Summer at the Dog & Duck Read online

  Polly’s mouth curled in disapproval, and I wondered if I didn’t sound as though I was sticking up for Johnny. ‘Funny how he chose that particular moment to escape, just as things were becoming more serious between us, when we had so much to look forward to.’ She swirled her coffee in its cup and my heart twisted at her obvious sadness.

  Their romance had been a bit of a whirlwind admittedly, they started dating and within a couple of weeks were inseparable, so we were all shocked when Johnny upped and left suddenly. No one more so than me. That last conversation I’d had with him, the day before he headed out of Little Leyton with only his rucksack on his back, had played over in my head so many times. Could I have said or done anything to prevent him from leaving?

  ‘It’s just something I have to do, Ellie,’ he’d told me. ‘I’ve not planned this, but with a brand new year ahead, I’ve just got this burning desire to get away, to see what else the world has to offer me.’

  It was so unlike the Johnny I knew and loved. We’d been friends since school and even had a bit of a fling when we were teenagers, but I could never have seen this coming. ‘But what about Polly? I thought you two were good together.’

  ‘We are. She’s a great girl and the last thing I want to do is hurt her, but…’ He’d paused, raking a hand through his hair. ‘…The time isn’t right for me. I need to get away. I’m not sure I can trust my feelings anymore. When you think about it, it wasn’t that long ago that I was feeling the same way about you.’

  The intensity of his gaze upon mine had made me uneasy.

  ‘Oh Johnny, that’s not what this is about, is it?’ It was my only regret about coming back to Little Leyton, falling into the easy familiarity of Johnny’s arms that first weekend. In hindsight, it had been a stupid thing to do and telling him that we had no future together as a couple was one of the hardest things I’d had to do. To be honest, I was relieved when he and Polly got together shortly afterwards. It got me off the hook, or so I’d thought.

  ‘No.’ He’d shrugged. ‘Well… I don’t know.’

  Which had done nothing to ease my conscience at all. Now as I looked across at Polly, I felt a pang of guilt that I’d played some small part in Johnny’s sudden wanderlust.

  ‘Look Polly, I wouldn’t spend any more time obsessing about it. You’ll drive yourself mad. Johnny’s gone off to make a new future and, however hard it is, that’s what you need to do too.’

  ‘Hmm, I suppose you’re right.’ She wiggled on her stool, straightened herself up and gave me a rueful smile. ‘It doesn’t seem the same around here now though, with Johnny gone. And Eric. And your parents.’

  ‘I know, it feels like the whole bloody village has deserted us!’ I laughed.

  My parents had left about this time last year – just after I’d returned to the village, although I felt sure that had no bearing on their decision – when my dad took up a new job in Dubai. It was only meant to be for nine months, but they’d both taken to the ex-pat lifestyle so well that when the company offered to extend dad’s contract, they’d jumped at the chance. Then Eric, who had always been like a second father to me, had decided he wanted to travel the world too after hanging up his tea towel over the pumps at The Dog and Duck for one last time.

  ‘Please tell me you’re not making plans to disappear to the other side of the world?’ said Polly, only half-jokingly.

  ‘No way, I’ve got too much to do around here.’

  Returning home last year after being made redundant from my job in the city, I’d found solace in a simpler way of life, working shifts at the Dog and Duck, and running my own doggy day care business. It had only ever been intended as a temporary move – it was hardly as if I could make a career out of pulling pints and walking dogs – but then, just before Christmas, I was faced with a decision. Should I return to London and take up the frankly amazing job I’d been offered at a top-notch corporate firm, with a salary to match, or should I follow my heart and stay in the village and take over the running of the pub?

  My decision was made a whole lot simpler when Gemma, one of my dog-walking clients confided in me that she wouldn’t be able to keep her dog, Digby, the black Labrador, who I walked on a regular basis, because her husband had lost his job and they were moving into smaller, rented accommodation. Without even thinking, I’d offered Digby a home with me. A sign, if I’d needed one, that Little Leyton was where my future lay.

  ‘So,’ said Polly now, ‘enough about me, and my miserable love life, how’s things with you? How’s it going with the delectable Mr Golding?’

  Hmm, and of course there’d been other more enticing reasons making me want to stay in the village. The Max effect.

  My hand reached down to ruffle Digby’s coat, who’d wandered over to my side, and I felt warmly appreciative that these days I had not just one, but two dark and handsome men in my life.

  ‘Fine, we’re both so busy of course. We’re not getting to see much of each other at the moment, but, yeah, it’s good.’

  More than good in fact. Admittedly, our relationship hadn’t got off to the best of starts and there’d been some wobbly moments along the way, but we’d now found a new deeper level of understanding. Initially I’d been wary and suspicious of the man I’d met when I was wading about in the river on his estate trying to rescue Milo, the escaping Cockapoo, one of many fond memories from my dog-walking days. I hadn’t known then that I was trespassing on Max's land, only that the tall, good-looking stranger had an immediate and startling effect upon me. There was something about him that infiltrated my skin, and it wasn’t just the water flooding my wellies at the time, it was something else, something that I simply couldn’t ignore.

  Later, finding out that he had a gorgeous girlfriend installed at Braithwaite Manor, his impressive home, and that he was making enquiries about buying The Dog and Duck, only added to my innate distrust of the man. Rumours were spreading around the village that Max wanted to buy the pub and convert it into a luxury home, making a quick profit, and I was determined not to let that happen. As it was I’d had no reason to doubt Max’s intentions, he turned out to be the village’s knight in shining armour when he stepped in to save the pub from an uncertain future.

  ‘Oh, look at you,’ Polly joshed, nudging me out of my daydreaming, ‘one mention of Max’s name and you go all soppy.’

  ‘No, I was just thinking that was all. I bumped into Max earlier, outside, we were having a chat when Sasha turned up.’

  ‘What?! Max’s ex?’

  ‘Yeah, did you ever meet her?’

  ‘No, although I saw her a couple of times. Very attractive girl. Brunette. Tall and leggy.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s her,’ I said, not really appreciating Polly’s enthusiastic description, even if she was right on every count.

  ‘Hmm, so what’s she doing back in the village then?’

  I shrugged. It was a question I was asking myself too.

  Two

  ‘Thanks for the coffee, Ellie! See you later.’

  Picking up the dirty cups, I took them out to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher, my mind mulling over recent events.

  At least Polly had left in better spirits than when she’d arrived, but I hoped her cheery facade wasn’t for my benefit only. All these weeks and I thought she’d been handling the break-up with Johnny well. What a rubbish friend I was! I’d been so wrapped up in the pub, and with Max, that I wondered, with a twist of guilt, if I hadn’t given Polly the time she’d needed. I would need to make it up to her.

  Dan wandered back up from the cellar, a crate of Belgian beers in his hands.

  ‘All done,’ he said, with a smile.

  ‘Great, thanks for that. You see, if only that customer had come in an hour later he could have discovered just how wonderful our beers are.’

  ‘Honestly, don’t give him a second thought. There’ll always be that one tricky customer.’

  Dan was my cellar-man and right-hand man and I honestly didn’t know w
hat I’d do without him. We’d been workmates at the pub for years, first sharing shifts together when I was still a teenager, and I’d been worried when I took over as landlady that he might resent the change in the status, but I should have known better. Dan didn’t have an ounce of malice in him, despite the multitude of tattoos and piercings possibly suggesting otherwise, and took everything in his stride.

  ‘How’s Silke?’ Silke was Dan’s girlfriend and they lived together on a narrowboat on the canal just five minutes away, which meant he was always on hand for any emergencies at the pub, although I tried my hardest not to take advantage of his good nature.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, nodding. ‘Good.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, glancing at my watch, ‘I should get off to the cash and carry, and then I’ll be back for the lunchtime rush. I need to check on George too. See how he’s getting on.’

  ‘George?’ said Dan, his brow furrowing. ‘Now, let me guess. A Dalmation? A Retriever? Or that scruffy Bitsa you had in here the other day?’

  I laughed. ‘No, George isn’t a dog. And for your information, that scruffy Bitsa is called Shirley, and she’s absolutely adorable.’

  Dan curled his lip, looking wholly unconvinced. Since Christmas, Dan had accepted, with remarkable good grace, the steady flow of canine visitors to the pub. With a heavy heart, I’d had to make the decision to cut back on my doggy day care duties. With the responsibility of the pub, I just didn’t have the time, but that hadn’t stopped me from helping out my friends – because that’s what my clients had become – when I could. Milo, Holly, Rosie, Amber, Shirley and many others dogs were frequent visitors to the pub, staying for a couple of hours, or for the day, joining Digby and me on our daily walk across the fields.

  It wasn’t in Dan’s job description to care for my four-legged friends, but he took it all in good part, even managing to keep his cursing down to the bare minimum when they got under his feet behind the bar, tripping him up and sending beer spilling out of the pint glasses he was serving, but I liked to think it all added to the cosy atmosphere of The Dog and Duck.

  ‘So who is George then?’ Dan looked perplexed.

  ‘Oh, he’s the new tenant who’s moved into mum and dad’s house. I haven’t met him yet, so I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself and see how he’s doing, ask him if there’s anything he needs.’

  ‘Ah right, and absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re just dead nosy about who’s living in your old home?’

  ‘Whatever are you suggesting?’ I said, laughing at Dan’s perceptiveness. ‘Just being a friendly neighbour, that’s all.’

  Outside, the sun had broken through the cloud and the air felt warmer than it had earlier this morning. The grey stone of the buildings in the High Street were lifted by the bright cheerfulness of daffodils poking their heads up from the pavements. Across the street, I spotted Dave and Janet, a couple of my regulars, who were walking hand-in-hand deep in conversation. Mrs Shah from the newsagents poked her head out from her shop and gave me a cheery wave as I passed, and I could see the distinctive sight of Rosie’s little tail bobbing in the distance as she walked alongside Mrs Elmore. I took a deep breath, feeling renewed gratitude that this was where I’d chosen to make my home. Really, there was no place better.

  When I reached the gate to No. 2 Ivy Lane Cottage, I wavered for the briefest moment, my gaze running up and down the stone cottage that had been our happy family home for so many years. It felt strange to be here as a visitor, unable to walk up the path and put my key in the door, and let myself in. To find mum and dad waiting for me inside. This was someone else’s home now, and I supposed I ought to get on and introduce myself. Tentatively I rapped on the brass knocker.

  When there was no reply I tried again.

  After knocking for the third time, with increasing impatience and force, I was about to turn around and head off into town when the front door was flung open with gusto and a man, broad and tall and clearly disgruntled at being disturbed, filled the threshold.

  ‘Yes?’ he barked.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, but…’

  ‘Look, if you’re selling something, I’m really not interested.’

  ‘Oh no no, I’m not selling anything. I’m looking for George Williamson.’

  ‘Yep.’

  Ah right. Suddenly this seemed like a very bad idea. This wasn’t how I’d pictured Mr George Williamson in my head at all. I’d imagined a man in his fifties or sixties with kindly eyes and a cardigan. Not an irascible, but undoubtedly good-looking man in his thirties, wearing cargo trousers, fitted T-shirt and mussed-up hair. Without a woolly in sight. I took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m Ellie Browne. This is my house, well my parents actually, but they’re abroad at the moment. I just wanted to check that you’ve settled in okay or see if there’s anything you might need. I’ve brought you a cake.’

  I thrust the round tin containing the homemade Victoria sponge into his hands. Homemade by Betty Masters at The Bluebell Tea Rooms, that was, and not by me, but it’s the thought that counts, although I was beginning to wish I’d never had this particular thought. George looked at the cake in his hands and then at me, looking ever so slightly non-plussed.

  ‘Thank you. That’s, um, kind.’

  ‘You’re very welcome. Have you settled in okay?’ I asked, looking over his shoulder, feeling a sudden protectiveness for our lovely family home. Only a few months ago I’d been living here, although to be honest it had always felt strange without mum and dad being around, and far too big for me rattling around on my own. When I took over the pub it made sense to move out and into the living quarters upstairs. It was no great hardship, as the extensive renovations Max had carried out just before Christmas meant that the kitchen and bathroom were all shiny and new, and all the bedrooms had been given a fresh lick of paint.

  ‘Yeah. Great,’ he said, his hand hovering on the door, as though he might slam it shut in my face at any moment.

  ‘If there’s anything you need to ask me about, like the appliances, then just let me know. The Aga can be temperamental at times, but it’s fine when you get used to it. There’s an instruction booklet in the top drawer of the dresser and—’

  ‘Don’t worry, I really don’t think I’ll be doing a lot of cooking.’

  ‘Ah, okay. And you should know that the power shower in the main bathroom can take a long time to warm up, but—’

  ‘The shower’s fine. In fact, everything’s fine.’ He pulled his lips tight in a smile. ‘It’s just that I’m rather busy.’ There was a pause, before he added. ‘Working. Sorry.’ And then, as if remembering his manners, ‘But this is lovely of you, thank you.’

  ‘Right then, well I’ll let you get back to your… work,’ I said, rather hoping that George might fill in the blank for me, but clearly not picking up on my questioning tone. ‘The offer’s there though, if there’s anything you need just shout. You’ll find me at the pub, The Dog and Duck. Just down the road.’

  ‘The pub? Well, I shall definitely pop in some time. When I’m less busy.’

  Okay, never let it be said that I couldn’t take a hint. I was clearly stopping this man from doing whatever it was he wanted to be doing. Still, at least I’d made the effort and extended the hand of friendship to the latest incomer to the village. What I had to remember was that not everyone was cut out for the friendly intimacy of village life. There’d been a time when I couldn’t wait to leave Little Leyton, to escape the cosy confines of a place where everybody knew your business. It had been refreshing to move away to the big city, to live and work in a place where no-one knew the first thing about me, a place where I could be anyone I wanted to be. Admittedly, I’d eventually grown disillusioned with the anonymity and lack of community spirit in London, but I realised village life wasn’t for everyone.

  I closed the wrought-iron gate of No 2. Ivy Lane Cottages behind me, my gaze lingering over the pretty house. Perhaps George Williamson didn’t want to be my new bes
t friend, I thought with a sigh. Disappointing, but I supposed I would have to forgive him that. As long as our new tenant paid his rent promptly and kept the house in good order, then that was all that mattered.

  Three

  On Friday, after a busy lunchtime shift, I was just scrubbing the hearth, doing my best Cinderella impression, when I heard a familiar voice fill the snug, sending a warm sensation flooding through my limbs.

  ‘What’s a man got to do to get a drink around here?’

  I turned and pushed myself up off the floor.

  ‘Max!’

  Even after all these months it still took me by surprise just how startlingly attractive he was, reminding me of the first time we’d met. It had blindsided me then. And every single time since. I walked into his open arms, that familiar one-sided smile on his lips that spoke directly to my insides.

  He cupped the back of my head with his hand and kissed me.

  ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said, tidying my hair behind my ears, feeling back-footed by the intensity of Max’s unexpected presence. Our date wasn't until this evening and I’d been so looking forward to it - when I’d had the chance to primp and prettify myself for the occasion. Now, I glimpsed down and wiped away the dust that had collected on my jeans. ‘Are you staying for a drink?’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Maybe a quick one. A gin and tonic?’

  ‘Sure.’ Round the other side of the bar, I fixed his drink and poured myself a glass of water, looking up to meet his gaze. ‘Are you busy then?’ Silly question, I knew when that was Max’s default mode. Even though his schedule was manic, he still managed to find the time to call or text me and just hearing his voice would lighten up my day, filling that gap until I could next see him again. Now he was here, without warning, and my poor heart, galloping in my chest, was still catching up with that fact.