The Impulse Purchase, page 28
‘Oh my goodness. Winnie is going to go wild for this. Hey, Winnie!’
Winnie was coming out of the front of the pub. She sauntered over with her apron on and Maggie saw Mario appraising her, taking in her lean physique, her sharp bob, her tattoos.
‘This is Mario,’ said Maggie. ‘He supplies all our olive oil and tomatoes and – well, take a look.’
‘A whole Pecorino!’ Winnie put out her hand to stroke the pale orange globe lovingly. She looked up at Mario. ‘You import all this yourself?’
‘My own family put it on the truck in Rome and send it over.’
Maggie raised an eyebrow, not quite sure that Mario’s tale of provenance was authentic, but it made a good story and Winnie was entranced. Though more by the food than Mario. Mario, however, was hypnotised as Winnie went through the produce, prodding and sniffing and tasting, firing questions at him which he answered with his usual charm and aplomb.
‘You sure you don’t want to join my team for the quiz?’ Maggie asked him, teasingly.
He shook his head with a wry smile. ‘I know nothing about anything. Except maybe football?’ He shrugged to indicate his incompetence.
She laughed, but she felt slightly relieved. Mario and Russell at the same table would be more stress than she could handle.
‘I think Mario was quite taken with you,’ she said to Winnie, as they loaded all the produce into the fridge.
Winnie just laughed. ‘He’s not my type, I’m afraid.’
‘He’s a sweetheart underneath.’
‘I mean, not my type as in he’s a guy.’
‘Oh,’ said Maggie, blushing.
‘Never say never, though.’ Winnie heaved the Pecorino onto the work surface. ‘He is pretty hot. I could make an exception.’
She gave Maggie a wink.
Maggie cursed herself for being so naïve. But Winnie didn’t seem to bear a grudge, and she loved her even more for her feisty, can-do attitude and her passion for food. She made the kitchen an exciting place to be. She had no ego, just boundless energy and enthusiasm, and Maggie was pleased she had taken the risk on her. She just prayed Winnie wouldn’t get the urge to take off and travel too soon. Life in Rushbrook was pretty tame, and she suspected Winnie wanted adventure.
She and Chloe spent the afternoon assembling the grazing trays: two on each table of six, together with a bottle of Chianti and a bottle of Soave. Winnie had made fresh rosemary focaccia to rip up and dip into saucers of peppery olive oil, and tiny limoncello tiramisus for after the winner had been announced, to keep the contestants in the pub and stop them heading home straight away.
Maggie watched as Chloe cut up slices of cheese and spread them out carefully on waxed paper. She was really impressed with her work since they’d taken her on. She was conscientious and full of initiative, if a little shy still. She showed genuine interest in why things were done the way they were and asked lots of questions. She was mesmerised by Cherry, and watched, eagle-eyed, as she demonstrated how to arrange a tangle of flowers in a jug, snipping the stems and stripping back the foliage. Chloe copied her to the letter and before long you couldn’t tell which arrangement Cherry had done and which one Chloe had done.
She was interested in the food, too. Today, they tried everything Mario had brought before deciding how to lay it out. Chloe shut her eyes as she tasted. When Maggie asked her which cheese she liked best, she couldn’t decide.
‘I love the creaminess of that one,’ she pointed at the Taleggio. ‘But the blue one has more of a tang. Kind of a bite. And I love the crumbly hard one. I love the saltiness. I don’t know. I like them all.’
Chloe showed incredible promise. But Maggie was concerned about her. Some days she looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept, pale, with dark rings under her eyes. She never complained, and was never any less efficient, but there was an air of agitation to her like an electric current. Maggie had seen Chloe’s mother on the opening night, knocking back the wine as if her life depended on it.
She had asked Rose about it when she got back from walking her home.
‘Chloe says she gets overexcited sometimes and has a bit too much to drink.’ Rose made a face. ‘I don’t think she’s very happy, the mum. Something feels a bit off. I’ve told Chloe she can always talk to me.’
Today, as she spooned cannellini bean dip into earthenware bowls, Maggie wondered what Chloe’s home life was really like.
‘How’s your mum?’ she asked, casually.
Chloe looked up at her, startled. She looked trapped, as if she had no idea what to say.
‘Good,’ she said eventually. ‘She’s been at work all week so she’s probably knackered.’
‘She’s coming to the quiz tonight, though.’ Maggie had put her on the same table as Amanda and Theo.
‘What?’ Chloe looked up.
‘She came in and bought a ticket. She said she loves pub quizzes.’
Chloe was silent for a moment, slicing up a piece of salami with a sharp knife. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She’s really good at general knowledge. She always gets all the answers on Mastermind. We’ve told her she should go on it.’
Her hands were shaking slightly, and she wiped them on her apron as if they were sweaty.
‘Is everything OK, Chloe?’ Maggie asked.
Chloe nodded. ‘Is it all right for me to go home first, before the quiz? I need a shower and stuff.’
‘Of course. You can go now if you like. Just be back by six.’
‘You can’t come to the quiz, Mum.’ Chloe looked anguished. ‘Not after last week.’
She’d rushed back home to Kerslake Crescent and found her mother in her bedroom, sitting at the dressing table putting a face on.
‘I’m really looking forward to it.’ Nicole was looking calm and composed, fresh as a daisy in a Breton top over a chambray skirt. ‘And in case you’re worried, I haven’t had a drink all week. And I’m not having anything tonight.’
Chloe had to bite back a retort. She’d heard that promise before.
‘Chloe.’ Nicole turned on her stool and took Chloe’s hand. ‘I’m so proud of you, working there. I’m not going to show you up. And you know how much I love a pub quiz. I want to use my brain. I never get to use it any more. This will be the first time I’ve been challenged for months.’
‘We said we wouldn’t leave Pearl and Otis on their own again.’
‘They’ll be all right until ten o’clock. We’re only down the road. I’ll do the quiz and come straight home. It starts at half seven so it’ll be over by half nine at the latest.’
Chloe sighed. Pearl and Otis had been savage when they got home after the opening. Otis couldn’t resist tormenting his sister, and refused to let her play on the PS5 their dad had bought.
‘It’s for both of us!’ Pearl had insisted.
‘You can play on it tomorrow.’
‘I want to play on it now.’
‘You’re too young for this game.’
‘So are you!’
They had come to blows. Pearl had been catatonic on the lounge floor when they got back, worn out from hysterics, and had shown them a bite mark on her upper arm that Otis insisted she had done herself. It was impossible to tell who was telling the truth without involving forensics. Chloe had to let Pearl sleep with her to calm her down. She wasn’t going through that again.
‘Promise you’ll be home by ten. Because I have to stay and help clear up, so I might not be back until late.’
‘It’s a deal.’ Nicole put on a pale pink lip gloss and pressed her lips together. She stood up and held out her arms. ‘How do I look?’
‘Like the perfect mother,’ thought Chloe. All she could do was pray that Nicole would keep her promise.
45
At four o’clock, Clive arrived to make sure the sound system was up to snuff. He probably wasn’t much over forty, but he dressed like an old fogey, in his cords and a checked shirt with a bow tie and highly polished brogues. He laid out laminated sheets on each table. On them were photocopies of the celebrities, heads of state and historical figures the contestants had to identify for the first round.
‘Don’t let me see!’ said Maggie. ‘I don’t want to be accused of cheating.’
‘Quite right. Cheating is very much frowned upon,’ Clive said sternly. ‘I know some pub quizzes tolerate all kinds of skulduggery, but not on my watch. I might even have to ask you to turn off the wi-fi to make sure no one googles.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Maggie. ‘We’ll just have to trust them.’
Clive raised his eyebrows. ‘Never trust anyone, is my motto. And my say is the final say. I will not brook any argument. I’ve done my research and my answer is the answer. I hope you’ll back me on that.’
‘Of course,’ said Maggie, quailing a little at his sternness. But he was probably right to be strict.
‘Once people realise the terms of engagement,’ he assured her, ‘it’ll go swimmingly. You have to be stern from the outset.’
‘Have you got a tie-breaker? Just in case?’
‘I most certainly have. Now, I need to check the Bluetooth for the music round.’ He held up his phone. ‘It’s all on here. Classical, jazz, rock music. Everything from Elgar to ELO. You’ll need a very broad musical knowledge to get through this round.’
Maggie felt a momentary pang. That would be Frank’s forte. Frank had always loved a pub quiz.
‘What would you like to drink during the quiz?’ she asked.
‘Oh, just fizzy water. I’ve got to keep a clear head. I’ll have a restorative glass of vino when it’s all done.’
‘I’m very grateful to you for organising this.’
‘I love compiling a quiz. Don’t worry. This is as much fun as I ever have.’
Maggie could believe it. Funny old Clive. There were rumours he was minted, and his E-type Jag substantiated those rumours. Every village had its eccentrics. As long as he was happy to run the pub quiz, she was happy to have him. They were a great way of bonding the community and bringing people together to have fun. And tonight’s would be a showcase for the kind of food and atmosphere they were going to provide. Winnie had decided to make arancini stuffed with Taleggio at the last minute, and Maggie didn’t think she’d tasted anything quite so delicious in her life.
She double-checked all the table plans for the tenth time. On her table were the two Matts, whose general knowledge was pretty sound, and Dash and Tabitha, who she wanted to get to know better. And Russell, of course. She popped his name card casually next to hers.
Just before seven everyone began to trickle in and take their places. Maggie settled the two Matts and Dash and Tabitha at their table. They picked up the laminated sheet and began to peruse the faces.
‘Dot Cotton,’ said Tabitha, with certainty.
‘Catherine the Great,’ said the Reverend Matt, prodding her face with a meaty finger.
‘Lord Byron,’ said Dash, who had a touch of Byronic good looks himself. ‘Hello, Chloe.’ He smiled as Chloe brought their bottles of wine over to the table. Maybe Dash would have some intel on Chloe’s home life, thought Maggie. Not that she was spying, but she felt incredibly protective of her protégée.
Her eyes flickered towards the door every now and again. There was no sign of the sixth member of their team yet. What if he didn’t turn up? They’d muddle through, she supposed, but as the minute hand inched nearer to the start time, she became more anxious. She saw Nicole come in, and make her way over to Amanda and Theo’s table. She’d put them with another couple new to the village, Bryony and Max, and Cherry.
‘Just keep an eye on Chloe’s mum,’ she’d asked her. ‘I think she’s a bit of a loose cannon when she’s had a few.’
The tables were all filled. The wine was poured. Clive stood up to take the microphone.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Welcome to the inaugural Three Swans pub quiz. We are hoping to make this a weekly event, so any feedback would be gratefully and graciously received.’
Maggie sank into her seat next to the empty one with a sigh. He wasn’t coming. She understood why. Russell was knackered after a week on the farm and had chosen a quiet night in with a can of beer and the telly, over the ordeal of having to mix with people and use his brain.
And then the door opened and there he was. He strode through the pub to the seat beside Maggie, quite unselfconscious.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he murmured with a smile. ‘Pig pandemonium. Welcome to my world.’
46
They were into the third round. Foreign expressions. The second round had been the natural history of Rushbrook, a shoe-in for those born and bred in the village. The incomers realised they had to brush up on their wood pigeons, wagtails and sparrowhawks; their celandines and their clematis.
‘What,’ asked Clive, with a dramatic pause, ‘is the French term for love at first sight?’
Maggie instinctively turned to her neighbour to confer, then blushed to the roots of her hair when she found Russell had turned to her. They stared at each other for a moment, then shrugged. Neither of them knew. The Reverend Matt leaned forward and spoke quietly.
‘It’s coup de foudre,’ he said, and reached out to pat his husband’s shoulder with a smile. ‘I should know.’
‘How do you spell that?’ Maggie looked down at the answer sheet, still pink. Matt took the pen from her and wrote it down.
Coup de foudre, thought Maggie. Is that a thing? Could you really fall in love at first sight, without knowing anything about the other person?
Something was happening to her, she thought. She couldn’t take her eyes off Russell. His broad arms. That shaggy hair. The smile that was part shy, part supremely self-confident.
Lorraine in the shop had come into her own for once. Maggie usually avoided her gossip, but she had asked about him, as casually as she could.
‘He was a traffic cop, up north somewhere.’ Lorraine had waved a hand to indicate an area that could have been Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cumbria, Northumberland. ‘Married to the job, apparently. His wife left him. He doesn’t seem to have got over it. Bit of a recluse. Nice enough though. Why?’ She had looked at Maggie beadily. ‘Are you interested?’
‘Just curious,’ said Maggie. ‘We’re going to be stocking his meat.’
‘Well, he’s good to his pigs. No one can argue with that.’ Lorraine smiled. ‘And you know, I think he could scrub up quite well, if he made the effort.’
He certainly could, thought Maggie. He intrigued her. He seemed vulnerable, yet radiated strength. He was a mass of contradictions.
Perhaps divorce did a similar thing to grief, she thought. Chopped you up and put you back together differently, so you were never quite yourself again. You became tentative, risk-averse, yet also brave and indomitable. In some ways, she had never felt as strong as she did now – taking over at The Swan had been an incredible challenge. But in other ways, she felt as if she would never be the same. That she would never be the passionate, carefree, loving Maggie she had been with Frank. She felt as if she was driving around with the handbrake on, terrified to release it in case life ran away with her.
Maybe Russell felt the same? Maybe he had his handbrake on, afraid to be hurt? Maggie understood how it was easier, not to take risks.
But what if someone was worth the risk?
‘What,’ Clive was asking, ‘is the Latin term for in wine there is truth?’
The Reverend Matt sat up straight, for of course he knew the answer again, but he didn’t want to hog the answering and come across as a know-it-all. Luckily Tabitha pitched in.
‘In vino veritas,’ she said, picking up her wine glass with a grin, and Maggie scribbled it down.
Russell leant over to whisper to her. ‘I’ve been bloody useless so far.’
‘Don’t worry, your turn will come,’ Maggie whispered back. ‘No one knows everything. Except Reverend Matt but that’s why I chose him.’
‘I hope so. I feel like a dead weight.’
‘You’re not,’ Maggie reassured him, patting his arm. ‘Not at all. Wait for the music round – it’s up next.’
She could feel the hard muscles under the softness of his shirt. She took her hand away hastily and took a swig of her Soave. She saw the Reverend Matt looking at her and turned her head to look at Clive and listen attentively to the next question.
‘What is the German term for head over heels?’
At the end of the first four rounds, Clive announced a forty-five-minute interval for food.
This was easy, thought Nicole, as the rest of the table she was on disappeared off to get drinks and go to the bathroom. Not drinking was a doddle once you put your mind to it. She’d been nervous when she joined the table, but the two couples sitting with her were both new to the village, so she was able to share her local knowledge and tip them off about the best Indian takeaway in Honisham. And Cherry was very welcoming to her, telling her how much they adored Chloe and how well she was doing, which made her heart burst with pride. And the questions were easy. There wasn’t a single one she hadn’t been able to answer yet, and everyone seemed very impressed. It was wonderful to have a clear head and to use your brain. She smiled over at Chloe and lifted her glass of water, to show how good she was being. Chloe gave a grateful smile back as she began to hand out the grazing platters to each table.
Nicole’s eye fell on the open bottle of Soave on their table. Wine with food was almost essential. No, she thought. She had to keep sharp for the final round. They were definitely in the lead, and just one question could mean the difference between victory and failure.
‘So,’ said Amanda, sliding back into her seat having been to the loo. ‘Tell me about you.’
‘Oh,’ said Nicole. ‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘I can’t believe that. What do you do?’
Nicole chewed the side of her thumb. ‘Nothing really,’ she said, finally. ‘I’ve got a job doing some cleaning for the Safari Lodges. But apart from that . . .’
Amanda frowned.
‘But you’re super smart. Anyone can see that.’
