Page 7 of The Village Inn of Secret Dream

Belle made a sympathetic face as she placed the pint of beer on the counter between them. ‘It’s pretty tough out there job-wise at the moment,’ she told him.

‘Yeah. I mean, the lad’s got talent and deserved that catering diploma or whatever you call it,’ carried on Del. ‘I’ve tasted his burgers at the family barbeque and they were epic. Trouble is, nobody’s hiring. I just worry that he’s going to go down the wrong path with frustration or boredom, if you know what I mean.’

‘Has he tried the restaurants in Aldwych town? Or the cafés?’ suggested Belle.

Aldwych was ten miles away. It was a bustling market town which took a lot of Cranbridge’s custom.

Del nodded. ‘Tried them all. They’re not taking anyone else on.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Don’t suppose your Aunty Angie’s going to retire any time soon and let a real cook come in here?’

Belle smiled even though her heart was heavy. ‘I’m afraid not,’ she told him.

‘Shame,’ muttered Del, with a grimace.

Angie’s cooking was legendary and, unfortunately, not in a good way. Her food was almost always revolting and was normally soggy, dry or inedible. Sometimes all three at once.

Occasionally, an oblivious family would head into the inn and order a meal. But nobody made that mistake twice and the only repeat customers were the locals, who only ordered chips and pizza, with a follow-up order of indigestion tablets.

There was no point offering to help, as Belle had tried many times before. Aunty Angie had always assumed that everyone was happy with the food and nobody had ever been brave enough to tell her otherwise.

‘Anyway, as the inn’s likely to be going up for sale some time soon, maybe he’ll have a better chance of a catering job with whoever buys the place,’ said Belle.

Del looked up at her, eyes wide in shock. ‘Up for sale?’ he spluttered. ‘The Mucky Duck?’

It was the villagers’ nickname for the inn and suited it far more than the elegant Black Swan moniker.

‘We’re not exactly packed out in here every night, Del,’ Belle told him, gesturing with her hand around the almost empty room.

‘Yeah, I know, but you can’t sell,’ said Del, frowning. ‘Where would we all go in the evenings? I don’t want to have to get in my car to go anywhere so I can enjoy a proper drink and not worry about taxis and all that fuss. Besides, some of those fancy places in Aldwych charge an arm and a leg for a pint of beer.’

Belle shrugged her shoulders. ‘Yeah, I know,’ she said, with a heavy sigh. ‘But we’re just not making any profit.’

Del frowned, hard in thought. ‘What about one of them inns that the whole village owns? We could all pitch in.’ He broke into a grin. ‘I like the idea of pulling a pint for the punters.’

Belle shook her head. ‘I don’t think the village can afford to take on all of our debts,’ she said. ‘But you’re always welcome to help out behind the bar. Anyway, let’s change the subject. It’s too depressing to even think about.’

‘Where will you go?’ asked Del, suddenly looking across the bar at Belle with concern etched in his face.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ Belle told him, her heart aching at the thought of leaving.

Uncle Mick and Aunt Angie had tentatively talked about heading out to Spain to buy a far cheaper property and how they would buy a big enough place for the three of them.

Even so, Belle couldn’t imagine leaving Cranbridge, let alone the country. Her friends were here and they were part of her family.

Yes, she had learnt to be feisty and independent. She’d had to, otherwise she would have been drowned out by all the shouting, first from her parents and then from her aunt and uncle. But she needed her friends around her.

Del gave her a wink. ‘You know, my bed is a king size. Plenty of room for us both if you find yourself out on the streets.’

Belle laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m not sure how your girlfriend would feel about that.’

She knew Del was joking, but it highlighted just how empty her life was without the inn. Especially that evening when business seemed even quieter as their normal infrequent customers had all been in the previous night to see Josh’s proposal to Amber.

‘Well, thank you for another lovely evening,’ said Frank, coming to place the two empty pint glasses on the bar as Stanley shrugged on his raincoat.

‘I did nothing but pull a pint for each of you,’ Belle told him. ‘But, as always, you’ve been good company.’

‘Have you heard?’ said Del, turning to look at the elderly gentlemen. ‘The Mucky Duck’s going up for sale!’

Frank’s grey eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’ He looked at Belle in astonishment. ‘Well, I’m very sorry to hear that, my dear. Times are certainly tough out there at the moment.’