Page 41 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

‘Hah, I’m twenty-seven, not twelve, Lucy.’ He gave her a wink.

The pizza horsebox had arrived a good hour before any guests were due. The kiln-dried logs needed to be lit as soon as possible, to give the oven plenty of time to get to at least 400 degrees C. In the meanwhile, she and Olly had the antipasti platters to set out and garnish creatively, as well as a host of other practical jobs.

With Jack’s arrival imminent, Lucy was pleased she’d be busy for a good while, and having Olly here would act as a deflection too. She still wasn’t sure how she was feeling about that near-kiss, especially when it had been followed so soon afterwards by Becky’s damning revelation.

But it wasn’t long before that familiar gleam of deep-red appeared and the Volkswagen’s distinctive front end turned into the driveway. Lucy’s stomach gave a little uneasy flip.

Jack found himself very much looking forward to this evening, with the chance to see Lucy again. A touch of nerves hit his belly as he neared the booking address, and it was in no way to do with the function. It had been a very long time since he’d felt any of this … what was it, a sort of gut-wrenching, falling kind of feeling? Jeez, it was as unsettling as it was exciting, to be honest. But … he told himself, all he really wanted was to get to know Lucy some more, see how things went. Small steps … big feelings.

He reached the gates. She was already there; the grey horsebox in position on the driveway, and he could see her setting up. He pulled in, waving a friendly ‘Hello’ across to her. But … who the heck was that? Jack spotted a guy in the horsebox; tall, dark-haired, good-looking. He stopped in his tracks. When Lucy had had help at other functions, it had always been that surly-faced young girl. Was a friend helping out, perhaps a boyfriend? It was then he spotted them goofing around behind the counter, grinning away and looking far too familiar with each other. He was hit by an odd sinking feeling.

Lucy looked up, with a brief, ‘Ah, hi, Jack.’ And that was it. That was all she said.

The bloke with her merely gave a confident, steady smile.

Shit, was that why she’d pulled away from the kiss on her cottage doorstep? Because she had a boyfriend already? Maybe it wasn’t Daisy’s doing after all. Everything was just a tangled mess of emotions. But why hadn’t she said anything? He suddenly realised just how little he knew about her.

Jack trailed back to Ruby feeling weirdly crushed. Glad for something to distract him, he concentrated on lining up his champagne flutes and cocktail glasses to perfection; presentation was everything. He loved the campervan bar to look the part, theming it individually for each event. Tonight, he’d got grey-and-white birthday bunting ready to string along the front of the counter, and two pearlised 40th birthday helium-filled balloons to tie at the far end of the van. He filled an ice bucket ready to chill bottles of champagne, then proceeded to decorate his counter with limes, oranges, lemons, passionfruit, plus jugs of fresh mint, rosemary and basil. As well as the champagne, he had a Tom Collins ‘welcome’ cocktail to prepare, and plenty of Italian lagers chilling in the fridge. Yep, despite the mixed emotions about Lucy, he was able to flick the switch and become Master of Mixology for the night. Jack’s Cocktail Campervan at your service.

There was a buzz of guest arrivals, champagne corks flying and flutes filling. He was soon in the swing of it all. Yet, in the midst of all the chat and cocktail creation, Jack couldn’t help but steal the odd glance the way of the horsebox. The two of them over there, prepping platters of food, standing far too close for Jack’s liking. The guy leaning in and whispering something in Lucy’s ear which made her giggle. She seemed extremely comfortable in his company – no hint of Ice Queen about her at all. There was a close easiness in the way they were together. There was no way this guy was a mere workmate. Jack’s initial excitement at seeing her again had wilted like a popped balloon.

The evening rolled on and by 9 p.m., Lucy and Olly had tidied away the grazing boards – the contents of which had been pretty much demolished – served over fifty pizzas, and ta dah, it was time for the cake display. This was the most nerve-wracking part of the evening for Lucy. So, could she come up trumps with dessert as well as with her savoury dishes? The proof would be in the pudding.

Lucy had discovered two antique silver trays in Nonna’s kitchen cabinet – brought all the way across from Italy with Papa’s family, apparently – which her grandmother was happy for Lucy to take and keep; saying they were far better being used than gathering dust in the back of her cupboards. Lucy had carefully assembled the chocolate layers earlier in the day, cutting them into neat squares with a raspberry on each to decorate, then she had placed them onto the pretty antique trays, covering them gently with foil. She hoped to goodness they’d travelled okay in the back of her trailer – she’d driven super-carefully. Lifting one corner of the foil tentatively, Lucy gave a sigh of relief. All present and correct, bar the odd toppled raspberry, which she was able to easily pop back in place. Phew!

For the Clementine and Limoncello Cake, which was packed with zesty sunshine flavours, she sliced neat triangle wedges and now arranged them on a pretty, white, scallop-edged platter of her mum’s. Nonna had recommended making some crème fraiche laced with orange zest, to dollop next to each portion. That was already prepped and ready, and was looking delightfully creamy in a white-and-blue pottery bowl, which she garnished with an extra curl or two of orange zest. She set the dish out beside the citrus cake platter so the partygoers could help themselves. Well, the cakes certainly looked the part as Lucy placed them out on the linen-covered trestle table. Now, for the taste test.

‘Pudding is served!’ she called out to the happy gathering in the garden, who were chatting away merrily, the odd peal of laughter ringing out.

Word soon spread around the guests, and Lucy quickly had a little queue forming. She held her breath as the first spoons were lifted … and … there were plenty of ‘Umm’s and ‘Ahh’s and ‘Gorgeous’es as the partygoers tucked in. Phew! She’d hopefully managed to pull that pudding palaver off. She said a silent ‘thank you’ to Nonna. With Papa’s pizzas and Nonna’s puddings, All Fired Up was turning into a food force to be reckoned with.

‘Looks like you nailed it, sis.’ Olly had clearly been watching the guests’ reactions too.

The pair of them high-fived behind the counter top.

Who was that bloody guy working with Lucy? Jack still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the antics at the pizza van. The two of them had been chatting away most of the night, working smoothly side-by-side, and now they were high-fiving like a match made in heaven.

Lucy’s boyfriend. Could it be true? Jack realised he really didn’t want it to be. He felt like such a fool.

But the evening moved on, the party in full swing, keeping Jack busy. And the party crowd were certainly enjoying their drinks – with a few high jinks involved, including a hilarious, if somewhat saucy, party game involving the guests passing around several of Jack’s lemons and limes with no hands allowed, and a full-on caterwauling version of Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ sung en masse in the garden.

In the lead-up to midnight, several taxis arrived and other guests began their slightly wobbly walks home. Some friends of Nikki’s, who were staying on overnight, ordered a last, rather large, round of drinks for good measure. With Jack’s temporary licence finishing at midnight, it was soon time to get packed up. He was exhausted from another busy event but, disconcertingly, he found he now had more time to think.

Jack had envisaged chatting with Lucy as the guests filtered home, had been looking forward to it. Not much chance of that now, he mused grumpily, not with good-looking guy in tow. Yet even now, seeing her stood beside the settling embers of the pizza oven, he told himself to just buck up, and steel himself. He’d been wanting to talk to her all night, so why didn’t he just bloody well go over there …? But why did that suddenly feel so hard?

Chapter 22

‘Hi guys. How did it all go? A good evening for you, Luce? You certainly looked to be flat out.’

Lucy looked up sharply. There he was, Jack the Lad, striding over to the horsebox. Trust him to burst her balloon after the success of the evening. But she supposed she’d better be polite, he had got her this job after all, though she couldn’t help but bristle on seeing him approach.

‘Oh, hi,’ she stuttered. ‘Well yeah, we’ve never stopped. Pizzas, platters, cakes. It’s been a good booking.’ She was leaning on the horsebox’s counter top, trying her best to look casual, all the while thinking: so this was the guy who had hurt her best friend so badly.

‘Well, I thought you might be ready for one of these then …’ He offered up the flutes of fizz. ‘Prosecco and pizza, you really can’t go wrong, can you?’

Hah, did he think he could smooth things over with a glass of fizz? Another classic Jack tactic, for sure. ‘Oh, okay. Well thanks, Jack.’ She kept her tone cool.

Jack looked a bit confused, staring sheepishly down at the prosecco glasses in his hands.