Page 4 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

The beautiful brown-eyed dog had looked up at Lucy from her kennel, and she knew there and then that Daisy just needed some love, a little TLC – Lucy knew that feeling well enough too. They had bonded instantly, and though Daisy could still be a diva at times, she was the best companion ever, and had helped Lucy through some emotionally tough times.

The evening rolled on in a hot and hectic whirl of topping pizzas, cooking pizzas, and serving pizzas. At times, Lucy felt very like the Muppet chef. There were some special requests, including a young man asking for Lucy to create a heart-shape from the pepperoni slices, to surprise his girlfriend, which was rather sweet of him and made Lucy smile. So, there was still some romance in the world, she mused – shame it had upped and buggered off rather spectacularly from her own life over eighteen months ago. She put that thought neatly aside.

It was nearing nine o’clock. They’d managed to serve everyone in the queue that had formed, and there seemed to be a bit of a lull. There was a genial buzz amongst the groups standing chatting outside, some guests drifted in and out from the house where there was music and dancing and laughter. ‘Umm, I’m just going to take a quick break, if that’s alright, Tamsin? Keep making up more bases, but just take orders for now. No need to touch the oven at all,’ she confirmed, ‘and keep an eye out that no-one else is going anywhere near it. Let anyone that might want pizza know we’ll be ready to serve again in about ten, fifteen minutes. Okay?’

‘Yeah, no problem,’ the young girl answered, reaching for her phone to no doubt pass the time.

As Lucy stepped down from the trailer, she couldn’t help but notice that the sandy-haired campervan guy across the way was making a big show, shaking a metal cocktail canister vigorously with his chest all puffed out. Crikey, did he think he was Tom Cruise or something? Like in that old film Cocktail she’d seen on Netflix a while back? She wasn’t quite sure why, but his manner irked her.

The barman then dramatically poured a frothy deep-brown liquid into two martini glasses with a flourish, garnishing them with a floating coffee bean. ‘Voila, madam. Your espresso martinis,’ she heard him gush.

‘Ooh, they look amazing. Thank you,’ replied the auburn-haired woman at the van’s hatch, likely fluttering her eyelashes.

‘The very same colour as your beautiful deep-brown eyes.’ Lucy was sure he’d slipped into a French accent then. Hah, he was as North-East as the rest of them here, with his Geordie-style lilt she’d heard earlier.

Cheesy or what.

She left the corny bar show behind and went for a brief toilet stop before letting Diva Daisy out for her own. The little dog was eager to get out of the truck and into her arms. Lucy stroked her soft short fur; it always felt soothing.

‘Hey, what a good girl you’ve been there, haven’t you. Shall we go for a little walk?’ Those dark eyes looked up at her lovingly, Daisy happy as always to be reunited with her owner. ‘Come on, then.’

Lucy clipped her lead onto her navy velvet collar and set her down on the ground. Daisy gave an excited bark. They could take a few minutes’ stroll in a quiet part of the gardens, Lucy decided; let her sniff the borders, and do what she needed.

The sun had gone down in a soft smoulder of peachy-greys, the garden now bathed in a magical half-light. The fairy lights Lucy had strung across the hatch of her vintage horsebox twinkled merrily. She had to admit, the mobile pizzeria looked really pretty, and she felt herself glow with pride. She’d give it her best shot, whatever it took. The party was in full swing, the sounds of laughter and the beat of the music getting louder now as the celebrations ramped up, drifting from the open windows of the big house.

Daisy was too busy taking in all the people and the hubbub around her to settle. She sniffed and scratched at a border or two, Lucy pulling her away before her digging got too obvious and left its mark, but unusually she didn’t seem to need a wee. Oh well, she’d had her chance. Lucy had better head back to the horsebox, give her hands a thorough wash, and get on with her pizza making, before her absence and the lack of fresh pizzas were noted by Abigail and the guests.

She and Daisy had to pass Mr Cocky Cocktail Man on the way back. Although she did have to admit his ruby-red VW, Jack’s Cocktail Campervan as the sign read, did look pretty impressive. And she supposed she may as well be friendly and say hello. After all, they might well be working at the same events together in the future.

He had just finished creating a gorgeous-looking lemony drink in a tall glass, which he passed to a rather glamorous forty-something lady, who thanked him with a beam of a smile and walked off.

‘Now that looks good,’ Lucy commented.

‘A Tom Collins. A lemon, gin and soda classic,’ the bartender replied with a smile.

‘Sounds good, too.’

‘Oh, I’d have made you one, but you’re the pizza lady, right? You’ll be driving later, won’t you? And they do tend to be quite strong.’

‘Yup, you got it. So, no cocktails for me tonight,’ she responded. He was staring at her … a little too intently. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. ‘Right, well anyway, I’d better get back to my pizza station and back to work, I suppose … Ah, I’m Lucy, by the way.’

‘Hi Lucy, I’m Jack. But that’s probably no surprise.’ He glanced down at the logo on his apron front, his eyes then crinkling with a smile as he extended a hand in greeting. She took it and felt its warmth, his firm grip. He flashed her a white-toothed grin. ‘Lovely to meet you.’ Was that a wink he’d just given her?

‘Hello, Jack,’ she replied, her voice a little clipped. Yep, he was a right charmer, just as she had thought.

It was then that Lucy looked down and realised what had been going on whilst they were chatting. Worryingly, the wooden corner of his A-frame chalkboard was looking decidedly ragged, chewed in fact. It then fell over with a clatter as Daisy nudged up against it, and then decided her call of nature was due, proceeding to walk and then pee all over the writing, smearing the lettering of the Classic Mojito and obliterating the Strawberry one and its little hand-drawn pictures altogether.

Oh god, Daisy no, what have you done!

Jack looked down just as the little dog was triumphantly moving off, kicking up the grassy dirt around her, spattering the board with that too.

‘Uh, did your dog just do what I think it did?’ The guy was gobsmacked, his smile frozen, and … he looked decidedly angry. ‘Jeez, look at my bloody sign. I spent ages writing that out. What the hell is it doing here anyway? I can’t imagine pizza-making and dogs go very well together!’

His sharp tone got Lucy’s back up, and even though Daisy had been rather naughty, it was just an unfortunate accident. ‘She is Daisy, and she’s been safely out of the way ’til now. It’s not the end of the bloody world. I’ll go and get some water and get the, er … wee off a bit.’ She wasn’t sure how she was going to disguise the gnawed edges, mind. ‘Or I’ll buy you a new one, if need be,’ she added, a little more conciliatory.

‘But my sign. Look, it’s bloody well ruined now. I haven’t got time to write it all out again. It was a work of art that, took me ages.’ He sounded well and truly miffed.

The sign did indeed have lovely swirly writing on – well, about half of it that was left readable now – with hand-drawn pictures of strawberries, limes and mint leaves, but honestly, this guy was making a mountain out of a molehill.