Page 2 of A Perfect Devon Pub
He smiled; it was the sort of cunning, assured smile that made her feel that he knew something she didn’t but, this time, she suspected his confidence was misplaced. If only she hadn’t persuaded Ru to change the concept of their second restaurant, to differentiate it by leading on wine expertise. If she’d messed up his future, she’d never forgive herself.
Using a finger, he tipped her head gently off his chest. ‘Don’t dwell on it, Fi,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll get another chance and the investors will understand.’ Then he kissed her, temporarily quenching all her thoughts of failure.
A voice called out from the stoves. ‘Good luck tomorrow, Chef!’
Ru turned to wave at his team. ‘Thanks! And guys ... thanks for everything tonight. You all did brilliantly. See you tomorrow.’
They slipped outside and walked hand in hand through the empty market, a warm summer breeze brushing against theirskin. The low hum of trucks collecting the day’s discarded rubbish and the clatter of bottles being emptied into metal bins replaced the usual noise of vendors and tourists.
‘I spoke to your aunt Ivy today,’ said Ru. ‘I thought we should get away this weekend, to celebrate.’
‘Don’t tempt fate,’ she scolded. Sometimes Fiona thought his confidence bordered on cocky. Nevertheless, she wanted to see Ivy, who had hung up her clerical collar a few months earlier and for once would have time to spend with her favourite niece. Her aunt had recently moved out of the rectory into a cottage, and it would be fun to see Ivy’s new home. The two women shared the same diminutive height and round freckled face, but that’s where the similarities ended. Unlike Fiona, Ivy didn’t give a fig for the trappings of success, and rarely worried about the future. She had been Fiona’s sanctuary when her parents’ cold silence echoed through her childhood home, her steady lighthouse through the stormy waters of adolescence, and a fount of wisdom through the maze of early adulthood. Perhaps Ivy’s presence would be the balm Fiona needed.
Ru squeezed her hand. ‘Hear me out. We both need a break. We haven’t had a holiday for over a year. The team can manage without us for a week. I’ve made a decision. We are going down to Devon to stay with Ivy for a week. I’ve hired a car, and we can drive down after Friday night’s service. It will be fun – walks on the beach, dips in the sea ...’
Listening to his enthusiasm, she warmed to his plans.
They walked in silence, the kind that settles between people who’ve known each other long enough to be comfortable with their own thoughts. The sounds of metal lids clanging shut and the rumble of engines faded behind them, leaving only the soft shuffling of their steps. A stray newspaper page tumbled across the ground, rustling against Fiona’s bare ankles, before skittering away into the shadows carrying yesterday’s headlinesinto tomorrow. Just being with Ru and Ivy for a week would recharge her batteries. Allow her to get yesterday in perspective.
She sighed. ‘What are we going to say to them tomorrow? You know ... about ...’
He grasped her hand. ‘Leave that one to me,pardner.’
His voice was so reassuringly firm that she felt the stirrings of hope. Maybe her failure wasn’t such a big problem after all.
Two
With her sandals in one hand and Ru’s warm fingers intertwined in the other, Fiona walked steadily along Brambleton Beach. The soft sand felt silky and warm between her toes, yielding gently beneath each step. Under the intense summer sun, the grains sparkled as if someone had scattered crushed glass along the shore, forming a glimmering path above the waterline.
It was Saturday, and the beach seemed to pulse with energy. Locals and tourists lounged in canvas beach chairs under colourful umbrellas, or sprawled on towels behind garishly striped windbreaks. Some read books while others slept. Near the water’s edge, children were building sandcastles, wet sand slipping through their fingers as they shaped towers and moats, their giggles drifting up over the steady rhythm of waves breaking on the sand.
The air carried a medley of scents: the salt-laden sea breeze, coconut scented sunscreen and the earthy tang of damp seaweed. Fiona smiled to herself. At least today, no one would ask her which wines those scents might evoke. She looked around at the kaleidoscope of relaxation and contentment. Swimsuit styles might have changed over the years, but the scene was reminiscent of Fiona’s childhood summer holiday walks on this very beach. She could almost hear the soft hum of Ivy’s favourite hymn, the one she used to sing under her breath when they strolled toward the ice cream hut, their usual destination.
It felt fitting, somehow, that her aunt had been the first to learn that the investors had agreed to back the new restaurant. Earlier that morning, Ru had delivered the news while whipping up a fluffy soufflé omelette in Ivy’s tiny cottage kitchen.
‘Well done, love!’ Ivy exclaimed, pulling Fiona into a warm embrace. Her arms were strong and reassuring, and Fiona couldn’t help but melt into them. ‘Hopefully that’s the last exam you ever have to put yourself through.’
Fiona hesitated before mumbling, ‘No. I didn’t pass.’
The words hung in the air for a moment as she glanced at her aunt, whose face softened instantly with a gentle smile of understanding.
‘Well, you tried your best, and that’s all anyone can do,’ Ivy said, her tone filled with quiet encouragement. ‘Besides, didn’t you tell me only 25 per cent of people pass that exam first time?’
Ivy said no more, and Fiona felt a rush of relief. Her aunt’s unspoken acceptance was as comforting as the summer sun streaming through the window. It reminded Fiona why this village – and this person – always felt like home. Still, she was disappointed in herself to have messed up the exam. She reallyhadtried her best, yet she’d still failed. Wasn’t that the worst possible outcome? Was it any surprise that a little worm of doubt had now wriggled into her mind, whispering that she simply wasn’t good enough? She shook the thought away and hitched her shoulder bag closer, drawing comfort from the sharp edges of the books inside. She would soon be studying again, and if she passed next time, life would get a whole lot better.
‘And the good news is,’ said Ru, sliding a perfect omelette onto a warm plate, ‘it doesn’t matter.’ Giving Fiona a pointed look, he put down the frying pan and bounded across the room, scooping her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and kissing her. He set her down, saying, ‘The investors are still stumping up the money for the second restaurant.’
That was a careful choice of words, Fiona thought.
At the kitchen table, Ru sliced the omelette. ‘Come on, let’s eat. Ivy has a meeting to get to, and,’ he said, excitement clear in his voice, ‘you and I have a date with a beach. Ivy, do me a favour and pass me that shoulder bag.Thatis not going with us.’
Ivy chuckled, and Fiona managed a smile. One day off wouldn’t matter. But she did need to knuckle down and retake that exam. She’d borrowed over £1000 from Ru to pay for her studies, and he’d paid for the exam fee too. She’d no idea how she was going to repay him for his poor investment, let alone fund the resit. Maybe Ivy would lend her the money? Once she was a member of the elite Court of Master Sommeliers with an equally lofty salary, repaying her debts would be simple.
Ru’s voice pulled her away from her worries and back to the warmth of the beach. ‘Happy?’ he asked.
She told herself it felt good to be on holiday, with the sun on her back and the man she adored beside her, not toiling in the fuggy heat of the cramped London restaurant. But she dodged his question.
‘Fancy an ice cream?’ she suggested.
