Pete laughed. ‘Christmas Might’ve Been? Ah, they’ll get used to me, even your mum.’
Ally fingered the beautiful bracelet. ‘Let’s go, I want to feel like a country girl.’
Six months later
‘Right,’ announced Pete, ‘are we nearly ready to open the doors? Champagne ready? Evelyn, food ready?’
‘Not a bother, Pete. It’s a restaurant opening, not the Grand National.’
Ally breathed a sigh of relief at Evelyn’s unflappable tone – nothing fazed her; she must have been doing some serious knitting this morning.
It was 10 p.m. and beginning to darken outside in the late June evening. A wash of magenta and green light was transforming the front of The Owl’s Nest – by day it was still the familiar little café, but it had been extended to include a late-night wine bar upstairs called The Night Owl’s Nest.
The interior had been redone without losing any of its cosiness, using green and purple as a theme, with shelf dividers between the tables filled with plants and books. Pete had held on to the Victorian bannisters, but he’d replaced the creaky stairs with glass on both floors, and the semi-derelict upstairs rooms had morphed into a stunning space, still featuring the bare stone walls and original wooden flooring – all looking out onto the square.
‘I can’t believe you got this together so fast, Pete.’ Dave shook his head. ‘It’s like a freaking fantasy world.’
‘But still keeping the good bits,’ said Fia, cradling a sleeping baby against her shoulder.
Ally stood beside Pete, in his Tom Ford suit and open-necked shirt, conscious of how handsome he was. Inside she felt a fizz of excitement, as though someone had dropped two Solpadeine in her tummy.
‘How’s the proprietress?’ he murmured, touching his lips lightly against her ear as he spoke and prompting a tremor to run through her.
‘Nervous,’ she whispered. Frankly, she’d run to the loo four times in the past hour.
‘You were born for this.’
She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the big mirrors and saw a stunning woman she barely recognised: long red dress that had cost half a month’s mortgage, hair pinned up in soft curls, dangly crystal earrings and, of course, her special bracelet.
God, she panicked for a moment, I look like one of those celeb women .?.?. Calm the feck down, she reminded herself, this is a costume, it’s a show. In the new Owl’s Nest, we’re giving people cosiness by day and fantasy by night.
‘This is crazy,’ she whispered. ‘I just hope it works .?.?.’
‘So do I, that’s the fun part.’
* * *
‘OK, crew,’ she heard Pete announce. ‘Buckle up. Music .?.?. go. Lights .?.?.’ The lights flashed on, the music pounded and the familiar café transformed before her eyes into a wonderland.
‘Holy shamoley, he really knows how to throw a party, your fella,’ hissed Rosemarie, in a dress featuring a lot of hot pink netting with matching Doc Martens.
‘I know .?.?. Wild, isn’t it? Normally, I wouldn’t even be let intoa do like this.’
‘And he wasn’t having any amateur-hour bouncers either .?.?. we offered. Apparently, we’re not scary enough,’ said Fergus good-naturedly, sporting a hot pink T-shirt under his jacket. Which just showed the transformative power of love.
‘That’s probably a good thing.’ Ally smiled.
‘So, are you still going to talk to me, now you’re a big hotshot nightclub lady?’
Rosemarie was being her usual brash self, but underneath, Ally could feel the uncertainty.
‘Are you kidding me? This is my job. I’m just the same big eejit, except in a fancy frock. By the time this is over, I’ll be firing these shoes at the wall and jumping into my trackies and slippers.’
Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tall grey-haired lady in a pale-blue frock standing at the door, glancing around anxiously.
‘Pete’s mum is here on her own. I’d better go .?.?. Chat later.’
Ally rushed to the entrance and gave the older lady a warm hug. ‘Kathleen, it’s great to see you.’
