‘The YouTube comments,’ Wilma chimes in. ‘People from all over the world playing along at home. It felt like we were part of something important, something that mattered as much to all of those people as it did to us.’
Bless them. Those 225 followers really did mean a lot to this village.
I glance up at the pub, where Reece says he’s working but it’s been so suspiciously quiet that I think he’s just waiting for it to get busier so he’s got an excuse to come down and help me. Ever since he told me the truth about Zach and his reasons for buying the pub, I’ve noticed how he reacts when the ladies mention their quiz nights – like he wants the ground to swallow him up. I know he’s struggling with guilt about it, and every one of their many, many mentions only serves to make it worse. ‘What made them so special?’
‘Oh, absolutely everything.’ Lettie’s eyes light up. ‘The questions were always good. A real challenge that made you feel clever for getting the answers right. And the format was just right – teams of four, multiple rounds on varied topics, plenty of time to chat between questions.’
‘And the prizes,’ Madge adds. ‘Nothing fancy, but everyone went home with something, even if it was just a tin of biscuits or a bottle of wine.’
‘I won a packet of Rich Tea once, it was quite the insult,’ Wilma says. ‘But the setting was perfect. That beautiful old room with the stone fireplace and the beamed ceiling. We’d sit beside the crackling fire in winter and take the quiz outside to the garden in summer.’
‘You’d have loved the team names, Dolly dear,’ Lettie continues. ‘Let’s see, we had The Thimblenouth Thinkers, Let’s Get Quizzical, The Red Hot Quizzy Peppers, Never Gonna Quiz You Up, and we went by The Agatha Quizties, didn’t we, ladies?’
Oh God, I was trying so hard to suppress my laughter, but The Agatha Quizties is my undoing and I let out such a howl that Wilma looks quite alarmed.
‘I wish I’d been here for that.’ I try to recover my composure, but I mean it. I’ve never been to a pub quiz before, and they make it sound a lot more interesting than I imagined.
I excuse myself and run back to the campervan when a lady goes up to the window to ask if there’s any of the Bakewell tart she had last week. There isn’t, but it gives me time to stand in the van and look out, watching the conversations happening at tables all around the car park, and thinking about community, connection and what Wilma just said about taking the quizzes outside in the summer…
And The Agatha Quizties. Some puns are too good to stay lost forever.
* * *
‘So, you own this big old building and you don’t know how to fixanyof it?’
Usually Reece comes down to the campervan every evening, but it’s been over a week now since he told me the truth, and tonight, I’ve finally persuaded him to give me the grand tour and I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t. I suddenly understand why he wants to spend as little time as possible in the Kingfisher Arms.
I’ve been in the kitchen and the old bar a few times, and lugged tables and chairs into a storage room at the back of the building, but the upstairs is a maze of small rooms and tiny landings and what was once the landlord’s private quarters.
‘Only as far as YouTube tutorials will get me.’
The whole place is a graveyard for overly ambitious renovation projects. I can see places where Reece has started stripping wallpaper, only to discover the wall underneath is in worse condition than he expected, and everywhere I look, there’s half-scraped walls and exposed patches of plaster that look like they might crumble at any moment, and telltale piles of plasterwork on the floor that suggest some have done exactly that.
‘It could be worse.’ I’m trying to be diplomatic, even though I’m wondering how anyone with no experience of building work could even consider tackling such an enormous project single-handedly. I can only imagine how overwhelmed he’s been feeling.
Half the electrics upstairs don’t work, and I know he still hasn’t been able to get the water working beyond the ground floor, but if those two big problems were fixed, I can see how it was a family home for the previous owners once, and it could be again.
‘And my optimism has clearly rubbed off on you,’ he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s easy to see how much this place is weighing on him, and letting me look around is a big step in admitting just how deeply he’s out of his depth.
He’s eager to get back downstairs where he’s made it liveable and less run-down, but I can’t resist the temptation to see exactly what he’s dealing with here. I see the half-ceiling that I heard him pull down weeks ago, but there’s something inspiring about his efforts too. New bathroom tiles stacked in a corner. New floorboards still in their polythene wrapping. Proof of someone who refuses to give up, no matter what setbacks there are.
We stop at a window overlooking the car park where my yellow van sits gleaming in the evening sunlight.
‘What are you going to do with it?’ I ask gently, because it doesn’t seem like he can go on like this.
‘I don’t know.’ He sighs and leans his elbows on my shoulders and his chin on my hair as we look out of the window. ‘I bought it with the intention of converting it into a family home, and I’ve stuck with that plan, even though it’s not realistic any more. It would be too big a house for one person, and it’s too big a job for me. I’m just trying to repair it, fix the things that need fixing, and then… sell it on, I suppose.’
‘Is that what you want?’ I ask, because his tone makes it sound like it’s thelastthing he wants.
‘I don’t know,’ he repeats.
‘Where would you go if you sold up?’ I can feel my heart rate quickening at the thought. Iloveit here, but it would be a really, really different place if Reece wasn’t here, and not in a good way. The thought of him leaving sets off a clenching feeling of panic inside me.
‘I don’t know that either,’ he says with a sigh and a half-laugh at how uncertain all these ‘I don’t knows’ sound. ‘I’ve loved this beautiful old building since I was young, and it deserves better. I don’t want to let the people of this village down, I don’t want to admit defeat and I don’t want to let the building itself down. If I sell now, the only people likely to be interested are developers, who’d do God-only-knows what to it, but would almost definitely knock it down. And I love it here. All the good memories of childhood, all in one place. After everything…’ He pushes out a breath that rustles my hair. ‘It was exactly what I needed when I desperately needed it. I love the village. I love saying hello to everyone I pass. Coming back here felt like coming home. I don’t want to lose that, but I’m living on my savings and I’ve got no income coming in. I’ve got some money set aside but it’s only enough to fix either half the roof or the entire electrics… which will get fried again if any more water comes leaking through the unfixed roof.’
‘You ever thought about running it as a pub?’
‘No.’ He pulls back and looks down at me in confusion. ‘What do I know about running a pub?’
