“Another one of the Andersen kids didn’t show up for his shift. I’m short-handed again, and then all my taps went off. Now I’ve fixed it, but I’ve had to leave a half-full bar up there on a promise not to rob the place or drink it dry. I know you’ve got matters of corporate global dominance or whatever, but this is part of your local business, and I’m no’ a miracle worker.”
Time to take one for the team and boost staff morale a little.
“Right, shall I go and see to the bar while you clean yourself up?” Susannah offered. “Don’t know how you get beer out of polyester, but you can always burn that top and start again.”
“You should know it doesn’t burn. I had a ruder phrase in mind there, but I am in the presence of a lady. Allegedly.” With that, Babs flounced off towards the staff kitchen.
That left Susannah to go and face the thirsty hordes. To her surprise, there was no looting of the spirits bottles when she pushed through the swing doors to get behind the bar. Instead a few locals were in clusters at tables and booths around the place, drinks in front of them and making the usual amount of noise. The jukebox wasn’t on, but the sports news played on an endless silent loop on the televisions that usually showed live football and rugby, unless the cricket fans came in and kicked up a fuss.
As soon as they saw her, the room fell silent like a saloon in an old-fashioned Western. Susannah rested her hands on her hips, defiant, and stared back at them in turn.
“Free drinks, then is it?” someone called out from the far corner. “Better stick to the bottled stuff, your Ladyship.” Laughter rippled across the room, but Susannah stood her ground until one of the local farmers approached with a sheepish request for a bottle of red wine.
She turned her back on the room with its rich, dark wood panelling and its red velvet-covered seats, some more worn than others. The scent of polish lingered faintly even with a crowd drinking and snacking. The beer taps gleamed, brassy and bold, as they broke up the long, curved line of the bar that took up a whole corner of the space.
Once she handed over the wine and took the offered cash, Susannah’s shoulders dropped an inch or so. Her hands stopped clenching and unclenching in search of something to occupy them. There was no real crisis to solve here; she was simply holding the fort.
They came forward in a trickle then, and a few new customers did quick double takes as they entered and saw her behind the bar. Susannah slipped her blazer off and put it over a handy stool, the better to move around.
Despite her natural tendency for drama, Babs ran a tight ship. Everything was easy to find. The prices were already programmed into the till. Save for a bit of mental arithmetic that had Susannah reaching for her phone calculator, the job was almost proving a good fit. Perhaps she’d have made a decent barmaid in another life that hadn’t sent her to Marlborough College and scraping a third-class degree at Durham.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. “Hiya, can I—” The voice trailed off, uncertain.
She turned. Well, apparently the sight of Susannah behind the bar was enough to render the new vet temporarily speechless. It looked good on her. “Yes?”
“Well, uh… Sorry, are you really serving drinks?” Tess asked. “Or is this some strange local prank I’m not getting?”
Susannah gestured with both hands to emphasise where she was standing. “Well, I’d hardly be back here unless I were. Or did you think my pub had gone self-service? By all means, just come back and help yourself.”
“No thanks, but I think I’ll wait for Babs. I like my drinks poured properly. A real pint, none of that bottled stuff.”
Well, that was just rude. Never one to back down, Susannah pulled a fresh glass from the selection by the pumps and held it up to the light for a second. Spotless. Good. “Let me guess: you’re the weak lager type? Maybe a shandy, ease you in gently?”
“Two pints of best, actually. And an orange juice.”
Susannah glanced past Tess, seeing the other two vets camped out at the table by the unlit fireplace. She swapped the tall lager glass for the stubbier ale one, remembering that much from when she’d ordered drinks for Jimmy. The trick, she was fairly sure, was to hold the glass upright with the nozzle pressed against the bottom. None of that pouring on an angle for ale. The pump was stiff, but Susannah hadn’t spent as many hours in the gym and steering obstinate horses to fail on upper-body strength. She didn’t realise her arm was flexing until she caught Tess watching. They shared a brief moment of eye contact, and then they both looked away.
Interesting.
“I can take it from here,” Babs said, emerging in a new top as Susannah set the first pint on the bar. “Not bad, Boss. You might just be a natural.”
“You get the orange juice.” Susannah reached for a glass for the second pint. “I’m getting the hang of this.”
“Didn’t know this place was part of your, y’know…” Tess gestured with a nod.
“Estate?”
“I was going for ‘empire,’ but sure. You don’t charge extra when you don’t like someone’s driving, do you?”
It was a weak attempt at breaking the ice. Susannah didn’t feel like indulging it. She’d had a big win, money secured for turning Midsummer into something meaningful. Maybe that was reason enough to go easy on the new girl, but Susannah suspected any moment of weakness would only be thrown back in her face later.
She was hardly the most beloved of landowners, despite her best efforts over the years, and it wasn’t as though that would be any different with Tess. Winning hearts and minds could be left to the PR firm Susannah would have to
