six weeks. We’ve got enough cash left over from the sale of the land to do most of the decorating. I want to restore to a high quality—the highest quality possible. I’m cleaning and reusing as much as I can, but if I’m going to turn the house into a wedding venue, then there’s things that I have to buy new.”
As he talked, he felt his confidence grow and unconsciously leaned forward in his seat, gesturing with his hands as he talked about his ideas for uniforms for staff, the name badges he’d seen online, the local restoration company who were going to reupholster some of the existing furniture for him.
Shenal nodded, listened attentively, and left questions until the end (without being asked).
“What would happen,” she asked, once Henry was done with his impromptu pitch, “if you didn’t get the money?”
He sat back. “I’d still open,” he said honestly. “I’d probably invest some of my own money into it and pay myself back out of any earnings. Things would probably end up coming from eBay instead of the craftspeople I want to use.”
“So it’s a question of quality.”
“Yes… and no. It’s about doing it properly and treating the house and the wider community with the respect I think both deserve.”
Shenal smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll run it past Nell, and we’ll probably get a better rate if we look online before going to the bank. But I can’t see a problem with what you’re suggesting.”
Henry resisted the urge to hug her. “Thanks, Shenal.”
She smiled. “Any time.”
Eight
D USK fell over the village as Henry walked down to the pub on a Friday evening, not really knowing why he was going there. Ryan had already left when Henry had arrived home earlier in the afternoon, and after wandering around the empty farmhouse for a few hours, he felt lonely. He’d been thinking about New York, not that this happened very often, and his nights out with friends. And he missed the vibrancy of being around people and alcohol and life and fun…. So he’d changed. And left.
And was now starting to regret that decision, just a little bit.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in the pub—he did—he was just nervous about walking into a room where everyone knew everyone else, and everyone knew who he was, and he didn’t know who any of them were.
The noise of another band spilled out of the pub as a couple of older women left, lifting their hands in greeting as they passed. He nodded, and smiled, and pushed his way through the crowd.
“Henry!”
Turning his head sharply, he sought out the person calling for him, quickly finding Ryan at the bar and sighing a little (internal) sigh of relief.
“All right, mate? What you drinking?”
“Gin,” Henry said quickly, adding “please” as more of an afterthought. Tonight was a gin night.
“No problem.”
Ryan leaned over the bar, which was unusually crowded, and found his sister serving at the end. When Henry gave him an inquisitive look, Ryan responded with a shrug and backed away from the queue to make his way around to where Stella was pouring a pint.
“Thank fuck,” Stella said as they approached.
To Henry’s eye, she looked more than slightly disheveled. Her hair was pulled back and secured with a pencil, but several curls were escaping. Her face was flushed and her eyes a little wild.
“What’s going on?” Ryan asked.
“Fucking hell,” Stella said, swapping the pint for a note and turning to the till. “Caz is off sick, and Danny’s in London for the weekend. I’ve tried calling Gina, but she’s not picking up, and Andy’s on his way in, but he needs to get Jack settled at his mum’s first. It’s just me and Jen on, but she started at lunchtime, so I need to let her go at eight, and we’re stacked. ”
“I can help,” Henry offered, surprising himself as well as Stella and Ryan. “Really,” he continued, surprising himself further, “I worked in a bar in Manhattan. I can
As he talked, he felt his confidence grow and unconsciously leaned forward in his seat, gesturing with his hands as he talked about his ideas for uniforms for staff, the name badges he’d seen online, the local restoration company who were going to reupholster some of the existing furniture for him.
Shenal nodded, listened attentively, and left questions until the end (without being asked).
“What would happen,” she asked, once Henry was done with his impromptu pitch, “if you didn’t get the money?”
He sat back. “I’d still open,” he said honestly. “I’d probably invest some of my own money into it and pay myself back out of any earnings. Things would probably end up coming from eBay instead of the craftspeople I want to use.”
“So it’s a question of quality.”
“Yes… and no. It’s about doing it properly and treating the house and the wider community with the respect I think both deserve.”
Shenal smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll run it past Nell, and we’ll probably get a better rate if we look online before going to the bank. But I can’t see a problem with what you’re suggesting.”
Henry resisted the urge to hug her. “Thanks, Shenal.”
She smiled. “Any time.”
Eight
D USK fell over the village as Henry walked down to the pub on a Friday evening, not really knowing why he was going there. Ryan had already left when Henry had arrived home earlier in the afternoon, and after wandering around the empty farmhouse for a few hours, he felt lonely. He’d been thinking about New York, not that this happened very often, and his nights out with friends. And he missed the vibrancy of being around people and alcohol and life and fun…. So he’d changed. And left.
And was now starting to regret that decision, just a little bit.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in the pub—he did—he was just nervous about walking into a room where everyone knew everyone else, and everyone knew who he was, and he didn’t know who any of them were.
The noise of another band spilled out of the pub as a couple of older women left, lifting their hands in greeting as they passed. He nodded, and smiled, and pushed his way through the crowd.
“Henry!”
Turning his head sharply, he sought out the person calling for him, quickly finding Ryan at the bar and sighing a little (internal) sigh of relief.
“All right, mate? What you drinking?”
“Gin,” Henry said quickly, adding “please” as more of an afterthought. Tonight was a gin night.
“No problem.”
Ryan leaned over the bar, which was unusually crowded, and found his sister serving at the end. When Henry gave him an inquisitive look, Ryan responded with a shrug and backed away from the queue to make his way around to where Stella was pouring a pint.
“Thank fuck,” Stella said as they approached.
To Henry’s eye, she looked more than slightly disheveled. Her hair was pulled back and secured with a pencil, but several curls were escaping. Her face was flushed and her eyes a little wild.
“What’s going on?” Ryan asked.
“Fucking hell,” Stella said, swapping the pint for a note and turning to the till. “Caz is off sick, and Danny’s in London for the weekend. I’ve tried calling Gina, but she’s not picking up, and Andy’s on his way in, but he needs to get Jack settled at his mum’s first. It’s just me and Jen on, but she started at lunchtime, so I need to let her go at eight, and we’re stacked. ”
“I can help,” Henry offered, surprising himself as well as Stella and Ryan. “Really,” he continued, surprising himself further, “I worked in a bar in Manhattan. I can
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