‘Our busiest time, when we make the most money?’
‘Needs must. Can’t be helped, can it?’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to advertise for new kitchen staff?’
Sam shrugged nervously. ‘It’s not that simple, is it? We’re not on a bus route and attracting people to cover shifts out here is harder than you’d imagine.’
‘Especially if you don’t advertise,’ Kenny pointed out. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Sam?’
It really wasn’t up to him to break the news, was it? And if he told Kenny the truth, he wouldn’t put it past his chef to throw off his overalls and quit there and then, and he really couldn’t deal with that.
On the other hand, Kenny – and the rest of the staff – had the right to know that their future was in jeopardy. Hopefully, whoever they sold the pub to would keep them on, but you never knew. He had to admit, with terrible guilt, that he couldn’t even guarantee that whoever bought the pub wouldkeepit as a pub. They might turn it into a restaurant, or a guest house, or even a large private residence, if they had the money.
Who knew what The North Star would become?
His staff’s jobs could be in real danger.
They’re not my staff! They’re my dad’s! He should be the one dealing with this.
‘Anyone serving out here?’ came a shout from the bar, and Sam spun round, grateful to have an excuse to get out of the kitchen. Judging by Kenny’s expression, though, he knew he’d be facing some awkward questions at closing time.
‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling at the dark-haired man in an alarming bright blue Hawaiian shirt and orange Bermuda shorts, who looked as if he’d just arrived from the 1980s. ‘What can I get you?’
As he served the man and his partner their drinks – giving a silent prayer of thanks that they weren’t ordering food – he noticed a woman slip quietly through the door and wait silently a few feet away from the bar.
Handing the extra fromMagnum PIhis change, he gave the newcomer an encouraging smile. ‘What can I get for you?’
She was, he thought, in two minds about staying at all. She shuffled a bit closer and gave him an awkward look.
‘Er, just a lemonade please.’
Her voice was soft and hesitant. Sam nodded and smiled.
‘Coming right up.’
He took a glass from a shelf and was about to fill it with lemonade when she suddenly said, ‘No, wait! Can I…?’
He waited, wondering what she was thinking. He watched her trying to make a decision, before she straightened and put her hands on the bar, as if gaining strength from holding on to it.
‘Sod it,’ she said. ‘Can I have a vodka and Coke please?’
He raised an eyebrow, sensing that this was some act of rebellion from her.
‘Sure,’ he said, swapping the glass and trying not to wonder what was going on with her. He had a vague idea that he’d seen her before, but he wasn’t sure where. He didn’t think she was local, but he was pretty sure she’d visited Kelsea Sands at some point.
‘There you go,’ he said, almost reluctant to ask her for payment.
She paid with her mobile phone – which proved beyond doubt that she wasn’t local. He couldn’t think of a single person in this village who’d even realised paying by phone was a ‘thing’. Most of them were still trying to come to terms with debit cards.
Putting her phone back in her pocket, she smiled her thanks at him then carried the drink over to the nearest corner, where there was one free table. It was only big enough for two people and had been squashed in as an afterthought at the beginning of the season.
The woman gazed nervously around, seeming to shrink into her chair as she cradled the glass in her hand.
Sam served another four or five customers then glanced back over to see if she was still there. She was, and she’d barely touched her drink.
He frowned, trying to think where he’d seen her before. Maybe she’d been on the beach one day? He couldn’t remember her being in the pub. He would have noticed her, surely? Especially if she’d come in looking so alone and vulnerable the way she did right now…
Yes, that was what it was about her. Vulnerability. She looked quite fragile. She was thin and pale, with enormous grey eyes that scanned the room as if she was viewing the world without wanting to be a part of it.
