Читать книгу The Boss - Caz Finlay - Страница 11

Grace walked into the almost empty bar area of the Rose and Crown. Her bar manager, Marcus Holden, was placing menus on the tables in preparation for the usual lunchtime crowd. He usually opened up so she could have a lie in – a perk of being the boss. Marcus was her longest serving and most reliable employee, as well as a good friend.

He’d worked at the bar since Grace was seventeen, and at just two years older than her, they’d clicked from the very beginning. When her dad died a year later he helped her to navigate the running of the place and had been by her side ever since, apart from a brief hiatus when Nathan had sacked him without Grace’s knowledge. The first thing she’d done after taking control of her pub again was to phone Marcus and beg him to come back. He’d accepted before she’d even finished the question. He often joked that Grace could never fire him because he knew where the bodies were buried, and Grace always smiled politely when he did, because Marcus had no idea. He was a great pub manager, but she did her best to keep him far away from her other business activities. They both preferred it that way.

Patrick Carter was sitting at the bar on a stool, reading a newspaper and eating a bacon sandwich, which he’d no doubt talked the chef into making him, even though the kitchen wasn’t officially open.

‘Morning, Pat.’ She smiled as she greeted him. ‘What brings you here so early?’

‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay.’ He smiled back.

‘I’m fine. I can look after myself.’

‘I know that, boss. Just here in case you need me,’ he said before returning to his newspaper and sandwich.

It still sounded odd to hear the legendary Patrick Carter calling her Boss. He’d given her that moniker shortly after they’d met ten years ago, and he’d worked for her ever since. But not in the same way Marcus did. No, Patrick undertook more specialized work. He did the type of jobs that you couldn’t advertise in the local newspaper. Running a pub in Liverpool could be a dangerous game after all. Patrick was what some might call her right-hand man. One of her most trusted confidantes. He gave good counsel, but more importantly he knew when to keep his opinions to himself and do as he was told.

Grace took one of the discarded bread crusts from Patrick’s plate. ‘You always leave the best bit,’ she said before taking a bite.

He grinned at her. ‘Leave them for you, don’t I?’

Marcus approached her and put an arm around her shoulder, giving her a light peck on the cheek. ‘Morning, lovely,’ he said. ‘You all right?’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she snapped. She hated to be coddled by them.

‘Okay, keep your knickers on,’ he pouted. ‘I’m only asking.’

‘We’re just worried about you,’ Patrick added. Before she could reply he interrupted her. ‘Yes, we know you can look after yourself, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be concerned about you.’

‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just on edge, that’s all.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Marcus said. ‘The way he walked in here last night, like he owned the place.’

‘Well that’s Nathan,’ Grace said.

‘I don’t get what you ever saw in him, Grace,’ Patrick said. ‘He’s such an arrogant prick.’

Grace smiled. He was an arrogant prick, there was no doubt about that. But he hadn’t always been that way. Sometimes she allowed herself to think about when they first met and how incredibly happy he’d made her. After losing her dad she’d felt so alone. And then Nathan had bounded into her life, full of energy and confidence. He could make her laugh like no one else ever had. Whenever she was around him the whole world had seemed brighter, and she felt as if she could face anything with Nathan by her side. Dear God, the naiveté of a love-struck teenager, she laughed to herself.

‘What’s so funny?’ Marcus asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

‘Just thinking about old times,’ she said. ‘Remember when we were young and dumb?’

‘Aw yes.’ He smiled. ‘You used to be so sweet.’

Patrick laughed so hard he spat some of his coffee onto the bar.

Grace ignored them both. She concentrated on picking an imaginary piece of fluff from her skirt so they wouldn’t see her eyes brim with tears. This was why she hated thinking about the past. About the person she once was. The person Nathan was. The possibilities of young love and everything that could have been.