2009 Theakstons Old Peculiar competition entry
Things had gone remarkably well since Henry took over the Bricklayer’s Arms, a failing pub in a dismal part of the inner city.
“What I’ve got in common with Ryan Giggs,” he told the rough element who tested him in the early days, “is a strong left foot. Don’t make me prove it.” Henry’s frame was as large as his personality and no one did. New customers, attracted by his jovial manner and the tasty dishes on his wife Viv’s ‘credit crunch’ menus, more than made up for the loss of those Henry had barred.
Within a few months, there was no more talk of closure and takings had quadrupled. It was the first step towards Henry’s long cherished ambition to own a village pub in the Yorkshire Dales. In his dreams, wood smoke from an open log fire mingled pleasantly with the aroma of his favourite beer; one that the brewery who owned the Bricklayer’s Arms would not allow him to stock. Henry recklessly ordered some anyway and sold it to favoured customers like DI Smith, who often called in on his way home. Henry was caught out just once, early on in his tenancy, by Peter Pugh, the brewery’s retail development manager. Far from agreeing to buy his silence, Henry reported his clumsy attempt at blackmail and had him fired. Henry himself got off with a final warning.
Pugh swore revenge. Unfortunately for him, the day he was caught in the cellar with his camera, Henry was in an uncharacteristically bad mood. The brewery had just notified him that his reward for turning the pub round was going to be a sharp increase in both rent and beer prices. He took out all his frustration on Pugh and felt much better for it.
Happy now, he clinked glasses with DI Smith and lifted the pint of Theakston’s Old Peculier to his lips; then, just as he was about to drink, he saw the direction of the policeman’s gaze and realised that there was a dark patch of blood on the toe of his left trainer.