Page 30 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

‘Yeah, that rumbling noise, didn’t like to mention it. Thought you might have some wind issues.’

‘Shut up, you. It’s Daisy … snoring.’

‘’Course it is. Handy having a dog to blame, isn’t it?’ He raised his eyebrows cheekily.

She batted a hand out at him and her chair lost its grounding in the shifting sand, lurching perilously to one side … towards Jack. He reached out, stopping her seat from toppling over, his forearm muscles taut beside her. Then he pushed her back upright, as he burst out laughing. ‘See, that dog’s a bloody liability. Trouble wherever she goes.’

Lucy couldn’t help but giggle.

‘Well, you’ve soon downed that.’ Jack noted her near-empty glass. ‘Good job it wasn’t a real cocktail. Ready for another?’

‘Oh … well, I was thirsty. But …’

‘It’s fine, I’ll nip back up to Ruby, no problem. I might well fetch another beer for myself. There’s no rush to be anywhere particular this afternoon.’

Lucy realised she had nothing pressing on either. Maybe there was no harm in staying for one more. ‘Well, okay. Yes, thanks.’

‘Do you fancy a real cocktail this time? I take it you’re just walking home?’

Her head was in fact feeling a lot better. One drink would be rather nice. ‘Nope, not going anywhere today. So yeah, go on then.’

‘Any favourites? Gin-based, vodka, or a surprise?’

‘Nothing too sickly or sweet, but go on, you choose for me.’

‘A summer’s day beach drink. You’re on. I won’t be long.’

He stood up, swigging the last of his beer from his bottle. ‘I’ll bring some water for Devil Dog too. She’s looking a bit hot under there.’

Lucy looked at Jack, her head tilted, as if she was somehow looking at him anew. Perhaps he did actually have a sweet side to him, she thought. Here, he seemed different from the bravado-filled barman she’d witnessed at the events. Softer somehow, more thoughtful. More like the quieter man she’d glimpsed as they chatted before the Merry-Go-Round ride that night. Lucy sat looking out to sea, with the breeze caressing her skin. The warmth of the sun making her feel a little sleepy. It had evidently affected Daisy who was snoozing soundly, very soundly, with all the snoring going on from beneath her seat. Lucy felt very thankful to be living so near to all this, this gorgeous Northumberland coastline, and … for today’s company.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack appeared with a cocktail ‘glass’ in hand – in fact it was a tin mug. It was icy cold with condensation as he passed it over.

‘Managed to bag some ice from the village pub!’ he explained, ‘Brilliant!’

‘Ooh, what is it?’

‘Try it first – tell me what you taste.’

‘O-kay.’ She sniffed, it was fresh and fragrant. She took a slow and delicious sip. There was ginger and mint and a light fizz, lime. ‘Wow, it’s zingy and it’s good. Getting ginger, lime, minty flavours.’

‘Yep, you’ve got it. A Morpeth Mule … my take on a Moscow Mule, with mint from my mum and dad’s garden, and local Fentiman’s ginger beer. Didn’t make it too strong.’

It tasted strong enough to her! ‘Well, it certainly has a kick as it is. That is nice.’ She took another long sip. ‘Love it. Never tried anything like that before.’

‘Thought you might like it.’ He looked pleased with himself.

He also had another bottle of beer for himself, and raised it up in Lucy’s direction. ‘Cheers! Don’t worry, this one’s non-alcohol. I don’t drink and drive with Ruby.’

So, he wasn’t totally gung-ho then. She was glad to hear he had a cautious side.

They settled down into their sea-view seats, drinks to hand.

‘So, the other evening, you mentioned your Italian grandad … do you have some exotic Italian surname then?’

‘Papa, yes.’ She couldn’t help but smile, just saying his name. ‘And no, sorry to disappoint you, it’s a straightforward Brown. Lucy Brown. Papa was my mother’s father, – he was a Romano. Now that does sound very glamorous, doesn’t it.’

‘Lucy Romano … you could adopt it for your pizza venture. Gourmet Pizza by Lucy Romano!’ He put on a daft Italian accent, rolling the words over his tongue.