Page 19 of The Village Inn of Secret Dream

Except Pete, of course. He actually had quite a substantial amount of savings built up over the years, in addition to the sale of his apartment in Singapore. He was planning to put his money into some kind of flat in London.

But later in the evening, the questions had begun. How long was he staying in Cranbridge? What was he going to do next? Was he going to help out in the shop?

He had tried his best to come up with some witty answers, but in the end he had had to excuse himself away from his mum’s sad expression. He had had a Zoom interview the previous day for a job in the financial heart of London which had gone really well. But he knew that his family were unhappy that he would be leaving again so soon. At least he was likely to remain in the same country this time.

Thankfully Mick’s home-made punch was deadening most of the pain. Pete had no idea what was in the stuff, but it was lethal and he was sure he would pay the price in the morning.

Heading out for some fresh air, he went past the bar and out into the back garden, where, to his relief, it was empty.

There were some well-worn wooden picnic benches and tables nearby, and to make sure he wasn’t seen from inside, he went and stood in the darkest corner. Thankfully, his Dracula costume would give him added protection from any more questioning.

Even in the semi-darkness, the garden was much larger than he remembered. It was as wide as the inn and then narrowed to a point at the far end. It was mainly lawn, with a white picket fence running alongside, beyond which he could hear the river trickling past.

He stood and looked at the night stars twinkling high above him and he realised that he had missed seeing the familiar constellations the past few years. It was only when he drew his head back and it swayed alarmingly that he realised how strong Mick’s punch really was.

The sound of the back door opening startled him and he backed even further into the corner by the brick shed, desperate to avoid any further questions from anyone.

He realised it was Belle and hesitated. For a moment he considered joining her, but then again, perhaps she just wanted some peace and quiet as well. Heaven knows she wouldn’t get much with her aunt and uncle in full party mode.

So he watched her for a while. She had lost her witch’s hat early on and now her long dark hair lay against her shoulders as she stood with her arms hugged around her. He couldn’t see her face and yet he knew she was distressed about something. Her shoulders were tense and even across the dark garden he instantly knew that she was upset.

He was just about to step out into the light to comfort her when the back door opened again. The brief shaft of light from inside showed that it was Amber who had followed her outside.

‘Hey,’ he heard Amber say. ‘I saw you sneak out here. Is everything okay?’

Expecting Belle to brush off any show of weakness as per usual, Pete was shocked when he saw her stricken face in the light as she turned to look at her friend.

Amber too was shocked. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said, rushing up to stand in front of her friend. ‘What is it?’

But Belle was having trouble speaking, Pete realised. And he could only watch as Amber took her friend into her arms. He saw Belle’s shoulder’s heaving and realised that she was actually crying. It shocked him to his core. This was Belle. He had never seen her so upset since they had first met all those years ago.

Amber lay her head on top of her friend’s for a moment. ‘It’s the sale of the inn, isn’t it?’ said Amber, softly. ‘Of course it is. How could it be anything else?’

Belle sniffed and finally stepped back from her friend’s embrace. ‘What am I going to do?’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Where am I going to go?’

Amber reached out to squeeze her shoulder. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But you know that we have a spare room. Once this place is sold, you can stay with us for as long as you want.’

‘I thought Pete was using the spare bedroom,’ said Belle, with a sniff.

Amber shook her head. ‘He’s looking for a new job and then he won’t be around much longer,’ she said.

Pete nodded in agreement with Amber’s wise words as he stood nearby in the darkness.

‘But then what?’ asked Belle, with what sounded like a sob. ‘This is my home.’

‘I know,’ said Amber. ‘But you can stay with us until you figure out what you want to do, if you don’t want to go with Mick and Angie.’

‘I’m happy here,’ said Belle.

‘I know that too.’ Amber reached out and put an arm around her friend. ‘Come back inside. It’s freezing out here. Come and have some of your uncle’s punch. That’ll numb your feelings.’

‘And my tongue,’ said Belle, with a small smile.

Pete watched as she brushed what he supposed were tears from her face before straightening up and pulling the door open.

He stood in the darkness for a while longer, his head fuzzy with both the dodgy punch and emotions that he didn’t recognise. As always, Belle’s pain was his pain. But how could he possibly help?

His head still reeling, he finally went back inside.