The Beach Hut Next Door Read Free Page B

him with the sanctuary he needed. It was an escape, a refuge, a home from home; somewhere he could forget the past and his responsibilities.
    So he wasn’t going to ignore whatever Murphy had up his sleeve.
    ‘Six o’clock it is,’ he said, and hung up.Vince didn’t waste words. Besides, once the boat had rounded the promontory, they would lose signal. He would be incommunicado for the rest of the day.

    At six that night, showered and dressed in faded jeans and a soft grey sweatshirt, an olive-green beanie pulled down over his damp hair, Vince strolled into the Ship Aground. Murphy was perched on a high stool at the bar. His uniform was much the same, only his sweatshirt was Abercrombie & Fitch and his beanie was cashmere. Had it been the height of summer, the two of them would have attracted infinite female interest, but the bar sported only a smattering of drinkers. The pub stayed resolutely open throughout the winter for the sake of the locals, who would otherwise have nowhere to meet or drink. The owner didn’t mind that he rarely met his overheads over the hibernal months. He more than made up for it in summer.
    The two friends clasped hands as Vince took the stool next to Murphy.
    ‘How’s it going?’
    ‘It’s good,’ said Murphy. ‘But it’s going to get better. You know Marianne’s?’
    ‘The restaurant?’
    ‘She’s had enough. She’s shutting down. She’s given me first refusal on the lease.’
    Marianne’s was a rather tired French restaurant that had been in Everdene for as long as anyone could remember. Its eponymous owner was a legend, but an ageing one. Come every winter she threatened to close and move back to France. Only this time, it seemed she meant it.
    ‘Have you taken it?’
    ‘Too right. Leases like that don’t come up round here very often. And I’ve got a plan.’
    ‘Course you have.’ Vince smiled. When did his friend not have a plan? It was one of the things he loved best about him.
    Murphy slid the elastic band off a rolled-up set of drawings.
    ‘This, my friend, is the venture we have been waiting for.’
    He spread out the paper, which was smothered in sketches and scribbles and mathematical equations – the inner workings of Murphy’s mind; a tangle of hieroglyphics and images that Vince had learned to decipher over the years.
    ‘We strip the building out completely. Take it right back to the bare walls. Re-plaster; wallop it out. Then, we put in an open-plan kitchen separated from the restaurant by a zinc counter. Out the front we have rubber flooring and long tables with benches and stainless steel shelving. All very industrial chic.’
    ‘OK.’ Vince nodded. He could totally visualize it. ‘But I’m not sure where I come in.
    ‘Ah. That’s the beauty of it. The USP.’
    ‘Really?’ Vince had never seen himself as a restaurateur.
    Murphy grinned. ‘We’re just going to serve seafood. Lobster, crab, mussels and prawns. With skinny fries on the side. That’s it. Red or white wine, no choice. Big baskets of home-made bread to dip in extra virgin olive oil while you wait for your catch to be cooked.’ Murphy sat back and smiled. ‘Simple. Are you in? Fifty-fifty.’
    ‘You want me to invest?’
    ‘Vince – I’m in total awe of what you do. You know that. I love that your business has been handed down, and it’s traditional and sustainable and all that shit. But I think you need to – pardon the pun – widen your net. Take a chance. Get out of your comfort zone.’
    ‘Hey. Listen. I’ve been out of my comfort zone. I still am. It’s not that great.’
    Murphy looked a little shamefaced. ‘No, I realize that. I didn’t mean that kind of out-of-your-comfort- zone. I meant something stimulating. And profitable!’
    He leaned across the table. His eyes were shining, green and glassy as the marbles they used to roll on the pavement. ‘Vince, I wouldn’t ask you if this wasn’t a winner. And if I didn’t think you were the right guy. I have