‘The swim may not happen this year anyway,’ Belinda replied. ‘I’ve heard the Hetheringtons pulled out of funding it at the last minute as they’ve secured a sponsorship deal with the new auction mart. If someone else doesn’t come forward, then I’ve been reliably informed the town can’t afford to put the event on.’
Aria drained her glass and poured another in despair. Why the need for companies to get involved? Justin was another privileged alpha male who thought he ruled the world. She was thoroughly sick of them today.
18
Nic stomped up Poet’s Panorama, quickly discovering his new walking boots didn’t offer the hand-in-glove comfort the shop assistant had claimed they would. He’d parked with ease, remembering how difficult it had been to find a space in his gym car park over the spring. Reaching the top of the small hill, he headed down the other side, ready for a drink. The Plough was packed with people enjoying the quiz Aria had mentioned. A loudspeaker blared questions through the open window as he passed.
‘Number five. Name three types of cheese from Lancashire.’
Even their pub quiz questions were designed to put southerners at a disadvantage, he decided, noticing his builders sitting in the window together. Their foreheads were close as they consulted on the question. He felt a pain in his gut as he tried to imagine his own father calling him up for a beer and a night out. Giorgos was a Michelin star kind of man, and didn’t offer invitations to join him anywhere. Nic carried on down the street to a whitewashed pub and pushed open the door. It was cosy as they come and completely empty apart from the barman. He asked for half a bitter and stationed himself at the bar.
‘Quiet night?’
‘What?’
‘It’s quiet.’
‘Yep. All at the quiz.’
As the barman poured his drink, he tried again. ‘You from round here?’
‘Me? Hardly been out of the town.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
The barman shrugged, placing a glass of amber liquid on the bar. ‘I come from a long line of Cumbrian farmers. Never seen the need.’
Nic paid and settled back onto his bar stool, sipping his drink. ‘Would you say that’s your definition of a local? Someone who has never left?’
The man answered after a beat. ‘Not necessarily. Inglemere has always been a mix of new and old. Some of our offcomers have been around so long they’re part of the furniture. And this pub has been serving them for fifty years. Mind you, if things don’t pick up this summer, it might not be here to serve them by Christmas.’
Nic picked at a spare beer mat. ‘So, in your opinion I don’t have to be born here to fit in? I just have to stick around for a while?’
The guy shrugged. ‘If anything, this town needs more diversity and the only way to do that is to welcome people from different places.’
Thank the lord for an unbiased opinion! Nic spilled out a little of his recent history to the barman, ripping further into the shredded mat between sips of beer. They discussedideas about how to fund affordable housing along with the luxury developments, and ways a newbie could become a stalwart of the community. ‘I offered to sponsor the swim as I heard the previous company backed out recently, but no one got back to me about it. Perhaps it might be more prudent to sponsor the pub quiz, given how popular it is,’ Nic said.
‘Or find yourself a local lass and get them down the aisle,’ the barman joked. ‘Even better, have five sprogs that tie you to the town forever. We could do with more minis on a Sunday at the rugby field.’
‘Fine chance. The only people I’ve had any real contact with are incompetent builders and disagreeable neighbours.’
‘Ha, ha, welcome to my world. Did you see the building being renovated at the end of the high street? That’s mine. Or rather my parents have loaned it to me to start my own business. It was part of our farm, but we’re having to diversify. They’ve bought alpacas while I’m all about the ale with a new brewery and live music venue.’ The barman pointed to his glass. ‘Talking of beer would you like a refill? Sorry, I should have noticed you were empty. This isn’t my regular job. I’m helping out my mate, the landlord. He hasn’t been able to staff the place properly for weeks. Otherwise, I’d be down at the pub quiz myself. I’m Cal, by the way.’
Nic shook his head as he reluctantly gave back his glass. ‘It’s been nice to chat with you Cal, but I’m driving. And I need to get back to the books.’
The barman shrugged. ‘You know the saying…all work and no play…’
‘…makes Nic a rich prick?’
‘Well, Nic, you can throw some of your money at the rugby club, if you want. We need new shirts. And, if you’re using local builders, that’s a good start.’
Nic stood and tucked the bar stool under the counter. ‘I need a cleaner too. How would I go about hiring one?’
‘Look on the town Facebook page. Or you can always put an advert in Inglemere Stores. Off you go, then, and leave me to my romance with the fruit machine. Hopefully, I’ll win back everything I put in.’
***
Nic called in at the supermarket and asked the trainee manager if he could place an advert for a cleaner in the window. As he reached his car, Theo rang to say his date had left early, so he’d had the chance to do some projections. ‘She found out I had one leg and did a runner. I couldn’t catch her as walking is as much as I can do at the moment.’
