Cock & Bull - Laura Barnard Page 0,60

enough surprises for one day.’

‘Well I put some money into a savings scheme when I was eighteen.’

‘Right…’ Ella and I look to each other in confusion.

‘And they contacted me to say it had turned into a healthy ten thousand pounds. I couldn’t believe it.’

Oh my god. Only my dad could be that lucky. Unbelievable.

‘And because me and your mother don’t need that kind of money we’ve decided to give it to you both. Help you out with the pub.’

Ella grasps my hand and squeals.

‘Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ She jumps all over Dad. ‘You have no idea what good timing this is.’

I quickly glare warningly at her. I don’t want them knowing about the Sky incident. We’ll look dumb—which we were, but that’s not the point. This is amazing though. We’ll have enough to pay the seven thousand euro fine and some left over to help pay the bills. I can’t lie, if it equalled my original savings I invested into this place, I’d pack up today and just leave. Unfortunately its nowhere near, so I’ll just invest it in the business and hope we get a sale soon.

‘Here it is,’ Dad says, handing me over a cheque.

‘Thank you, Dad. Honestly, I am grateful. Still mad, but grateful.’

Chapter Thirty-One

Tuesday 20th October

The most annoying thing about having the pub is that you can never call in sick or cry off. You have to stay open just in case some people decide to come in. Ella’s gone for a walk down the lane to try and get some Wi-Fi.

We’ve got a group of five guards in, finally taking advantage of their fifty percent discount. I’m keeping myself busy by taking all of the glasses from the shelves and cleaning underneath them. It’s amazing how grotty it gets.

I can’t think too long about my new sisters, I get a headache, so instead I’ve decided to come up with plans to ruin Clooney’s dad’s pub. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us. It’s as simple as that.

‘Any other secrets you want to tell me about your dad?’ I ask Clooney. ‘You know, take my mind off my own ridiculous family?’

‘Afraid not.’ He grins, drying up a glass. Why do his biceps look so bloody pronounced when he does that? I can sense I might start dribbling so I look away. ‘But…’ He smiles towards a guy that just walked in. ‘I know a man who might.’

I frown at him. What’s he up to?

‘Hey,

Sean, how are ya?’

The man is about sixty with salt and pepper hair. He’s quite trendy, wearing well cut jeans, a polo t-shirt and trainers he definitely didn’t buy himself. Something tells me he has grandchildren that keep him trendy.

‘I’m good thanks, Clooney. How are you, lad? My first visit to you down here.’

Clooney widens his arms. ‘Well, welcome. This is Phoebe Bellerose, the new licensee. Her sister’s out.’

‘Ah, I did just drive past a little lady holding their phone in the air. Could that be her?’

We both look at each other with secret smiles. I love feeling like we have an inside joke.

‘That’ll be her.’

‘Well, nice to meet ya.’ He reaches his hand across and shakes mine. ‘Nice to finally have a new boozer.’

New boozer? Why doesn’t he like Clooney’s dad’s place?

‘Clooney, I’ll have half a bitter please.’

Clooney winks at me while he pumps it out. ‘We were actually just talking about me da. He’s done so much to try and ruin this business it’s unreal.’ He hands over his drink.

‘Really?’ He takes a sip out of his bitter. ‘Doesn’t surprise me. He’s hardly an angel himself.’

‘That’s what I want to hear,’ Clooney says eagerly, leaning on his forearms, his eyebrows wagging ridiculously. ‘Give me all the dirt.’

Nobody stands a chance when Clooney turns on the charm. Not even old men.

‘Well, where do I start?’ He rubs his chin thoughtfully.

I can’t believe he’s willing to share dirt on him. Who is this guy? And why does he hate Fergus? Everyone else seems to think the sun shines out of his arse.

‘Ah, one thing that can get him in trouble for sure.’ He leans in, as if about to expose a conspiracy theory. ‘Well, as you know, he owns the lease of the pub, not the actual building. So he’s supposed to buy all the booze through the brewery or he could lose his license.’

‘And you don’t think he does?’ I ask, leaning in eagerly.

He grins. ‘I’ve seen him at Dublin Costco a few times. Always has