Page 62 of The Village Inn of Secret Dream

‘Why did you never tell us?’ asked Amber.

Belle blushed and shook her head. ‘I never thought about it,’ she said.

Lucy held up a pretty summer dress. ‘You could totally wear this,’ she said.

But Belle shook her head. ‘You know me,’ she told them. ‘I’m happiest in my dark colours.’

Her friends looked at her but didn’t press the matter further.

Later on, when Belle went to bed, the clothes were still piled up where the girls had lovingly looked through them all. The colours were so beautiful, she thought, heading across to draw the curtains.

She glanced outside briefly at the trees in the street lights. As the world changed to rich oranges, fiery reds and earthy browns, maybe it was time for her to have a touch of colour as well.

But could she transform herself?

Belle reached out to stroke the brightly coloured silk, trying to imagine herself standing out in the colour. Then she snatched her hand away and began to place the clothes back in their protective bags.

34

‘So here’s the menus that I’m going to get printed up,’ said Pete. ‘They look good, don’t you think?’

Belle looked down at the printout that he had just handed her and stared at the words in disbelief. Those that she understood, that was.

‘Jus of what?’ she read out loud, peering at the piece of paper. ‘And what on earth is a daikon?’

‘It’s a radish,’ said Pete smoothly.

She looked up at him. ‘I’ll give you £5 if you didn’t have to google what that was when you first read this,’ she said.

He swiftly broke the eye contact. ‘It’s good to learn new stuff,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘Anyway, what do you think?’

Belle glanced once more at the menu. ‘Wild boar, langoustine,’ she read aloud. ‘Don’t you think that it’s a bit over the top for our little village?’

‘I thought we were trying to bring The Black Swan into the new century,’ he told her.

‘Yes, but it’s still in Cranbridge,’ she told him. ‘The inn hasn’t moved to Kensington in the last few hours, has it?’

‘There are some wealthy folk around here that would love to have some fine dining in the area,’ he said.

Belle looked at him. ‘And you really think they’re going to want to come here for it and not head into London for the weekend instead?’

‘Why not do both?’ he said with a smile. ‘We may even get some out-of-towners coming here to specifically sample our cuisine.’

Belle sighed. ‘It’s an inn,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level. ‘It doesn’t have fancy cuisine, it has atmosphere and roast dinners and a comfortable, warm vibe about the place.’

‘Actually we’re not planning on having any roast dinners on the menu,’ he told her.

Belle was shocked. ‘We’re not? I thought you were a businessman! How can we be an inn if we don’t serve Sunday roasts?’ she asked him.

Pete looked away again. ‘Andre says that he can’t cook them,’ he muttered.

‘Won’tcook them more like,’ said Belle. ‘He’s too busy stoking his own ego with his,’ she glanced at the menu, ‘lobster with jus grass, rather than a good old roast beef with Yorkshire puddings which would fill the place up as well as people’s stomachs.’

‘If we need to, we can always expand the menus,’ said Pete. ‘But for now I’m trusting Andre’s instinct. We have to try it out, don’t you agree?’

The trouble was, Belle didn’t agree. It was all so out of place and out of sync with the inn.

But some changes she had got used to and was almost enjoying. The bar and lounge were finally completed and looking so much better. The wall lamps had been upgraded to more modern fittings but still gave off a warm light. In addition, she had wrapped fairy lights around the oak beams to create a pretty effect, especially in the darker nights. The peeling wallpaper had been replaced by some soft green paint and the walls looked far crisper but still in keeping with the centuries old inn.