‘Yes. The Whartons liked to spend Christmas Day and Boxing Day on their own, as a family. So they always gave the staff a couple of days off. No one wants to work over that period anyway, if they can help it. And very few customers are interested in driving out on to the moors for their Christmas dinner, even when the weather isn’t as bad as it was then.’
‘So Maurice and Nancy would have been looking forward to a quiet time on their own with the kids.’
‘Right. They certainly wouldn’t have expected the police and mountain rescue teams all over the place two days after the pub had closed for Christmas.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
Lane laughed. ‘I can just imagine what Mad Maurice must have said to them. In a way, I wish I’d been there to hear it. I bet it was priceless.’
‘Yes, he’s known as quite a character.’
‘You can say that again. Everyone talks about Maurice Wharton. Even some of the staff here know of him.’
Lane arranged some glasses on the shelf above his head, and cast an eye around the lounge to see if there were any customers requiring attention. But all was quiet. It was a little too quiet for Cooper’s liking, but that was probably why people came here.
‘Have you seen the Whartons since they left the pub, Mr Lane?’ he asked.
‘A couple of times. It was sad to visit them in that little council house. Losing the pub hit Nancy hard. I think Kirsten and Eliot were the worst affected, though. It was their life, the place they’d grown up in. They used to love being able to walk out of the door and wander about on the moors. And both of them detested the idea of moving into town and living on that housing estate. They even had to get rid of the dogs. To be honest, I’m surprised Eliot’s still there. But of course he was always devoted to his dad. He wouldn’t leave Maurice.’
‘I see. You must have got on all right with the Whartons. You worked at the Light House quite a while.’
‘Yes, it was fine once you got used to Mad Maurice. Everyone liked Nancy, and Eliot and Kirsten are nice kids. People could take or leave Maurice, I suppose. But he was the one who got all the attention.’
‘So what do
‘Wrong? Oh, you mean the reason for it closing down?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Lots of things. I think it began when we had fewer pumps on the bar than there used to be. That’s a bad sign.’
‘Why?’
‘The number of pumps reflects your throughputs. You’ve got to shift lager and keg ale within five days, and cask in three. Beer is a living product, you see. Overstocking leads to fobbing and deterioration in quality. If you’re not going to sell the beer, you have to reduce the number of pumps. Maurice’s throughputs had been going down for years.’
‘Fobbing?’ asked Cooper.
‘Too much foaming when the beer is pulled through.’
‘Is the quality of beer that important?’
‘Of course. What do you think — that people just drink any old rubbish? Have you never heard of CAMRA?’
‘I suppose so. It just never occurred to me that beer quality might have contributed to the failure of the business.’
‘Well, there were other factors. All kinds of things might have affected the bottom line. Stock going out of date because of overordering, credit lost because goods were returned after their best before date. You can see there’s a cumulative effect.’
‘A slippery slope,’ said Cooper.
‘Exactly. I think it must have been difficult for the Whartons to get good staff, too. The students who worked there never had proper training. They were constantly spilling beer into the drip trays. Filling one tray a day with wasted beer is like losing fifteen thousand pounds’ worth of sales over the course of a year for a pub that size.’
Cooper was impressed. ‘You’re very well clued up about the business.’
‘I’ve got qualifications, my friend. NVQ Level Three and a National Certificate.’
Reluctantly Cooper put his empty cup down on the counter. ‘Thanks for the coffee. It was very good. All we get at the station is something hot and wet from a machine.’
‘No problem. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’
‘Can I contact you here?’
‘I’ll write my mobile number down for you.’
Lane scribbled the number on a sheet from an order pad and handed it to Cooper.
‘Of course, you realise it was all show,’ he said. ‘I mean that “mad Maurice” business. Maurice Wharton was a top landlord in his time. Good at his job, loyal to his customers. They were like a big family to him. If you showed that you were willing to fit in at the Light House, he’d do anything for you.’
‘Anything?’ said Cooper.
Lane hesitated. ‘Well, yes — I think so.’
At West Street, Luke Irvine had been busy tracking down the information that Cooper had asked him for.