Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow – or next week at the latest, because she knew the weekend would be busy – she was going to go for it. She’d show her writing to someone. She’d send it out into the world. She’d take a huge chance. Jo Campbell was finally going to stop being a big cowardy pants.
3
Working Girl
Paddy, the resident dog at The Ivy Inn, bounded across the room to Jo, his tail wagging so fiercely that his rear end couldn’t help but shake about with it. ‘How’re you doing, Paddy?’ Jo grinned, allowing him to jump up on her and put his paws on her chest. She couldn’t stop herself ruffling the fur around his neck and showering him with kisses.
Although technically he belonged to Noah, and he lived in the flat above the pub with his owner, Jo felt as much an ownership of Paddy as her foster brother did. She liked to tell herself that Paddy liked her more than Noah, and it wasn’t just because she kept some treats in her coat pocket ready to hand out whenever she greeted him.
A Border collie, who was never seen without his red bandana, Paddy had stolen her heart the day she had accompanied Noah to the animal rescue centre to pick him up. He was a smart dog who knew, with the right tilt of his head and plenty of hugs, he had Jo in his pocket.
The Inn wasn’t due to open for another fifteen minutes, so Jo allowed herself a few minutes to play a quick game of catch with Paddy in the beer garden, but as raised voices from the kitchen carried out of the open window, Jo realised she needed to get to work and give Erin the support she had promised her.
She led Paddy back through to the office, where she rewarded him with a treat before she hung her coat and bag up and slipped her apron around her waist.
She was just grabbing her order book and pen when she felt two heavy hands on her shoulders, which made her both swear loudly and jump, dropping her pen and book to the floor.
‘Sorry!’ Noah said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you’d have heard me coming.’
Jo turned to look at Noah, who couldn’t quite manage to hide the mirth in his voice or on his face.
She pushed him away playfully, before bending to retrieve the pen from where it had rolled under the desk. ‘You’re a bad shite, Noah,’ she said. ‘I bet you knew full well you were creeping up on me. Watch yourself or I’ll tell Mum on you!’
‘You’d grass me up?’ he asked, his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Please don’t.’
‘Then no more sneaking up on me.’ She winced as she stood up again, her injury from the previous night making itself known.
‘You okay?’ Noah asked.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Had a fight with a pair of shoes last night and my ass is worse off for it. I’ll live though, and we’ll be so busy today I won’t have time to think about it.’
‘Erin’s in fine form,’ he said with a grimace.
‘Leave her to me. I’ll calm her down and talk her round. It’s what I do best,’ she said.
‘No, it’s the thing you do second best. First place goes to being an easy target for my jump-scares.’
‘I’m just biding my time until I can get you back, Noah. Watch your back,’ Jo warned. ‘I can’t tell you when it will be, but it will be spectacular. Maybe I’ll jump out of the cake at your wedding.’
Noah smiled. ‘You’ll never get me, Jo. Accept it and move on.’
‘Whatever,’ she said, with a roll of her eyes. ‘You’ll see, Noah Simpson. Trust me. Now, work time.’
‘Yes, boss,’ he said.
‘Oh, and Noah, Mum says she’d appreciate a visit at some stage this weekend. She has a few wee jobs for you around the house since Dad is away.’
‘I’ll text her and tell her I’ll be round tomorrow,’ he said. ‘How is she anyway? And Clara?’
‘Clara is great, but our darling mum is hung-over this fine day.’
Noah smirked. ‘Is Mags to blame?’
‘Partly,’ Jo answered.
‘Yikes. I think I might call over today then. Bring some bacon sandwiches and get in the good books,’ Noah said.
‘Not until after the lunchtime rush. Which won’t happen if we don’t get those doors open and get Erin nice and calm.’
‘Anything Erin-related is your domain, as well you know. Good luck.’
‘She’s a pussycat really,’ Jo said, but she suspected she would have her work cut out for her.
It wasn’t long before those suspicions were confirmed. Erin was in full extreme-focus mode. Her face was red with exertion and Jo could see that Phil and the other kitchen staff were more than a little intimidated. Most of the time, Erin had the respect and friendship of her staff, but sometimes she pushed a little too hard and instead of making her staff work harder, she could make them feel demoralised. Keeping everyone happy when Erin was in one of those moods was hard going. And, of course, it was further complicated for Jo by their friendship and their flat-share.
‘Erin, how’s things?’ Jo said, plastering a smile on her face as if everything was completely normal.
‘Well, Jo, since you asked, I’m about ready to cancel today’s lunch menu as no one seems to be able to keep up with basic prep for tonight’s event while also cooking the same damn recipes they cook every lunchtime,’ Erin barked, her voice raised more than enough to make sure her staff heard every word.
Jo watched as each of the other three working in the kitchen kept their heads down as if afraid to so much as breathe. It was far from the working atmosphere Noah and she wanted for the pub, and for the most part The Ivy Inn was run with minimal friction. Both she and Noah had spent a lot of time making sure they had staff they could trust and who happened to be cool people to work with. Any niggles were dealt with as soon as they arose, and Jo wanted this niggle ironed out quickly.
‘Erin, your staff know what they’re doing. Trust them. And lunch service is over at half two, which gives you plenty of time to get everything sorted for tonight’s dinner. Did you get the vegan menu sorted with the high-maintenance happy couple?’
‘Of course I did,’ Erin sighed. ‘But it would all be much easier if people just listened to what I asked them to do!’
Jo took a deep breath. Erin was not making this easier for her. ‘Can I help out here for a bit? Noah won’t mind. I’ll work with you on some of the prep for tonight and the others can get on with lunch. Would that help?’ Jo would never claim to be gifted in the kitchen but she knew enough of her flatmate’s high standards to be able to chop veg and mix up a stock without too much instruction.
Erin huffed, blowing a stray strand of hair which had escaped from her chef’s hat away from her face. ‘No. I’m fine. We’re fine. They’ve done a lot.’
Jo raised her eyebrows.
‘They’re a good team,’ Erin said, and if Jo wasn’t mistaken, her friend was becoming a little emotional. ‘It’s just a bit stressful and, well…’
The kitchen staff looked up, as if they had emotional breakdown radars, and Jo was more than a little confused. Erin was lovely and loving, but when it came to work, she had a strict ‘show no weakness’ policy.