In these difficult times, we probably need an escape from real life more than ever before. So, I'm offering a little diversion for a while.

As a quick update, The Winter Moon is still in progress and nearing readiness - but it's caused me a few headaches and rethinks, so I'm not happy to publish until it's the way I'd like it to be. I think I probably needed a little diversion of my own as well, so this story is serving two purposes.

Anyway, it's intended to be a bit of light-hearted fun, so I hope you'll enjoy it.

The Magpie Summer Copyright © Tish Elham 2020

One

for sorrow…

She was out of her mind. There were no two ways about it. She must have completely taken leave of her senses to consider doing anything other than walking away. Twenty-eight years of life experience was enough to tell her she should think again. And yet, despite every warning bell ringing in her head, the multitude of whispering voices wheedling at her that something too good to be true was just that, she couldn't quite bring herself to utter the final words of rejection. Maybe, she could make something of this situation. That was the best word for it. Whether it was an opportunity, only time would tell.

"All right. I agree."

Walter Collins of Collins, Mills and Parker Solicitors, appeared relieved. Liesel had the impression he might have whipped out a spotted handkerchief to wipe his brow, had one been peeping out of the breast pocket of his dark, grey suit.

"That's splendid, Miss Bennet. If you'd like to sign…just here."

He fumbled with the document and indicated a space on the last page, handing her a fountain pen. She provided her signature, the unfamiliar scratching of the nib on the paper akin to etching her name in stone, before passing the document back to him. He checked that the ink was dry before opening his briefcase and placing it inside.

"Do you have any further questions?"

She considered asking him whether she had done the right thing, but how could he know? She sensed that he was eager to leave. He had surreptitiously checked his watch a couple of times.

"Thank you for your help, Mr Collins."

"Please, call me Walter. After all, we'll be having a lot of contact over the next couple of years."

The ingratiating smile which accompanied this remark was slightly unnerving, but he was right. It would be his responsibility to check that all was in order and to make the final decision.

"Just one question, Miss Bennet, if I may? Was it always your ambition to run an establishment like this?"

Liesel shook her head. "No, it wasn't. If you'd asked me three months ago what I wanted to do, I wouldn't have had any idea at all apart from finding a better job." She could have added "and one without an arsehole of a boss," but she curbed the urge to be totally honest. She recognised the need to develop a good rapport with Walter Collins, but it was too soon for total frankness and something about his manner made her wary of offering any more than was necessary.

"Well, this must have come as a delightful surprise," he remarked.

Liesel glanced to her right and caught the expression on Flora's face. She was barely masking her amusement. Her friend knew better, but it was Flora's fault that she was here at all.

After one particularly rotten Friday at the end of a dreary week, Liesel and Flora had met at a local bar after work and stayed late into the night. They had shared their gripes and commiserated with each other about their respective careers, irritating colleagues and stupid managers. Flora generally enjoyed her work, but she could tell Liesel was more annoyed than usual and had no wish to congratulate herself on being more fortunate. Liesel had told her friend in a moment of drunken honesty, that she'd give anything to change her life and stick two fingers up to the manager who had passed her over for promotion in favour of a graduate trainee with eighteen months' experience. She hadn't recalled the conversation until the birthday card had arrived a week later, complete with Flora's idea of a joke present.

"It's a raffle ticket?" Liesel observed, turning it over in her hand, bemused by the sight of a small numbered ticket of the kind often issued in cloakrooms

"Not just any raffle ticket! That's just for show. You need this…" Flora reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. "I printed the details for you."

Liesel opened the envelope and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper. She skimmed over the details and looked up at her friend. "What is this?"

"Well, what does it say?"

Liesel held up the paper and read aloud: "Thank you for your entry to the Magpie Tearooms prize draw. This is an exciting opportunity to win a home and business on the beautiful Devon coast. The draw will take place on 31st March. Terms and conditions apply." She lowered the paper. "Why did you buy me this?"

"You were so fed up the other week, and I happened to see it online when I was looking for a romantic weekend away for me and Dan. I thought you'd appreciate it."

Liesel had laughed. "You have a weird sense of humour."

However, the laugh had been on Liesel when an email had arrived on 1st April, informing her she had won the prize draw. She called Flora.

"Ha, ha, good joke! I should have realised you set up that raffle business as an April Fool's joke. How did you make the email appear so authentic? You know, it's a good job I didn't take it seriously. What happens if I phone the number of that solicitor?" She frowned. "It's not some premium charge sex chatline is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

Liesel knew that Flora was skilled at telling a white lie and keeping a straight face, but there was enough uncertainty in her friend's voice to put doubt in her mind.

"That property raffle ticket you bought me for my birthday."

"I assure you I haven't sent you a joke email about it. I know I thought it was funny when I bought it for you, but I wouldn't be cruel enough to try to fool you that you had won."

"Are you sure it was genuine in the first place?"

"There's only one way to find out. Why don't you call them?"

She had done just that and spoken to Walter Collins, who had assured her that everything was as described, and she was the legal winner of the prize.

"You've acquainted yourself with the terms and conditions, of course?" he had asked her.

Liesel vaguely remembered the two sheets of paper Flora had given her and wondered if she had stuffed them in the odds and ends drawer in the kitchen. However, unwilling to admit that she hadn't read the documents fully, she had given her affirmation. The call had concluded with Mr Collins asking her to advise him when she would be able to visit. Knowing that she had a leave booked the following week, requested out of boredom and hope of some good spring weather rather than any definite plan, she informed Mr Collins that she would present herself on the 8th of April.

"Are you familiar with Meryton-on-Sea?"

She admitted that she was not. He proceeded to give her detailed directions to the town and then read what she could only assume was the blurb from a local tourist board leaflet, as he spoke of a picturesque fishing harbour, clifftop walks, winding streets with listed historic buildings and a strong tourist trade in the summer months. She had ended the call and stared out of the living room window of her flat, taking in the grubby exterior of the city centre office block opposite, the constant hum of traffic in the road below, and the noise from the flat above her, where her neighbour appeared to be tap dancing in a pair of hobnailed boots. She was stunned. The email was genuine. Mr Collins hadn't tried to obtain her bank details or mentioned any suspect cash deposits that she would need to make. Quite the opposite. He had mentioned money that would be paid to her, the transfer of a business as a going concern, staff who were already employed and something about a trial period. He had only asked that she bring some documents with her to prove her identity when she called at his office next week.

She had sat in silence for at least half an hour, trying to weigh up what this might mean for the future until she remembered the print-out Flora had provided and started to rifle through various drawers in the kitchen and her desk. She eventually found it being used as bookmark, wedged in a detective novel on the shelf, one which she had picked up and discarded after four chapters because she had guessed the murderer and checked her hunch by looking at the end of the book. She opened the printed pages and read them again in more detail and interest.

The information helped to make more sense of the conversation, but there were some legal terms she didn't understand. However, it was described as a freehold property with permission for both business and residential use and was a going concern. The mention of staff already being in situ helped with any concerns about involvement in the catering business, and in any case, she decided that if she didn't like the look of the place, she would sell it and be done with. There was no need to concern herself. It was only when Flora's boyfriend, Dan, perused the documents the following day that the bombshell dropped. They had been discussing the strange turn of events, and Liesel had repeated the idea that she might just take a look and then sell, if it seemed a poor prospect.

"You do realise that you have to continue to operate the business on the premises as it currently is, for the next two years, don't you, Liesel? The freehold and business transfer to you officially at the end of that period."

She stared at him in shock. He passed her the paper and pointed to the legions of small print on the second page. He was right. The winner of the raffle was obliged to operate the business without making any changes for two years.

"What if I don't want to do that?"

"Then you'll be given a cash prize of £15,000, and the property transfers to a local animal charity to dispose of in whichever way they see fit. If you take it on, it says that a salary will be provided for you and the existing staff during that period, so it's not all bad, and there's living accommodation over the tearooms. It seems as if someone very badly wanted it to stay open in the town and for the staff to keep their jobs."

"So, I'm tied to it, no matter what?"

"No, as I said, you can give it up, if you want."

Her first instinct was to do just that. Why didn't she just call Walter Collins and tell him she'd changed her mind, she'd take the £15,000 offered and then take no further interest? She could have a nice holiday, maybe take Flora with her as a thank you for buying the raffle ticket. It would be a good story to tell, but it wouldn't change anything in her life or her dissatisfaction with her career. If she stuck it out, there was a chance she could benefit. All she had to do was keep the place running for two years, and then it would be hers; lock, stock and barrel. The money from that sale would make a real difference to her life. What did she have to lose by going to Meryton-on-Sea next week and taking a look at it?

ooOoo

Her first impression was not good. The Magpie tearooms had definitely seen better days. The masonry paint was more grey than white in colour, and larges patches of the exterior were peeling away. The black and white, half-timbered Tudor effect, seemed at odds with the age of the building, a fact confirmed by the date plate above the front door which confirmed 1813 as its date of construction. She wondered at the thought process of someone who had decided on that style and was bemused by the way the window frames were no longer quite straight, as decades of sinking foundations had warped them out of shape. Blinds had been drawn at the windows, the place having been shut up since the death of its owner. It appeared sad and neglected, and her heart sank at the sight of it.

However, the location of the business, in a narrow street just off the harbourside, was good. The tide was in and the legion of small boats, mainly privately-owned pleasure craft, sailing dinghys and small yachts, bobbed up and down in the stiff breeze, their ropes randomly clanking against the masts like the percussion section of an orchestra playing out of time. Further away, moored at the more substantial stone quayside, near the harbour entrance, she could see a few larger fishing vessels. They were probably what remained of the once thriving fishing fleet which had operated from this small port. It was a small town which survived on the tourist trade these days, and the absence of any significant numbers of people in the streets told her it was definitely out of season.

"It needs some work," Flora observed.

"That's an understatement," Liesel replied. "I'm beginning to see why it was sold in an online raffle." She looked around her, trying to imagine the harbour in the holiday season, bustling with day-trippers, all thirsty and hungry and looking for somewhere to buy refreshment. It was hard to imagine The Magpie tearooms being anyone's first choice. You were hardly likely to find anything tasty, exciting or different here. She had visions of sandwiches with dried and curling edges, rock hard scones and an ancient tea urn boiling away all day on the counter.

"Well, you can't judge a book by its cover!" Flora declared.

Liesel frowned. "I believe customers do!"

They were disturbed by the arrival of Walter Collins, rattling a set of keys in his right hand and keen to show them around.

"Hello again! Did you have a pleasant lunch?"

After presenting herself at his offices this morning, and proving her identity, they had agreed to meet here at two o'clock to view the property and sign the papers if all was in order and to her satisfaction. Having viewed the exterior of the property, Liesel was not filled with enthusiasm for whatever lay within.

Walter struggled to unlock the front door. The key appeared to be sticking, and he threw them an embarrassed smile over one shoulder before applying himself to the task in hand and muttering something which might have been a mild expletive under his breath. It was with a groan of irritation that the lock finally gave in to persuasion, and he pushed the door and held it open to them.

Liesel and Flora stepped over the threshold. The light was dim, there was a stale smell of coffee, and it was chilly. Liesel shivered. She gazed around her and wondered whether anyone had died here. The owner had been quite elderly by all accounts.

Walter turned on the lights. A dozen tables covered in black and white check cloths were laid out across the room in four neat rows of three. At the far end stood a counter with a glass display cabinet, presumably for cakes, and beyond that two swing doors which led into the kitchen. The light came from a small glass chandelier. It was surprising in this environment, and it illuminated the room. She slowly turned around, her heart sinking as she absorbed the scene before her. The Magpie tearooms were tired, dated and uninspiring. Her attention was caught by a dozen or so framed black and white photographs on the walls. She took a few steps nearer and took a closer look. Moving along the wall, she soon ascertained that they appeared to be theatrical still photographs, and all featured the same woman in a variety of costumes and guises, but her face was not familiar.

"Who is it in the photographs?"

Walter Collins crossed the room to join her. "That's Catherine de Bourgh, the late owner of this establishment."

"Catherine de Bourgh? I don't think I've heard of her?"

"Oh, as you may tell, that was a long time ago." He squinted to look at the photograph. "I think that one dates from the early 1950's. She was well known on the stage at that time, but she retired in the late 1960's and came here to open The Magpie." He smiled at Liesel. "In fact, the café is named after the play in which she had her most celebrated role."

Liesel racked her brains, trying recall if she had ever heard of a play of that name, but decided it was probably best left for an internet search when she had nothing better to do.

"So, she was an actress, this Catherine de Bourgh?"

Walter nodded. "Oh yes. I do think some people are born for the stage. She might have retired from theatrical life, but her thespian roots never entirely left her. She always had a certain air about her, and she was certainly never afraid to be in the limelight or forge her own path in life."

Liesel stared at the photograph on the wall. The woman in the photograph stared back at her, holding her gaze with a steely resolve. She was handsome and imposing, and Liesel sensed from Walter's words that Catherine de Bourgh been a woman of some mettle.

"Ah, yes…Lady Catherine was well known in this town, and she'll be missed…by some," Walter remarked as he pulled a couple of chairs away from one of the tables, indicating that Liesel and Flora should sit down.

Liesel was astonished. "Lady Catherine?"

He gave a small laugh, "Just a little joke amongst the locals, you know. In The Magpie she played a titled aristocratic lady, and the name just stuck for some reason. I'm sure she knew, but she didn't seem to mind." He lowered his voice as if he was about to divulge a secret. "Catherine de Bourgh was a stage name, you see. Her real name was Kathleen Brown. It doesn't have quite the same ring to it!"

Liesel gazed at the photograph of the woman. Was she mistaken, or was there a challenge in her eyes? Kathleen Brown had dared to be different. Perhaps it really was the time to change her own life. She made her decision.

ooOoo

"It needs modernisation! Who wants ancient tearooms anymore? I'll get it repainted, something bright and cheerful, and the name will have to go! Whoever heard of such an inappropriate name for a café at the seaside. 'The Seagull' might be better."

"Or something nautical," Flora suggested.

Liesel joined in. "How about 'The Captain's Table' or 'The Pirate's Pantry?'"

They both laughed.

"It's always been called The Magpie, and if you want to change the appearance, you'll have to get permission from the planning officer at the council. It's a listed building."

Liesel spun around in surprise at the sound of a male voice behind her. For a moment, she was totally disarmed. Her annoyance at his interruption was swept away by the flawless blend of a tall, dark-haired handsome man, impeccably dressed yet exuding effortless style. Despite the aristocratic air of nonchalance and the public-school tone of authority, 'fit' was the word uppermost in her mind. She could almost forgive the accusation in his voice.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I couldn't help hearing that you were discussing The Magpie tearooms. I assume, from the way you're talking, that you're the new owner?"

"Yes, I am." Despite the fact he cut an imposing figure, she was determined not to appear intimidated. She held out her hand to him. "Liesel Bennet."

He hadn't expected that from her and, somewhat surprised, he took her hand. "Are you German?"

She hadn't expected that from him. "No, my mother was obsessed with The Sound of Music!"

She could tell he was trying to decide if she was joking, but she had no intention of clarifying the matter for him. "What about you?"

"I'm not German."

She almost laughed. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips as he released her hand. "William Darcy - Chairman of Meryton-on-Sea Business Guild, should you need any advice."

"You'd be the person to ask?"

"Well, I imagine you won't be familiar with the way things are here. It was, after all, a total gamble for Catherine de Bourgh to set up that raffle."

"That's the nature of raffles," she responded with a smile.

"I meant that anyone might win it and whoever it was, was going to be an outsider."

It was apparent to her that he didn't like the fact that The Magpie had been sold in this manner.

"I take it you don't approve of the process, or is it just that someone local won't be running the place?"

"You misunderstand me. My concern is that it places you and that business at a disadvantage."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Well…" she saw him glance down at her left hand, "…Miss Bennet. What do you know about this area, the town, the local market or the competition? You're not very well placed to make commercial decisions." He gave her a long appraising look. "Have you done your homework?"

It was an uncomfortably apt question and, as much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She had done little more than a cursory online engine search to find out about Meryton-on-Sea. Until she had signed the contract this afternoon, the idea of walking away with some money had persisted. Tomorrow, she would be in charge. By signing the contract, she had made herself manager of a business about which she knew nothing. Her only relevant experience was being a regular customer of a chain of high street coffee shops.

"I'll be up to speed by the time I take over the reins," she replied, trying her best to sound confident, and swiftly realising that she sounded like her prat of a boss at work. The look in those deep brown and far too perceptive eyes of his, told her he didn't believe her, but he inclined his head towards her. "Well, good luck with that. Just make sure you read up on the planning regulations."

He turned back to the publican and exchanged a few words. The conversation was about catering arrangements for a meeting taking place the following day in a function room at the back of the pub. As he turned to leave a minute or so later, his eyes flicked briefly and disparagingly in her direction, but she pretended she hadn't noticed.

She watched him leave, feeling irritated by the uninvited intrusion, unsettled by his words and now all the more in need of a drink. She waved a hand in the direction of the barman, hoping to get his attention but catching Flora's eye at the same moment.

"You were far too slow there, Liesel!"

'What do you mean?'

Flora gave her a knowing look. "Why didn't you ask him to help you with your homework? If you'd played your cards right, it needn't have been dull at all!"

Liesel scoffed and shook her head. "You're joking! Just because he chairs a few meetings in a pub, and clearly likes the sound of his own pompous voice, doesn't mean he knows what he's talking about!"

The barman was now standing before them and had caught Liesel's words.

"William Darcy's a town councillor, and he owns the largest tourist attraction around here, Pemberley Park. More than half the trade in the town is day trippers for the Park. Not much happens in this area that he isn't involved with." He took the order from Flora, filled two glasses with white wine and set them up on the bar. It was only when he took the money from Liesel and was about to move away to the till that he added, "Oh…and he and Catherine de Bourgh were always at loggerheads. I know she wanted to help the animal sanctuary with that raffle, but some people reckon she only did it to annoy Darcy."