Page 6 of The Village Inn of Secret Dream

No, it was the thought of his late father that had continued to weigh him down ever since he had found out that his parents’ marriage was nothing but a lie.

Because Todd had left behind a huge secret that only Pete was burdened with. And he’d had to hold the secret close to him for the past three years to prevent his family from being hurt any further. The fact was that his parents’ happy marriage had been a fraud and yet his mother knew nothing about it. None of the family did.

Only Pete knew the truth. And it was the reason he had been running away from Cranbridge ever since he had found out.

Thankfully he had no plans to remain any longer in Cranbridge than strictly necessary. And that way, the secret could remain hidden. Forever, as far as he was concerned.

3

Belle stood at the bar and looked across the almost empty inn.

Business seemed even worse than usual that night even though it was early. A steady drizzle meant that the pretty garden outside next to the river was out of bounds that evening. Autumn was in a rush to arrive early.

The regulars, Frank and Stanley, were chatting in their usual position in the battered leather wing-backed chairs on either side of the fireplace. Frank and Stanley were two elderly pensioners who had lived in the village all of their lives. Frank was Lucy’s uncle and had run the local newspaper,The Cranbridge Times. Stanley had been the headmaster of the local school.

Most days, they were to be found on the veranda of the shop, enjoying their takeaway coffee and putting the world to rights. But one evening a week they would treat themselves to a pint in the inn. Belle didn’t mind that they made their drinks last for the whole evening. They were two amiable gentlemen and their company was both friendly and much-needed.

The inn had various regulars but they barely numbered double figures. And who could blame them, she wondered, as she looked across the main lounge.

It was quite a generous space with oak beams and a couple of lovely fireplaces, but the overall feeling was of shabbiness. She’d tried to fix the peeling wallpaper and polish the floorboards, but it mostly felt as if it were a losing battle. The furniture was all ancient, and not in a stately manor kind of way. A couple of leather chairs by the fireplace were saggy and uncomfortable, having long since collapsed under the weight of use.

Belle had tried to get her aunt and uncle to change the interior décor of the inn, but there was never any urge to change anything, as far as they were concerned.

‘The inn’s failing,’ Aunty Angie had told her. ‘A splash of paint isn’t going to change that.’

‘Besides, it’s a grade II listed building, innit?’ Uncle Mick had added. ‘It’ll cost us an arm and a leg to do anything.’

But in spite of all of that, it was a sixteenth-century village inn of historic local value. Surely that would be enough to keep it from being sold?

There was the sound of crashing from the cellar on the ground floor below. Uncle Mick was sorting out the last few barrels of beer. He hadn’t bought any more to replace the low stock. His heart wasn’t in it, he had confided in her, especially since agreeing to put the place up for sale.

Mick had been an inn landlord for almost forty years and he had declared more than once over the years that it was his perfect job. She wondered what on earth he and Aunty Angie would do with themselves if the inn was ever sold.

She looked up at the unexpected sound of the front door opening.

Dodgy Del walked in, nodding and saying ‘Good evening’ to Frank and Stanley as he walked cross to the bar.

Del, or Dodgy Del as everyone referred to him, was the local coach driver. He was around the same age as Josh and was always dreaming up ways to help the village and himself become more profitable, despite the somewhat dubious methods involved. But everyone knew he had a good heart, if you knew where to look.

‘Good evening, Del,’ Belle said, with a smile when he arrived in front of the bar.

‘Evening,’ replied Del, settling down on the stool on the other side of the bar. ‘Not finding much good in it today though, to be honest.’

‘Pint?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Please.’

Del was normally an upbeat guy, but he seemed particularly morose that evening.

‘What’s up?’ she asked, as she moved across to grab a pint glass from the shelf underneath the bar.

‘My bloomin’ family,’ said Del, with a heavy sigh.

‘All of them or just certain members?’ said Belle, pulling the handle on the beer pump to fill up the glass.

Del had a vast and extended family, of which there were first, second and third cousins who always seemed to be at war, normally because of some remark over the buffet at a wedding or a dispute over some silverware that had gone missing many years ago. But for all their arguments, Del’s family continued to meet at every holiday and event. Presumably for the only reason that there could be a new argument to keep the feuds going over the years still to come.

‘It’s my nephew, Brad. My sister’s eldest boy,’ said Del, making a face. ‘Just out of college and the kid’s not got any job or any prospects.’