Page 45 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

‘Sorry folks, been a tough week, that’s all.’ Helen sniffed again, fumbling in her handbag for a hankie.

Paul passed across his clean napkin. ‘There you go, love.’

‘Thanks. Sorry, don’t know what’s got into me. It’s just the decree absolute came through … and I know I wanted him out and it’s all for the best, but it’s all so bloody final. And the kids are missing him – they don’t realise what a useless bastard he’s been most of the time – and I feel like it’s all my fault.’ She blew her nose.

Her friend, Sarah, wound an arm around her shoulders. ‘We’re all here for you, Hels, you just have to say the word.’

There were nods of agreement from around the table. ‘Yes, if there’s anything we can do.’

‘Of course.’

‘I know. And thanks. It’s nice just knowing that.’ She dabbed at her eyes.

Helen gathered herself, and nipped to the loo, whilst Louise got in another round of tea and cake to perk them all up. More bookish chat ensued, with a thumbs-up from the group for One Day, then the conversation rolled on.

‘So, how’s the pizza business going, Lucy?’ Louise asked.

‘Pretty good, getting a few more bookings coming in, which is great. I could just do with some help on the bigger events though. It’s too much by myself at times, I’m run ragged. And well, my first recruit looks like she’s ducked out already.’

‘Oh …’ Louise’s eyes trailed to young Abby. ‘Didn’t you say you were looking for a few more hours, Abs? We don’t always have quite have enough shifts to offer here, what with my sister helping out too.’

‘Hmm, when would it be?’ Abby’s eyes lit up. ‘I’m trying to save up for a skiing trip this winter. My mates are desperate to get something booked. But I’ll need the gear and everything, and I’ve just seen the prices of the ski passes … scary.’

Abby always came across as lovely serving in the café. This could work really well for Lucy. ‘Okay, well it’s mostly evenings, Fridays and Saturdays, oh and sometimes on a Saturday afternoon. It really depends what comes in.’

‘Well, evenings generally aren’t a problem. My shifts here end by five. And if I slotted into the Sunday shift for you here Lou, then maybe the odd Saturday …?’ The young girl raised her eyebrows, leadingly.

Louise winked. ‘I might be able to work it now and again, yes. As long as you don’t steal her away too much, Lucy.’

‘Well, that sounds brilliant. I’ll take your number, Abby, and we can have a proper chat about it all. But yes, I’d love to have you on board.’ Lucy couldn’t believe her luck.

After throwing around ideas for the next read, with Paul desperate for some Mills & Boon, Phyllis vying for another classic like Room with a View, and Helen demanding something as far away from romance as possible, they settled on The Beekeeper of Aleppo, a book which Lucy had heard a lot about and was more than happy to launch into. So, Book Club night ended on a high, with smiles and hugs of support for Helen, Lucy finding herself amongst a lovely and interesting group of new friends … and hopefully with a new assistant for the pizza horsebox. Things were looking up.

The Farmer Wants a Fiftieth!

Alan’s Birthday Bash

Come along for some Moo-ving and Grooving!

Pizza, Hog Roast, Cocktails and more

Saturday 26th June

8 ’til late.

Down on the farm at Morwick Steads

Chapter 25

A damp and drizzly Friday in late June had thankfully turned into a sun-kissed evening as Jack began setting up Ruby’s bar for a special 50th birthday celebration. His bar-with-a-view tonight looked out over gently rippling crops of still-green barley and lush grassy fields where cattle grazed languidly. Away in the far distance was a tantalising glimpse of slate-coloured sea.

Ruby’s allocated space in the farmyard was next to a large stone barn which had been emptied out and converted into a quirky party venue. There were square straw-bales set out to sit on, as well as various wooden chairs and tables, with bold sunflowers and ox-eye daisies pretty as a picture in milk jugs, hessian-style birthday bunting, and a ‘disco’ area set up in one corner of the barn.

Requests for Jack from tonight’s hosts were to stock up on plenty of real ale and prosecco, with a few quirky cocktails – including a Moo Moo (Irish Cream based) and the ever-popular Morpeth Mule. The party was going to be pretty big, with around a hundred and fifty people coming, so Jack had arrived extra early to give himself plenty of time to get organised.

The farmhouse, on the opposite side of the yard, was a fine-looking traditional Northumberland stone building. Outside its porch were bunches of colourful helium balloons with ‘50’ on, drifting on silver strings in the breeze. Sounds of mooing and baaing from the surrounding fields accompanied the clinking of Jack’s glasses as he set them out. There were also some whiffy countryside aromas, he noted, which would add an interesting, and perhaps rather too authentic, ambience to his farm-themed cocktails.

It was just over a week since the Darras Hall party, the last time Jack had seen Lucy, and now she was due to work the 50th birthday bash too. Jack felt a rising sense of anticipation. And when, just a few minutes later, he spotted the familiar grey-painted horsebox turning into the yard, he couldn’t help but feel a strange, hopeful lift in his heart.