Page 13 of A Perfect Devon Pub
‘Brambleton’s a bit of a backwater for young chefs.’ said Rose.
‘We need someone who wants to surf like Josh don’t we ...’ said George, closing and locking his desk.
Watching the ele-dog take shape, Fiona didn’t interfere. There was no requirement for the subject to be a real animal. A long tail emerged, followed by multiple whiskers, each a similar length to the tail, making Fiona smile. ‘Slow progress, Rose?’
Rose wandered over. ‘Most of the applicants were straight outof school. Mum’s doing her best, but’ she dropped her tone to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘I would like Mr Grumpy back to normal. Love may be accepting your partner’s imperfections but there are moments ...’
Fiona laughed. ‘He is a bit stressed. Probably not sleeping well. How many years have you two been together?’
‘If you asked me before Mum started helping him, I’d have answered too long,’ quipped Rose. ‘How’s the homework going down there?’
‘Fine, and I’m enjoying myself too.’
Rose crouched to inspect the drawings. ‘They both look marvellous, darlings.’ She raised her head, winked at Fiona and pointed at her daughter’s picture mouthing, ‘What is that?’
Fiona giggled. ‘Don’t you recognize an ele-dog when you see one?’
Not attempting to keep a straight face, Fiona explained what Becky was drawing,
‘I see,’ murmured Rose, stifling a laugh. ‘How are you coping? Were you and your ex together long?’
Fiona suppressed a vision of Ru. She could almost feel his arms around her. She gulped away the memory. ‘Three years.’
‘That’s a long time. George and I have been together about ten years. Not all plain sailing, I can tell you.’
‘And your glue?’
Rose shrugged. ‘Mutual respect?’
Fiona smiled inwardly. Mutual respect required equality between partners. Though painful, Fiona had made the right decision.
On her way to the pub for that evening’s shift, Fiona noticed the sun beginning its leisurely descent over the village, washing the pavements in a soft amber shimmer. Passing her on their way back up from the beach, holidaymakers dawdled, their facesbronzed, a few tinged a painful-looking pink. She would treat herself to a holiday once she was qualified; the upside of having no social life was that studying had become second nature.
As the last of the evening diners finished their meals, Fiona stacked the empty wine bottles on the bar with practised precision, glancing up occasionally to see if anyone needed her attention. She caught sight of Josh hovering nearby, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. She suppressed an eye roll as he leaned casually against the counter, his apron slung low on his hips.
‘Oi, Fiona!’ he called out, loud enough to turn heads. His grin widened as he noticed Rose watching.
She turned toward him, one eyebrow raised. ‘Yes, what is it?’
‘That wine lesson you mentioned,’ he drawled, running a hand through his messy, dark hair. ‘Between you and me,’ – he winked – ‘the way you lot handle your wines here in Europe is a bit rough. No offence, but back home in the Barossa Valley, we’ve got standards.’
Fiona chuckled despite herself. She could begin with the basics – what wine was and the broad categories – then move on to grape varieties. That wouldn’t take much planning.
‘Let’s meet in the staffroom tomorrow,’ she suggested. ‘Thirty minutes before work. We’ll see if your knowledge matches your confidence.’
‘Beauty!’ Josh pushed off from the counter with a theatrical flourish. ‘Fair warning though – I’m a quick study. Might end up giving you a run for your money.’
Later, as she strolled back up the hill through the quiet village, she breathed in the evening’s stillness. The cool air brushed gently against her cheeks. Each window she passed seemed to hold a small, silent world. Fiona smiled; for the first time in ages, she was looking forward to tomorrow.
The following evening, already dressed for evening service, Fiona and Josh sat side by side in the staffroom, which was small, hot and stuffy from the sun streaming through the windows all day. Her pupil had brought a notepad and pen, and there was a sparkle in his eyes.
Fiona got up, fanning herself with a hand. ‘Let’s open a window before we both doze off in this heat.’
With a breeze circulating, she pulled out her notes, feeling the same ripple of nerves she always got before a blind tasting. Josh’s face, shining with anticipation, was unnerving. She hoped she would live up to his expectations.
Josh sprawled in his chair, with a notepad balanced on one knee, twirling his pen between his fingers. His eyes never left her face.
‘Wine is a world of endless flavours and styles, but at its heart, it’s fermented grape juice. There are five main types of wine: red, white, rosé, sparkling and dessert, which some people refer to as pudding wine or sweet wine ...’
