Page 11 of A Perfect Devon Pub
‘Wow, your life ...’ he said, his eyes widening. ‘Did you grow up on a vineyard?’
She laughed. ‘No, not many of those in Devon, but my parents loved fine wine. Every milestone was marked with a special bottle.’
Saying those words brought up an image of her parents and a dusty bottle of red wine. Fiona had been about twelve. She couldn’t recall what was being celebrated, nor what they had eaten, but she remembered the dining room table covered with a linen tablecloth and her mother polishing crystal wine glasses. All day, that wine bottle had been the focus. Her parents urged her to shower and dress up for dinner, then the family gathered around the bottle with the same reverence as pilgrims before a sacred shrine. Her father carefully removed the cork, sniffed it, then poured a small amount; he swirled, inspected, tasted, sighed with pleasure and passed a glass to her mother, who repeated the exercise.
‘Fi is old enough to try this,’ her mother said. ‘Give her a tiny glass.’
As her father poured, Fiona held her breath. She concentrated on the bottle, thrilled to be part of their celebration for the first time. He passed over the glass and she tossed it back like orange squash. Her tongue puckered and she fought to keep her face neutral. She had been expecting it to be sweet like the communion wine Aunt Ivy served at Brambleton Church on Sundays, but it was tangy and sharp. The flavours and their ability to please her parents intrigued Fiona, piquing her interest. Of course, she now knew the tanginess was from the tannins and had often wondered what that first wine she tasted had been, the one that had crystallized her journey into the wine world. Ru had never asked her that question. It was refreshing to meet someone less absorbed in their own passion. She smiled atJosh.
‘My parents loved fine wine and when I expressed an interest in the subject, they encouraged me to study it.’
‘I don’t know anything about wine.’ He sucked at his vape, letting out a sickly-sweet smelling mist; Fiona didn’t want to ask what was in that cloud of nasties. Josh’s vaping habit didn’t square with his surfing hobby. She wondered why he didn’t quit, maybe he lacked the will power? ‘If you teach me about wine, I could teach you to surf.’
She flipped her hair back, a genuine smile spreading across her face.She didn’t want to learn to surf, but it would be lovely to share her knowledge of wine with someone as enthusiastic as Josh. And it would take her mind off Ru. ‘I don’t mind teaching you about wine. But let’s take a raincheck on the surf lesson.’
Fiona wiped the last remnants of lunch service from the polished bar top. The windows were open, letting in the warm summer air which carried the gentle sound of waves lapping against the harbour wall and the distant laughter of children playing on the beach. The restaurant had settled into a lazy hum of conversation, punctuated by clinking glasses and an occasional burst of laughter. Fiona glanced up to see Rose approaching, her hands cradling a brown envelope.
‘You did a great job again this week, Fiona,’ Rose said, her south London accent reminding Fiona of the life she had left behind. ‘Here’s your monthly pay packet. It’s cash, but don’t worry, there’s a payslip in there. Everything is done properly through accountants.’
Accepting the envelope, Fiona felt a flutter of gratitude. It was more than just the money, although she needed that badly enough. It was acknowledgement of her hard work and the sense of belonging that Rose and the team offered her. She fumbled with the package, the crinkling texture rough againsther fingertips, and took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Rose,’ she replied, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. ‘I really appreciate it.’ The words felt inadequate.
As she opened the envelope carefully, the crisp notes inside felt foreign to her hands. She riffled through, counting the money. Far from the salary she had grown accustomed to in London, this would barely cover her direct debits. It would take her decades to pay off her debts at this rate. The realization settled over her like the shadow of a storm – the minimum wage was a harsh reality check. She needed to retake that exam as soon as the next date became available. She would register for email alerts from the CMS, the Court of Master Sommeliers, so she didn’t miss the opportunity
As she tucked the pay packet safely into her pocket, she closed her eyes for a moment, sensing a glimmer of hope. This seaside pub, with its cranky chef, enthusiastic Aussie KP, and fine wine list, might be the place where she could rebuild her life, one service at a time. This job was a lifeline, a chance to breathe and to regroup so she could pass that wretched exam.
Back in Ivy’s cottage, she counted out half her wages, folded the notes in half and tucked them under the kettle where her aunt would see them. She would pay the balance into her account. She bounded up the stairs and flopped onto the patchwork quilt with a wine book.
An hour later, the door opened. Ivy was waving the folded wad of notes.
‘What’s this?’
‘You’re lending me the money for my exam, so I want to pay my way,’ mumbled Fiona.
Ivy came closer. ‘Nonsense. It’s lovely to have you. When are you going up to London?’
She wasn’t. She couldn’t. London was her old life, one she tried every minute to forget – she was concentrating on building anew one. Her aunt sat on the edge of the bed, which squeaked as if it too was critical of Fiona’s actions. Ivy clasped her hands together in prayer. ‘I love you like a daughter, but I don’t love what you are doing to a fine man. You’re not being fair or kind, and you are both of those things. It’s been nearly a month since you had your tiff, and you haven’t spoken to him yet.’
Fiona screwed up her face. It was hardly just a lover’s tiff! ‘How do you know?’
Ivy pursed her lips. ‘Because Ihavespoken to him.’
Six
Fiona puffed out her chest. Had Ru called Ivy or was her aunt interfering?
‘You’ve blocked his number, haven’t you?’ said Ivy, ‘You’re behaving like a child. We’re talking about a grown man who asked you to marry him, not a teenager with a crush. Doesn’t he deserve an explanation? Rejection is painful, but it must be agony not knowing what you’ve done to deserve it.’
Briefly, Fiona closed her eyes, suppressing a memory of Ru’s face, wishing she could trace a finger over his jawline one last time. ‘Ru made a mistake. He chose someone who wasn’t good enough for him.’
‘What nonsense! Anyway, isn’t that for him to decide? Fiona, my love, even if you don’t talk to him as a lover, you must speak to him as a financial partner – you run a restaurant and own a flat together.’
Fiona cocked her head to one side. ‘Weusedto run a restaurant together. We don’t anymore. And we aren’t financial partners.’ Not after she’d failed her exams. To divert her aunt, she talked about the chaos in the pub kitchen. ‘Poor Josh takes a pasting from George’s temper, but he takes it in good spirit. Anyway, Rose’s mum is going to help out and they’re advertising for a junior so things should settle down.’
‘Don’t try and change the subject. When are you going to speak to Ru?’
‘I don’t need to. He’ll sort it. He’s good at everything. I mustconcentrate on getting into the CMS.’
‘Why? You know more than anyone could ever ask of you – why do you want to be able to recognize a wine in a blind tasting?’ Ivy stood, leaning over her niece, putting her arms either side of her on the pillow, and said, ‘Let me know when you’re up to talking this through sensibly.’
