Let It Snow. Sue Moorcroft
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bar was almost ready for the six o’clock session and Isaac could hear the chefs clattering in the kitchen as Lily returned from stowing the vacuum cleaner. He was still getting to know the staff but already had Lily down as one of the easiest to deal with: punctual, reliable and with a sunny nature, though that hadn’t stopped her standing up for herself with her sister, judging from the snatches of spirited discussion he’d overheard.
He made a mental note to find a way of acknowledging her giving up her time unasked. Or unasked by him, he corrected himself. Apparently Janice, who he didn’t know well as she’d been preparing to leave for Switzerland when he’d arrived, had felt comfortable casually suggesting Lily give up her time. Almost two weeks he’d been here but he felt like the new boy at school putting on a show of fitting in, covering up how hard he was trying to process the ways his life had changed in a few short months.
He went to the safe to gather up an armload of coin bags as Vita rushed in, apologising breathlessly as she dragged off her coat. He reassured her and made an adjustment to her hours worked, then went into the bar he considered dated with its open fire and dark wheelback chairs, signed into the till and began to count in the float as he had on innumerable other occasions in other jobs, latterly at Juno Lounge.
‘The Juno’, where he’d been licensee and leaseholder, had been an edge-of-the-city pub in Peterborough that hadn’t closed on weekday afternoons as The Three Fishes did. Opening for breakfast, it had gone through until closing time with extensions at weekends for the busy function room. As it had once been a chapel he’d kept some of its original pews, adding sofas, an eclectic collection of dining chairs and oversized glass light fittings hanging from the Victorian cast-iron beams with their ornate tracery. Its style was quirky, semi-industrial chic.
Had been, he reminded himself, feeling the familiar swell of unhappiness that, through pure bad luck, Juno Lounge was no more. The furnishings and equipment had been auctioned off. The red-brick building was ornamented with the brewery’s ‘lease available’ sign and awaiting a new leaseholder when it could be reopened in a few months’ time to bring it back to life with chattering diners and laughing drinkers as it had been …
… before it failed.
It was no comfort that he hadn’t been at fault. Once a venue had no customers, it had no value. Juno Lounge had limped then staggered and, as a leaseholder, Isaac’s work had been cut out to wind it up fast enough to hang on to some of the money he’d made in the preceding six years.
He hadn’t hung on to Hayley but he wasn’t sure why he’d expected it. Hayley wasn’t into failure. Kindly but unequivocally she’d ended their relationship and he’d made no attempt to change her mind. When you were in trouble you saw people’s true colours and he hadn’t cared for hers.
She’d actually been the one to hear through the grapevine that a fill-in manager was needed at The Three Fishes and, apart from irritation that it had been her who found the temporary job for him and that it was at such a brass-and-beams pub, Isaac had been filled with relief. It was good to have money coming in and refreshing to be back in the countryside. His dad had been a tenant farmer and Isaac had loved his childhood spent on the fenland farm half an hour north of here between Cambridge and Spalding.
‘What do you think?’ The voice jolted him from his thoughts and back into the cosily traditional bar of The Three Fishes, where, he realised, Lily Cortez was on the other side of the counter smiling, palms upturned in a gesture that welcomed him to admire the fruits of her labour.
He closed the till and joined her to gaze at the strings of coloured lanterns looped jauntily along the beam above the bar, reflecting in every glass in the rack below. Tinsel spiralled around the thick wooden posts and the bar-top Christmas trees twinkled with a rainbow of baubles and lights. Santa ornaments dragged their toy sacks along wooden beams towards silver stars and golden bells and a thick swag of greenery twisted with tinsel festooned the mantelpiece above the open fire.
‘Great,’ he said. Last year, Juno Lounge had been artistically decorated with silver twigs and golden wire with red origami stars but that had been his place. This wasn’t. When you went in somewhere as relief manager you kept everything as the publican wanted. The homely decorations exactly suited The Three Fishes. He gave her a smile. ‘Very jolly and welcoming. Thanks for all your efforts.’ Her eyes were a clear blue, he noticed, like the reflection of the sky in a lake he’d once camped beside with Hayley in New Zealand – if you could count living in an upscale motorhome camping. Hayley liked the outdoor life only if she could also look after her nails, skin and hair.
Lily’s smile flashed, making those eyes sparkle. ‘It was fun.’
‘Thank your sister too,’ he remembered to tack on, though the sister had done little but give Lily a hard time about something, from what he’d heard. The alarm on his phone pinged to inform him it was six o’clock and he sent one last glance around the bar. ‘Perfect timing. I’ll open the doors.’
Lily and Vita were on duty with Isaac that evening. They worked together well, chatting to punters, drawing drinks, tapping orders into the now tinsel-bedecked till, smiling, moving around each other easily. Vita, large glasses glinting in the lights and brown hair in a poker-straight ponytail, had a few years on Lily who, he knew from her staff file, was thirty-six.
The bar was doing OK for a Thursday night, partly due to the darts team having a home match. Stools surrounded the dartboard area and the spectators cheered, groaned and exchanged banter. Isaac was returning to the bar after a foray to the beer cellar to check temperatures when he heard a male voice exclaim, ‘You gay girls get everywhere!’ followed by a cackle of laughter.
Turning, Isaac saw a red-faced late-thirties guy smirking at Lily, his over-bright eyes unfocused. Then, when he copped a freezing glance in return, he laughed. ‘C’mon, darlin’, it’s just a bit of fun.’
Coolly, Lily finished pulling a pint of bitter. ‘What’s funny? Lesbians in general? Or that I might be one?’
The red-faced man’s grin faded. ‘Don’t hop on your high horse. It’s only banter.’ He pronounced ‘banter’ as ‘ban-urr’.
Lily added the pint to the three already ranged on the bar before the man. ‘That’s £15.44, please.’ Unsmiling, she took his twenty-pound note.
Isaac watched the man ogling the curves beneath Lily’s black polo shirt as she tapped at the till. He could step in and suggest to the punter that he go easy on the bar staff or find somewhere else to drink but his rule was to allow his team to handle irksome customers themselves first. Unpleasant behaviour had occurred frequently at Juno Lounge but it was the first he’d witnessed at The Three Fishes.
The cluster around the dartboard cheered a good score as Lily dropped the change in the man’s hand as if reluctant to touch him. She turned to the next customer with a contrastingly warm smile. ‘Hiya, Gabe! How’s the menagerie?’
Gabe was an older man, easily recognisable by his silver ponytail and the smile that creased his face. Isaac already knew him as a regular with a smallholding that apparently provided a home for old and stray animals. ‘Eating me out of house and home,’ he complained with a broad grin that hinted he wasn’t really complaining. ‘Have you heard how Tubb is?’ Just about the whole village was worried about Tubb and shook their heads over how odd it was not to see him behind the bar at The Three Fishes.
While Lily chatted to him about Tubb apparently enjoying his sojourn in Switzerland, the red-faced customer gurned in her direction and – clutching the four pints – stumped back towards the zoo around the dartboard. Isaac watched as he said something to his cronies, leered at Lily and burst into a huge guffaw. His friends joined in the mirth.
Apart from a tinge of extra colour, Lily did nothing to acknowledge the guy acting like a dick.
Isaac decided to cover the dining area himself so neither Lily nor Vita had to run the gauntlet past the increasingly rowdy darts players. The red-faced guy soon became puce, his raucous laughter ringing around the room and grating on other customers, judging by how many were casting the oaf disenchanted looks before finishing up