flashing fairground lights and music. Jack watched as Frank picked up two of his grandchildren simultaneously, giving them a joyful whizz in his arms. Family, happy moments, the simple things in life, that’s what mattered. He let out a slow breath, refocussed. It would soon be time to start clearing up and packing away. Jack completed an order for two mojitos and, with the partygoers now few and far between, he felt drawn to head across to see Lucy.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hey there.’

  ‘Wow, that was a busy old night, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, you can say that again. We’ve been run off our feet. Thank goodness I had Tamsin here to help.’ The young girl looked up, hardly able to suppress a yawn, and went back to scrolling through her phone.

  ‘Luckily,’ Lucy continued, ‘I’d brought plenty of bases and toppings. Thought I’d gone a bit overboard, to be honest, but I’m glad I did now. I’ve just got a couple of margherita pizzas left and that’s it.’

  ‘That’s great. Talking of which, could I buy one? I’m absolutely famished,’ Jack said, rubbing his empty stomach.

  ‘Of course, here. Have one on the house. I’ve already cooked them, as I needed to let the oven cool down. They’d only go to waste otherwise.’

  ‘Ah, that’s brilliant. I appreciate that. Cheers.’

  Lucy popped a pizza into a box for him. Could the ice queen finally be thawing?

  Jack took a big bite, unable to wait any longer. ‘Delicious, thank you. So, is there a real Papa?’ He gestured to the logo and the strapline on the side of the horsebox:

  All Fired Up. Wood-fired Pizza just like Papa used to make!

  ‘Yes, there is,’ Lucy paused, looking a little distant. ‘My grandpa. He was Italian. My mum called him Papa, and it kind of stuck for the whole family.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re part-Italian. Now that explains those gorgeous dark-brown eyes.’

  Lucy felt herself blush for a moment. What was it with this Jack and his cheesy one-liners? Of course, it was the kind of charming spiel he came out with all the time.

  ‘I am indeed. Papa came over from Italy as a child. His family had a restaurant in Newcastle. Many years ago; it’s all gone now … He fell head over heels with Nonna, my grandma, who was a proper Geordie. Hah, they used to love telling the story of how they first met.’ Lucy’s eyes were bright as she remembered the tale.

  ‘Go on then, you’ll have to tell me now,’ Jack urged. This Papa sounded a real character. ‘Hang on, can I fetch you a drink? It’s gone quiet here now. I think we can get away with a break before packing up. A glass of prosecco, or a soft drink, maybe?’ He recognised that they’d both be driving. He kept in some alcohol-free lagers, which he himself enjoyed now and again at the end of a busy night.

  ‘Something non-alcohol, yeah, that’d be good,’ answered Lucy.

  ‘Anything for you?’ he turned to include a rather sullen-looking Tamsin in the offer.

  ‘Oh, now you’re asking,’ the young girl perked up. ‘I’ve been working like some kind of slave all night. So yeah, I’d love a cocktail. Something strong and sassy.’

  The young girl was now batting her eyelids at Jack, and had evidently recovered from her hangover, Lucy mused.

  ‘Right-o,’ Jack said, somewhat taken back, ‘I’ll fix you both a surprise and then you can tell me that story, Luce. Two tics.’

  He whizzed back to the campervan, and with a stir and a shake, some mint, strawberries and crushed ice, soon reappeared with two cocktails in hand. ‘Virgin Mojito for you, Lucy. All the taste, and none of the alcohol. And,’ he turned to Tamsin, ‘a Strawberry Mojito for you – sassy strawberry, with plenty of kick.’

  Lucy took a sip. ‘Wow, this is great. Thank you. I love the sharpness of the lime and the mint, so refreshing.’

  ‘Lush,’ was all Tamsin said, after taking a huge slurp. She flashed Jack a grin, made a token gesture of wiping over the counter, then went back to her phone scrolling.

  ‘So, Papa’s story?’ The party was winding down, there was no-one waiting at Ruby, so Jack took up one of the little chairs beside the horsebox trailer.

  Lucy finished wiping down the surfaces and then leaned out of the hatch, with her mocktail in hand, ready to tell the tale.

  ‘Okay, so, how my grandparents
met … Well, my grandma – or Nonna as we call her – Nancy, she came into Papa’s family’s restaurant down near the quayside in Newcastle for dinner one day, with her then boyfriend. Papa was working and happened to be their waiter. Some item had been missed from their order, and the boyfriend guy was really rude and offensive about it. Papa took an instant dislike to him, but the lady with him seemed lovely, trying her best to calm the situation.’

  Jack nodded, enjoying the story.

  ‘And, Papa was taken in by this lady’s beautiful blue eyes and her dark hair.’

  Jack instinctively looked up into Lucy’s eyes – dark brown, not blue – but very distinctive; and her hair, yes … those glossy dark waves he’d noted the first time he ever saw her.

  ‘He wondered what on earth a nice young woman like her was doing with such a chap,’ Lucy continued. ‘Well, that was it. After they’d left, Papa was determined to find out who she was, and at least to talk to her. He realised he might only get one chance, might never see her again after tonight. He suddenly spotted an umbrella that had been left hanging around by the main entrance. He knew it wasn’t hers, of course he did. But he grabbed it anyway.

  ‘The two of them, Nonna and the boyfriend, were away up the street, walking some distance apart, obviously having taken umbrage with each other. “Excuse me, madam,” he called out as he chased after them. “I think you must have left your umbrella.”

  ‘She looked confused, about to say it wasn’t hers, and then saw his broad smile and vigorous nodding. “Oh yes … right, thank you,” she said. He approached, close enough to whisper, “If you’d like to come out on a proper date, I’d really love to be the one to take you.” He then handed over the umbrella along with one of the restaurant’s business cards. “My name is Antonio.”