Chapter 13 — Settling at the Arms

Lorraine’s daughter, Rebecca, had been given one of the guest rooms to sleep in, but that meant there was one less room to rent out. When her son, Ross, turned up, it meant other accommodation was necessary, and a significant amount of money was taken out for the purchase of a big static caravan to house both children. I didn’t mind, as the large caravan had three bedrooms, and that meant opportunity for Alex to leave Rebecca’s, his sister’s, and finally come and live with me in Harrogate.

That was one of the best days there when Alex arrived with his cat, Faye. She was terrified at first, but like all cats, when they have an abundance of trees and mice around them, she quickly acclimatised, and she fell into the life of living there. I think she also felt at ease with being once again reunited with the three dogs, which made a complete fuss of her when she was let out of her cage.

Alex’s first night in the static caravan was his last.

In the morning, Rebecca complained of asthma from the cat, and Lorraine picked the phone up, and within the day a small, cheap caravan was purchased for Alex and his cat. I don’t think Alex minded, as he had his own place now, even though it was kind of tiny.

***

Everything should have run smoothly in the business, as Lorraine not only had the full retinue of staff from the previous owners, but she also had the two girls she’d brought with her. In addition, there were Rebecca, Alex, Ross, and me to help out wherever needed. She had a surfeit of staff compared with the previous regime. When you run a small business, whose clientele is wholly the customer who walks in the door and wishes to be treated well, you cannot make many mistakes.

It was a Sunday, and the day was beautiful; early autumn, but green still showered the trees with colour, and there was a sort of festive spirit in the air, too. Harrogate had been voted the happiest place to live in England, and I think a fair few of them visited the Harrogate Arms that day. I’d been to visit Rebecca and Danny in Leeds, and it was sometime after three in the afternoon when I returned. The lawns were packed, and the terraces were showered with groups of people having fun in the afternoon sun. I decided to take a seat beneath a big, old tree near the entrance and have a rest and watch the scenery a little while before going into the pub.

It doesn’t take much perspicacity, however, to change a quiet moment for a disquieted one. When I looked closer, people around weren’t exactly having fun, but each appeared to demonstrate some sort of twisted anger in their faces. Groups of people passed by the seat I was sat on, and words such as, ‘Atrocious….Bloody awful! Disgraceful! I won’t be coming back here again…Neither will I….,’ and many other verbal demonstrations of insult.

It was a woman called Magda, which I learned afterwards was her name, who politely asked if I was the owner, as she noticed Shep, the large Alsatian I had, sat at the side of me, and which someone had earlier told her belonged to the owner.

‘Are you the owner?’

‘Yes. Can I help?’ This was probably the first customer I had ever spoken to since I moved into the Harrogate Arms.