Chapter One
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‘I could see it hurt my sweet-hearted Pixie to think of telling you this, so I offered to break the news for her. We decided it was best to wait until the lunches were out of the way, so here we are, I’m afraid,’ Christos said to Tamara apologetically and draped his arm around her friend’s shoulder. ‘She’s been in bits since we had the confirmation from the brewery yesterday. The poor thing couldn’t sleep last night because she was so worried. I told her you would find something else and be fine, but she wouldn’t listen.’
‘You’re giving up the pub and I’ll be out of a job?’ Tamara bit back tears as she glanced around The Rusty Anchor’s pristine kitchen.
They had finished cleaning up after the Sunday-lunch crowd and had sent Rocky, the young chef, home. Usually this was when she and Pixie reheated their plates of leftovers and treated themselves to a glass of wine while old Jimmy Trevail worked the bar for a few hours. Not today.
This was devastating. Her income was precarious enough as it was, cobbled together from the part-time bar work, makingthe puddings they served in the pub and reselling bits and pieces online that she picked up at car-boot sales and flea markets. The effort to stretch her available money grew harder every month. If she was forced to dip into the savings she’d gradually squirrelled away over the last few years, her dream of one day opening her own café would surely be over.
‘Oh, lovey, that’s not what Christos said.’ Colour flared in Pixie’s cheeks. ‘Not really.’ Although she’d moved to the village about twelve years ago when she’d taken over the pub, her Welsh accent remained strong, and broadened even further when she was agitated.
The two women had worked together all that time and had become the best of friends, although physically they couldn’t be more different. Pixie was aptly named, and Tamara was her complete opposite.
Pixie was a little younger than Tamara so she still had another couple of years to go before she turned forty, but the long hours and commitment involved in running the pub had started to tell on her. Tamara certainly wouldn’t want to take it on herself.
Once, she’d asked Pixie if she might be interested in joining the fabulous Back of Beyond Book Club with six of their other friends. Pixie had laughed aloud at the idea that she might have time for such a thing.
Despite the fact they’d often idly discussed what Pixie might like to do instead of running a pub, this sudden announcement still came as a shock.
‘Why don’t we sit down a minute?’ Tamara pulled out a stool to perch on and Pixie followed suit. Christos remained by the door, silently watching them both.
‘I was dying to tell you when Christos asked me to marry him a few weeks ago, but he thought it was better to wait until we firmed up our plans. He wants us to move back to Santorini nearhis family. We’re thinking of opening a restaurant on the beach together,’ Pixie said.
‘Oh, wow.’Wasn’t Christos an estate agent with no experience in the hospitality business?
‘I know we’ve not been together long, but when you know, you know, right?’
It had only been about three months ago that Pixie had gone on a blind date with the movie-star-handsome Christos. In no time at all they’d become a bona fide couple, and Pixie had moved him into the small house she rented a little further along Church Street.
Next thing they’d known, Christos had whisked her off on holiday to Santorini to meet his family, and when Pixie had returned she’d talked non-stop about the beautiful island and its warm, friendly people. There was something about Christos that was a little too obviously handsome and charming for Tamara’s taste.
‘There’s still a couple of weeks left in October and I’m not giving up the lease until the new year. We’ve a busy Christmas to get through first. Our favourite time of year, right?’ Pixie’s voice wobbled.
Tamara gave a sad smile. They did indeed both love the festive season. ‘One last Spirit of Christmas dinner?’
‘Absolutely.’ Tears shimmered in Pixie’s eyes before she blinked them away. This would be the tenth year for that particular tradition. It had started when one of their recently widowed older customers was set to be alone on Christmas Day, and they’d realised there were others in the village who would be struggling too. Serving a full Christmas dinner at noon, free to anyone who wanted to come along, seemed to be just what was needed. Delaying their own Christmas celebrations until later in the day didn’t bother either of them — the reward was always worth it.
Tamara considered pointing out that falling in love with a place she’d visited on holiday for a fortnight was totally different to living there, just as dating a man for five minutes had no bearing on what sort of husband he’d make. But Pixie might — justifiably — ask what did she know? After all, Tamara hadn’t had a serious relationship with a man since her brief disastrous marriage, and still lived less than a quarter of a mile from where she was born.
To Tamara, the idea of chucking everything in to start over in a place where she didn’t even speak the language was terrifying. That’s perhaps what happened to a person who’d experienced the curveball of single motherhood at the vulnerable age of eighteen.
Not that it stopped Tamara from soaking up travel programmes on the telly and reading about the myriads of places she’d love to visit. But exploring the wider world outside Cornwall was simply part of a long list of unfulfilled dreams.
‘The brewery already has a couple lined up from upcountry somewhere. Liverpool, I think.’ Pixie touched Tamara’s hand. ‘The two of them plan to work the pub full time—’
‘So they won’t need me.’ Tamara didn’t believe in beating around the bush.
‘I don’t know...’ Pixie heaved a sigh. ‘But I’m guessing they might not.’
‘Don’t tell me, the new landlady is an expert cook, so they won’t need Rocky or my puddings either.’
‘The brewery said they’d run pubs before and won awards for their food. Doesn’t mean they did it themselves, though, of course. We’ll break the news to Rocky tomorrow. I couldn’t face telling him today as well as you.’ Pixie’s voice cracked and Tamara could see her friend was barely holding it together.
‘He’ll be gutted. Especially with the new baby.’ The hard-working young chef and his partner had recently had a little boy,and Tamara knew every penny was tight for them too. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t make you feel worse. I’m happy for you both and haven’t even said congratulations.’ She made herself smile at Christos. ‘I wish you both every happiness and I’m sure Santorini will be a damn sight warmer than Cornwall. I bet you won’t need to pack your wellies.’
