WEEKLY SOAP Riverside
Jim’s new puppy is finally given a name!
IFEEL like a celebration is in order this weekend,” Jim announced to his staff at the Ship. “For St Patrick’s Day?” Sam asked. “I thought we were doing something for that in the back room, having an Irish-themed party and a quiz?”
“There’s that, of course,” Jim said. “But I was thinking of something else, too.”
“It’s not your birthday, is it?” Claire asked, and she and Sam exchanged a smile.
“No, it’s not my birthday.” Jim laughed. “You’ll have to guess again.”
“Wetting the baby’s head?” Claire suggested. “What baby?” Sam asked. “George and Mary’s granddaughter. Didn’t you hear?”
Sam shook his head. “Susan had her baby last week. A little girl. Sarah Georgina, they’re calling her. I took Brady to see the baby yesterday.”
“George hasn’t been in for a while,” Jim said. “I’ve not seen Mary for ages, either.”
“Probably spending all their time doting on their grandchild. It’ll be their first,” Claire said.
“Well, it’s not the baby I was thinking of celebrating,” Jim continued.
“Christmas?” Sam suggested. Claire laughed. “Hallowe’en?”
“Oh, the two of you are being daft,” Jim complained. “If you’re not going to be serious then I’ll tell you.
“This weekend marks one year since we reopened the pub. Can you believe how quickly that’s gone?”
“Is that all?” Sam asked, deflated. “I thought it was going to be something exciting.”
“It is exciting,” Jim huffed. “A lot has happened in the last year. We’ve got a darts team now; we’ve got new customers coming in from the apartments on the riverside; and we’ve got the bar menu up and running.
“We’ve even got you working for us now, Claire.”
Claire nodded towards the puppy who was watching them from under its favourite seat by the fire.
“And you’ve got a new dog.”
Jim sighed and glanced over at the small dog.
“I wasn’t going to keep him, you know. I was determined not to let him into the pub, never mind my life, after Buster died.”
“That puppy’s got you wrapped around his little finger, Uncle Jim.” Sam laughed.
“Do dogs have little fingers?” Claire joined in. Sam shrugged.
“If you’re keeping him, Jim, you need to give him a name,” Claire said. “You can’t just keep calling him ‘that dog’, if he’s staying.”
“The problem is, he only answers to Buster,” Jim whispered.
“Call him that, then. If he answers to it then that’s half your training problems sorted. And why are you whispering?” Claire said.
“Because I don’t want the dog to know we’re talking about him.”
“Oh, he knows, Uncle Jim,” Sam said. “Just look.”
All three of them turned to see the puppy crawl from under the seat and plonk itself in the middle of the pub carpet.
Its head was tilted to one side and it gave a soft bark.
“You two carry on getting ready to open up,” Jim told Sam and Claire. “I’m going to have a little word with –” “Buster?” Claire replied. At the mention of the name, the puppy returned to its place under the seat where Jim’s old dog had always liked to sit.
Jim walked from the bar and sat down in the next seat, picking up the puppy in his arms.
“Right, little Buster,” he said, stroking the dog. “Me and you are going to have a chat. There are some rules you need to know.”
That evening, after checking on Susan and the baby, George and Mary took a walk along the riverside path to the pub.
“George!” Jim shouted when he saw who was coming through the door. George laughed.
“I feel like I’m in that TV programme – that American one where they shouted ‘Norm!’ every time he walked into the pub.”
“Do you mean ‘Cheers’?” Mary asked, walking in behind him.
“That’s the one!” George replied.
“What’ll it be?” Jim asked. “These are on the house, by way of congratulations on the safe arrival of your new granddaughter. You must be as proud as punch, eh?”
“She’s a beauty,” Mary said. “And thanks, Jim. I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
“Pint of Ryemouth Riveter for me, Jim,” George added.
They took their drinks and sat at one of the free tables in the front room of the bar.
After a few minutes, Bob Lewin appeared at their table with a pint in one hand and a gin and tonic in the other.
“I hope you’ll accept these from me,” he said. “I heard the good news.”
“Thank you very much, Bob,” Mary replied, trying to mask her surprise.
In all the years she’d known Bob this was the first time she’d ever known him to put his hand into his pocket.
“I’ve got something to tell you, Mary,” George said after Bob returned to his own table. “You know I rang Doreen to tell her about the baby?”
Mary took a long sip of her G&T at the mention of George’s sharp-tongued sister.
She’d never found Doreen easy to get on with and she knew George found her difficult, too.
“Well,” George continued sheepishly, “she’s said that she’s coming next week for a visit!”