His sister spread her arms wide as she turned in a slow circle. ‘I love it here. I never feel quite myself anywhere else.’ There was a wistfulness to her voice.
‘Why don’t you come back? Martin must be able to find a decent job within a reasonable commuting distance. Heck, these days the kind of stuff he does can be done remotely.’
Her nose wrinkled in a little frown. ‘He’s doing really well at work, I don’t think he’d be keen to leave. Especially not when he’s being considered for a promotion.’
She didn’t look thrilled about the prospect, and he wondered why. A promotion would normally mean a pay rise… Before he could ask her about it, she spoke again. ‘Besides, what would I do here? There’s nothing for me locally.’
‘You could help me with the pub.’ It had been an instinctive response—The Siren was a part of her heritage as much as it was his. And she’d always loved the place. He could still recall her pride the first time their dad had let her work behind the bar. With her warm and welcoming personality, she’d be a huge asset to the place. It would also free him up to concentrate more on the restaurant. He’d been to see a local architect and plans were being drawn up ready for submission to the local council. Planning permission would take time, and he’d need it before he could approach potential investors for support.
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Eliza’s incredulous tone dragged him back from his daydreams.
‘Nope. I’m deadly serious.’ He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m not suggesting you drop everything and move back tomorrow, all I’m saying is that there are options here for you if you want them.’ She tucked her head against his shoulder and they began walking again. ‘I’ve been talking to Mum and Dad about converting the old skittle alley into a restaurant.’
Eliza stopped in her tracks to stare up at him, eyes wide with wonder. ‘Oh, Sam! Your own place at last?’
He nodded, knowing she understood what it meant to him.
‘What made you think of the skittle alley?’
‘It was Beth’s idea, actually. So, what do you reckon?’
Eliza’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘I think it’s perfect. The best of both worlds. Will you show me?’
‘Show you what?’ They’d been so busy talking, Sam hadn’t noticed Beth and Libby approaching.
‘Sam was just telling me about the restaurant he’s going to open right here in the bay!’ Eliza clapped her hands together.
Libby’s brows rose in surprise. ‘Here? Where?’
‘In the skittle alley beneath the pub.’ It was Beth who chipped in this time. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’
‘Can we see it? When are you planning on opening?’
Their enthusiasm was gratifying, if a little overwhelming. ‘Hold on a second! I haven’t even submitted the plans to the council yet.’
‘You have plans?’ Beth grabbed his arm. ‘Show us!’
Sam laughed. ‘All right, all right! I have some draft plans, there’s still some stuff to be finalised, but they should give you an idea.’ He herded the chattering trio towards the pub, the smile on his face growing by the moment. There was no hesitation from any of them that the restaurant would happen, and it strengthen his own belief.
His own place. There was still a long way to go, but he could do it. He would do it.
The walk on the beach, followed by an amazing hour poring over Sam’s plans for Subterranean had done them all the power of good. Filled with renewed enthusiasm for their own little makeover, they continued to make good progress with the painting.
Rolling another stripe of pale lilac onto the wall, Beth continued to turn over the issue sticking in her mind. From the conversation with Gina the previous night when she’d been ordering their pizza, and Libby and Eliza’s subsequent agreement, she would have to face up to the fact she wasn’t going to be able to just turn the sign on the front door and consider the emporium open.
The town was expecting a grand launch. Easter Sunday was just a few weeks away. Which meant she had a fortnight to plan everything if she intended to stick with the idea of being open in time for the first day of the school holidays. What could she do though? There’d have to be drinks of some description… Putting down the roller, she wiped her hands on the old T-shirt she was wearing and dug her phone out of her pocket. Maybe one of the big supermarket chains was having a deal on fizz. She said as much as she clicked open her internet browser.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Eliza agreed. ‘I can whip you up some canapes tomorrow—sausage rolls, a few vol-au-vents. Stuff you can stick in the freezer.’
Libby nodded. ‘I’ll make you a couple of sheet cakes. We can cut them up into bit sized pieces. I’ve got a couple of new recipes I want to try out, so your guests can be guinea pigs.’
Beth paused mid-scroll. ‘When did you become the new Mary Berry?’
Her friend blushed. ‘I don’t want to sell fish and bloody chips forever, you know. I’ve got plans.’
This was news. Beth squatted on her haunches and ducked her head to catch Libby’s eyes under the shield of her heavy fringe. ‘I’m listening, Libs. What plans?’
A shy grin crossed Libby’s face. ‘I want to turn the chippy into a tea-shop. Not now, of course, but once Dad retires.’
She tried to picture Libby with her ever-changing hair and grungy clothes standing behind a pristine white counter serving up delicate desserts and fancy pots of tea and coffee. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it did. ‘I think that sounds fab, really wonderful. You know I’ll help you in any way that I can.’
Eliza crouched down next to her. ‘Me too, but let’s get one grand opening sorted out before we start planning the next one.’
Libby reached out to squeeze both their hands, the little grin bursting into a huge smile. ‘Thanks, both, and Eliza’s right.’ She turned to Beth. ‘Didn’t you say something about a Facebook group where you got in touch with those local artists? Why don’t you post something in there and see if a few of them will come along? They can talk about the stuff they’re selling through you. I’d love to meet the woman who makes that jewellery.’
‘What a great idea, I’ll do it now.’ Beth clicked open the app on her phone. A slew of notifications hit her, and she began to browse through them on autopilot. She’d posted a picture of the empty wine bottles and pizza boxes earlier and there were lots of likes, smileys and joking replies. If she was honest, some of the responses were from practical strangers. Collecting friends on social media was like breathing, something you just did without thinking about it.
Libby knelt up to glance over her shoulder. ‘Did you add a page on there for the emporium, yet? It’d be a great way to garner some interest in the place. And you’ll need a Twitter account too.’
‘And Instagram,’ Eliza chipped in. ‘You could take some really lovely mood shots of things in the shop—like those gorgeous scarves I saw hanging from banana monkey.’
‘Oh, I know! We should make him his own account. That could be a right laugh, and people love a gimmick.’ Libby clapped her hands. ‘We could take him on a tour of the town, post photos of him on the beach with a bucket and spade, with a bag of chips in his hands, that kind of stuff.’
Their enthusiasm was catching, and