The tourist swarm which infested all the neighbouring villages never quite reached Gunnerdale Cove. The few remaining fisherman were too busy to care much. There wasn’t anything to see anyway. Some visited and loved it precisely for that reason. Most need something else. Normal life ain’t enough.
There was one thing. The Fisherman’s Club. Over fifty years since Charlie Simpson first pulled a pint behind the bar. Some would say that’s when it last saw a paint brush. The roof leaked. The windows hadn’t kept out a draft since they were fitted. However, it was their club.
The locals were happy enough. One wasn’t. Ray. Known to most as the TV man, Ray had moved into Gunnerdale last year. Bought and renovated the old mill. No. Ray wanted more for his village. Used to wind the locals up something wicked when he said that.
“A restaurant and wine bar” he announced. His old mate “Chef Freshman” from the “Hit” TV show would run it. They would flock from all parts to eat some of Freshman’s delights. So Ray told everybody. They weren’t really listening. Neither was Ray. His heart was in the right place but his brain was in his wallet. That’s what old Jim Ballast told folks as he sold them boiled lobsters.
It went quiet for a while. The club remained open. Then the sign went up.
“The Fisherman’s Club will be closed from 10/04 for renovation. Signed – The Management.”
The locals were shocked but resigned. The club closed at the end of the week.
One month later it reopened. The drafty windows replaced. The leaking roof fixed. The walls painted. Nothing else changed. On the grand reopening night the management appeared. It was the grandson of Charlie Simpson. Made his money in chemicals. Back home for good he says. Even bought Ray’s old place. The locals weren’t half pleased.
The tourists still have nothing to see in Gunnerdale Cove. However, they’ll always get a warm welcome at the club.
These 333 words are my “Club” inspired entry into the Trifecta Week 82 writing challenge.