Sharon ran her bar with military precision. The optics and glasses were gleaming. Customers always knew when to go home, there were no locks-ins. Last orders meant just that. The landlady was definitely in charge.
Sharon’s fish pie was stuff of legends. Homemade, with the fluffiest mash and mouth-watering cod, that was tastier than anything you’d be served in a Michelin starred restaurant, or so the local paper quoted.
All the food served was delicious and freshly made. Sharon was an excellent chef and landlady. She was fond of live music and quiz nights and the occasional open mic night. The pub was a social hub and place of fun. Lots of villagers frequented ‘The Randy Badger’ especially Tom Dewberry.
It was a chilly February night, when John Hartman called in to the pub asking after Tom.
‘I hear you’ve seen Tom, Mrs Walters?’
‘Call me Sharon, John’
Sharon took a liking to John, his swarthy looks put her in mind of a film star she couldn’t quite put a name to.
‘He comes in most nights’ Sharon said, leaning forward across the bar, her lust for John barely contained.
‘Tom Dewberry?’ John asked, diverting his eyes from Sharon’s voluptuousness.
‘He sits on that stool over there and sups a pint. Not everyone notices the shadows, or feels the temperature drop, but I do. The lights flicker too.’
John was delighted with his enquiries and told Sharon that he’d definitely squeeze her in to the schedule. ‘Haunted Happenings’ would love to feature her pub and Tom Dewberry in the next series.
Sharon giggled and said she’d look forward to making an appearance on the show.
‘Let’s hope Tom Dewberry makes an appearance too, say a prayer he doesn’t ghost us.’ John said, winking at Sharon.
© Liz Breen