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  SUMMER AT THE DOG & DUCK

  Jill Steeples

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  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  www.ariafiction.com

  About Summer at the Dog & Duck

  Ellie Browne has found happiness running The Dog and Duck pub in the idyllic village of Little Leyton, and her blossoming romance with tall, handsome property developer, Max Golding, is going swimmingly. With her new best friend, Digby, the black Labrador at her side, life just couldn’t be sweeter.

  But their peace is shattered when Max’s younger sister, Katy, turns up unannounced with a whole heap of attitude. And Max’s loyalties are stretched further when his glamorous ex, Sasha, re-appears with her own burgeoning secret.

  With the master of the manor preoccupied with the demands of his ‘other women’, Ellie’s forced to consider if she has any role to play in Max’s life or in the village of Little Leyton. Can Ellie get her life and relationship back on track in time for the summer charity ball at Braithwaite Manor?

  For Phyllis and Stella

  With love

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About Summer at the Dog & Duck

  Dedication

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Acknowledgments

  About Jill Steeples

  About the Dog & Duck Series

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  One

  ‘Come on, Digby, let’s get a move on, we haven’t got all day.’

  Digby looked up at me, his ears pricked, and immediately walked on at a faster pace, his tail wagging as if understanding my every word. That nice smiley lady off the telly had assured me that spring had well and truly sprung, and she wasn’t wrong. Little Leyton was feeling positively balmy this morning. I wriggled out of my fur-trimmed anorak and hung it over my arm.

  We’d been out for over an hour already, walking our usual route across the fields and down the back lanes and now we were heading back along the High Street towards the pub. I breathed a sigh of contentment, a smile spreading involuntarily across my lips. The pub – my pub, who would have thought it? There were days when I could hardly believe it myself. After all the upheaval of last year, when we first discovered the pub was up for sale and the future of the village inn had looked uncertain for a long time, I still had to pinch myself sometimes to truly believe that I was actually running the Dog and Duck now.

  Crossing the road, a car tooted its horn and I span round to look, my heart lifting at the sight of Max Golding’s distinctive Jeep, which drew to a halt at the kerbside. The driver’s door was flung open and he jumped out.

  ‘Good morning! How’s my favourite landlady?’

  ‘Very well, thank you. And how’s my favourite hotshot property developer?’

  Max nodded, giving consideration to that idea, before his mouth curled in amusement, clearly approving of the description. He came towards me and slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss.

  ‘Yep, good. Much better now,’ he said, his voice dropping an octave.

  Butterflies danced in my stomach. I called it the Max effect. Something to do, I suspected, with his broad frame, mussed up hair and dark eyes that danced with intent, eyes that were watching me closely now. We’d been dating properly for a few months now, yet still he had the power to make my heart beat faster in my chest, and my skin tingle in anticipation.

  ‘Time for a coffee?’ I asked, mentally shaking myself free of the giddiness.

  He glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got a conference call at eleven, and a few other things I have to see to before then. We’re still on for Friday though?’

  ‘Yep, can’t wait,’ I said, quashing my disappointment with a smile.

  Just then another car, a little blue jaunty number that I didn’t recognise, pulled up behind Max’s Jeep, and the passenger door window eased open and the driver leaned across the seat to speak to us. ‘Hello, Max, Ellie!’ The woman’s voice was warm and friendly.

  I did a double take.

  ‘Sasha!’

  I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Max. The last person I’d expected to see this morning was Max’s ex-girlfriend, looking as indecently fresh-faced and naturally glamorous as I remembered. She’d left the village last autumn when she and Max decided to go their separate ways after a five year long relationship. It had been an amicable split, so Max had told me. Even so, when we got together soon afterwards it was something of a relief to know that his lovely ex was out of the way, having returned to her life in London. I’d barely given her a second thought since. But, sadly, now here she was… and she hadn’t grown any less gorgeous in the meantime.

  ‘Lovely to see you both,’ she beamed. I only wished I shared her enthusiasm at reconnecting, but, in truth, I was struggling.

  ‘You too,’ said Max, as charming as ever. ‘Although this is something of a surprise. What brings you to Little Leyton?’

  ‘Ah, long story,’ said Sasha, her gaze flickering across to me for the briefest moment. ‘In fact, I’m glad I’ve run into you, I was hoping we could have a chat. There was something I wanted to discuss, if that’s okay?’ This was very much intended for Max, and not for me, I quickly realised.

  ‘Sure thing,’ said Max. ‘I’m tied up for the next hour or so, but I’ll be free later if you want to pop down to the manor.’

  ‘Great!’ breezed Sasha.

  Great, I repeated silently through gritted teeth, while smiling sweetly. Time enough for Max to entertain his ex, but not enough time for a coffee with me. I see… As if reading my mind, Max’s arm slipped around my waist and he gave me a gentle squeeze, by way of compensation, I supposed. If Sasha was perturbed by Max’s show of affection towards me, she certainly didn't show it.

  My gaze drifted off down the High Street towards the pub where I noticed someone standing beneath the recently renovated sign of The Dog and Duck; a man peering through the glazed pane of the front door.

  ‘Look, I’m going to have to go,’ I said, curious now as to whether I had a delivery, although infinitely more curious as to what Sasha might want to discuss with Max.

  ‘See you later,’ said Max, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Lovely to see you, Ellie,’ said Sasha, from her car, lifting her hand to wave at me. ‘We must catch up soon.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, giving her a little wave in return. I tugged gently on Digby’s lead and scurried off towards the Dog and Duck, wondering if Sasha and I actually had anything to catch up on. She wasn’t a local girl and I’d only met her a couple of times when she’d still been with Max. As far as I knew, he was the only thing we had in common and I didn’t much fancy swapping notes on that particular subject.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said, rushing up to the man who now had his head pressed up against the bay window of the pub. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Ah yes, well I was hoping to get a drink around here, but…�
��

  ‘No, no, we’re open,’ I said brightly, taking a glance at my watch. It was only just gone opening time. Sod’s law that this man, who I’d never seen before, had caught me out today. ‘If you hang on, I’ll go and open up.’

  I ran round the back with Digby, my fingers fumbling with the keys to open the door. Usually, I enjoyed the quiet of the early mornings, before the first of the customers arrived. It gave me a chance to get myself organised, and to get my head straight too, and after my unexpected meeting with Max and Sasha today, my mind was all over the place.

  ‘What can I get you?’ I asked, once I’d unbolted the front door and ushered the man inside. Digby gave his sniff of approval before wandering off and slumping on the rug in front of the fireplace.

  ‘I’ll have a pint of Best please.’

  ‘Ah…’ Wasn’t that just typical? We’d been so busy yesterday that by the end of the evening all the barrels had run dry. Dan was coming in early today to change them over, but clearly not early enough for this particular customer. ‘I’m really sorry; the draught beers are off at the moment. They’ll be back up later.’

  ‘Oh.’ I saw the disappointment on the man’s face and heard the disapproving tone in that one little word. ‘I’d better have one of the bottled beers then. I’ll try this one,’ he said, pointing to the list of craft beers on the blackboard. He planted himself on a stool up at the bar, and looked all around him. My gaze followed his and it was only then I noticed the mop and bucket resting against the old oak beam. Denise, our cleaner, had phoned in sick this morning, so I’d had a quick whizz around instead. Only after a few minutes of half-hearted mopping, I’d got distracted, which was often the case when I was cleaning, and had decided that a walk outside with Digby was a much better proposition. I’d planned on picking up where I’d left off when we got back, only I hadn’t anticipated my early morning customer. ‘This place has had a bit of a spruce up since I was last in,’ he said now, ‘although that was probably a few years back.’

  ‘Yes, we’re under new ownership. A full refurbishment was carried out just before Christmas.’ I poured the beer into a glass and handed it across. ‘We’ve tried to keep the essence of the pub as it’s always been though.’

  The man nodded and turned his gaze to appraise me. ‘You must be Ellie Browne then?’

  ‘Yes…’

  ‘I’ve seen the write-ups in the local press. I remember Eric well, of course. He was a decent bloke. Ran a good pub.’ He paused for a moment to look me up and down. ‘To be honest, I was expecting someone older.’

  ‘Everyone does,’ I said, breezily, ignoring the slight. I dashed round to the other side of the bar to collect the cleaning paraphernalia, but I failed to notice the low stool that I’d moved out of the way earlier, and which was now very much in the way, tripping over it and catapulting into the bucket, sending the contents spilling everywhere.

  ‘Shit! Oh bugger. Oops … sorry!’ I said, suddenly remembering my customer, who was looking down at the water pooling around his lovely brown brogues. He grimaced and lifted up his feet and placed them on the bar rest of the stool while I mopped up around him.

  In three months of running the pub I’d grown used to the comments from people surprised that a woman in her twenties might have the audacity to think she could run a pub. Honestly, what were they expecting? That I’d get rid of the old wooden seats and bring in a bunch of bean bags, and do away with the real ales and turn the pub into one of those dry bars that were apparently all the rage these days?

  Still, the people that mattered most to me had complete and utter faith in my abilities. Max Golding, the new owner and saviour of the pub – not to mention stealer of my heart – was the one who’d asked in the first place if I would consider running the Dog and Duck. He’d stepped in to buy the place when rumours were rife around the village that the pub might be sold, leaving the old inn to an uncertain future. At the same time, Eric, the landlord, who I’d known since I was a small girl, had decided to retire, creating a vacancy at the pub that urgently needed filling. Along with my doggy daycare business I’d been working several shifts at the pub anyway - I’d worked there on and off for years - and along with most other people in Little Leyton, I wanted to see the Dog & Duck continue as it had always done. With Eric’s encouragement and the support of my family and friends in the village, I’d taken on the role and hadn’t regretted the decision for one moment. Now as I sloshed the mop up and down, I was determined not to let this man’s throwaway comment rattle me.

  ‘Do you have any pork scratchings?’

  ‘Um…’ Oh, double bugger! They were on my list of items to collect from the cash and carry later today. ‘We’ve got crisps and peanuts.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said the man, unconvincingly.

  What was it they said? You can’t please all of the people all of the time, and I suspected this could be one of those times.

  ‘Right, well thanks very much,’ said the man, pushing his half-finished beer back across the bar and shaking out his feet in an exaggerated manner. Totally unnecessarily, I thought. ‘I’ll come back some other time, when you’ve got your draught beers on.’

  ‘Yes, please do,’ I said with a smile, but I was left with the distinct impression that he was one very dissatisfied customer.

  ‘Crikey, someone’s an early bird.’ Dan came through the front door for the start of his shift, passing the customer on his way out.

  ‘Yep, you don’t know him, do you? Came in for a pint but was a bit disappointed to find all the draught beers off.’

  Dan looked at his watch and shrugged. ‘Better get those barrels changed right away then. Didn’t really catch a look at the guy though.’

  ‘Dan? Can I ask you something?’

  He stopped, one hand on the cellar door and turned to look at me. ‘Sure. Fire away.’

  ‘Tell me honestly. Do you think I’m the right person to be running the pub?’

  ‘What!? Where the hell has that come from?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I just sometimes wonder if the regulars miss having Eric around. If they wouldn’t want someone more blokeish behind the pumps?’

  Dan chuckled and shook his head. ‘Well, I don’t think you’d ever fill the blokeish remit. You’ve not had any complaints, have you? The locals love you. Everyone’s just pleased that the Dog and Duck is still here, running as it’s always been. For a while there, we didn’t even know if Little Leyton would get to keep its pub. You were the perfect choice, Ellie, and you’re doing a great job.’

  ‘Thanks Dan,’ I said, warmed by his words. I picked up a tea towel and began polishing some glasses. ‘I was just having a moment, that’s all.’ A moment brought on by Sasha's sudden reappearance, I suspected, and only made worse by my unexpected and awkward customer this morning.

  ‘Look, don’t let that bloke bother you. He’ll probably never come back again.’ Dan paused, a smile toying at his lips. ‘Unless of course he was from the Good Pub Guide…’

  ‘Oh… my… gosh… He couldn’t be, could he?’

  Dan shrugged. ‘Hmmm, well they do tend to make a habit of popping in at the most unlikely times.’

  ‘Oh great,’ I sighed. ‘That’s just bloody brilliant.’

  ‘Hello lovely, get me a triple vodka, on the rocks please!’

  Thankfully, before I’d had chance to consider whether my early morning customer had actually been from one of the most influential pub guides in the business or was just a grumpy middle-aged man, Polly waltzed into the pub and slumped down on a stool at the bar.

  ‘Oh, you’re having a bad day too then?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I really am, and it’s not even lunchtime yet! I suppose I’ll have to give the vodka a miss; a coffee will have to do. I’ve left Jacqui in charge of the shop.’

  I smiled. Polly, one of my best friends, and proprietor of Polly’s Flowers, which just so happened to be next door, was a frequent visitor to the pub, usually popping in when she knew it wo
uld be quiet to have her favourite tipple of an orange juice and lemonade, or if she was pushing the boat out like today, a coffee, and the opportunity to catch up on all the news.

  With Dan down in the cellar, I put two large cups on the tray of the coffee machine and pressed the button for two cappuccinos, handing Polly her cup when it was ready, before sitting down on the stool opposite her with my drink.

  ‘So, come on then, what’s gone quite so wrong today?’

  ‘That’s just the thing. Nothing in particular. I got in early to do the orders, and was absolutely fine putting together the bouquets and wreaths, and then just as I was putting cellophane over the last order, some stupid song came on the radio and that was it, I was gone. Within moments tears were running down my cheeks and I was one hot snivelling mess. “Johnny Remember Me,” would you believe? As if I needed any reminding.’

  I groaned. Bloody Johnny Tay.

  ‘Honestly, Ellie. I thought I was over him. I’ve been doing really well these last few weeks, trying my hardest to put him out of mind and then all it takes is one silly tune and I’m right back there to when it happened.’

  ‘Oh Polly.’ I leaned over the bar and wrapped my arms around her neck. ‘It’s just a wobble. You were bound to have some along the way. It’s good to have a cry. Get it out of your system and then move on again. You’ve been doing brilliantly well.’

  Polly gave a rueful shrug. ‘I thought so too, but if I’m being honest I miss Johnny so much. I still don’t understand what happened.’ She sighed heavily. ‘One minute we were getting on fantastically, talking about a future together, and the next thing he’s telling me he isn’t sure what he feels anymore and that he needs some space. What did I do so wrong?’

  ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Polly. You have to get that thought out of your head. This wasn’t about you. It was about Johnny. He had a midlife crisis – it just came a bit early that was all, more like a quarter-life crisis, I suppose. You have to remember that he’s spent his whole life in this village, he didn’t go away to university or take a year off to go travelling around the world, and I think he just thought if he didn’t do something now, break out of his rut, then he might never do it.’