Last Words at the Star and Sixpence

by Holly Hepburn

  Nessie ran a weary hand over her face. ‘I’ve got no idea how it happened. A glitch in the matrix, I suppose.’

  The sales rep apologised again and Nessie rang off. ‘It’s not the end of the world, I suppose,’ she said to Connor. ‘We can probably find somewhere secure to stash the wine and spirits for a week or so. It’s a good thing you sent the Bishop back.’

  ‘No choice,’ Connor replied. ‘There’s not enough room to swing a cat, let alone squeeze in three barrels of beer.’

  ‘Squeeze in as much as you can,’ Nessie said sympathetically. ‘I’ll see what I can sort out for the stuff you don’t have room for.’

  A few calls later, Nessie was satisfied that she’d found a secure location for the excess alcohol and set about going through the Star and Sixpence email to see if she could work out what had gone wrong. Sure enough, there were two emails showing in the Sent Items folder, their date stamps matching the times given by the brewery’s sales rep. Nessie had no idea how they’d come to be duplicated; it had never happened before. But hopefully it was a one-off anomaly – no real harm had been done.

  ‘At least it will come in handy for the cider festival,’ Sam said later that morning, when Nessie explained what had happened. ‘It’s not as though alcohol is perishable.’

  ‘True,’ Nessie replied. ‘But I’m not sure there’s space for Connor in the cellar.’

  Sam shrugged cheerfully. ‘We’ll just have to think of a way to encourage everyone to drink more. It shouldn’t be a problem now that the weather is warming up.’

  It was true; after a dismal rainy May, the sun seemed to be winning the battle to bring summer to the country and the Met Office was predicting soaring temperatures for the end of June.

  ‘Maybe our new member of staff will help too,’ Nessie said with a smile. ‘When are you picking him up?’

  Sam’s eyes gleamed. ‘Tomorrow morning. Gabe and I will drive over to the shelter first thing. I think we’ll keep him upstairs for a few days, until he gets used to being around us, and then we can bring him downstairs for short bursts.’

  ‘I hope he’ll be allowed visitors,’ Nessie said. ‘I know a nine-year-old boy who is – and I quote – “epically excited” to meet him.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sam replied. ‘And we’ll need to give him a new name – maybe Luke can help with that?’

  ‘I’m sure he can,’ Nessie said, imagining how thrilled Luke would be with the news. ‘As long as you don’t mind him being named after some weird character from an online game that no one over the age of fifteen understands?’

  Sam laughed. ‘Good point. Maybe we’ll take suggestions and put it to a vote.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Nessie said. She paused. ‘How did Laurie react when you told him?’

  ‘I – erm – thought we’d surprise him,’ Sam said, not quite able to meet Nessie’s gaze.

  Nessie blinked at her sister in dismay. ‘That’s possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had. What if he’s dog-phobic? Or allergic to them?’

  ‘He told me he had a dog when he was growing up. So he can’t have a phobia or an allergy.’

  ‘Unless they developed recently,’ Nessie suggested. ‘All I’m saying is that you should mention it anyway, to be on the safe side. I’m sure you’ve told Connor and Tilly.’

  ‘Neither of whom had a problem,’ Sam said, raising her chin in a defiant gesture Nessie recognised well. ‘And, actually, I don’t need Laurie’s permission to get a dog.’

  Nessie raised her hands placatingly. ‘Of course you don’t. But this is about common sense and courtesy, not permission.’

  ‘You tell him, then,’ Sam said. ‘I think he’d accept it coming from you.’

  The idea was so ridiculous that Nessie almost laughed. ‘Don’t be daft. I don’t think Laurie sees either of us as being in charge.’

  Sam fell silent for a moment. ‘Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’

  And now that she came to think about it, Nessie had to admit that it did. ‘A bit.’

  ‘Me too,’ Sam said. ‘So you’ll understand why I’m not prepared to let him stand in the way of something that will be good for everyone else involved.’

  It was a fair point, Nessie had to concede; there were lots of plusses to having a pub dog and only one negative. Perhaps Sam was right and Laurie would come round to the idea eventually. The question was, how long would it take him to get there?

  *

  ‘You can’t call him Stumpy,’ Sam told Luke on Tuesday evening, as he reached down for the hundredth time to ruffle the Border collie’s ears. ‘I don’t care how much he looks like something from your game.’

  Luke looked disappointed and Sam thanked her lucky stars that Nessie had given her a heads-up about the kind of names he might put forward; the suggestion had been innocent enough, but Sam could just imagine the outright sniggers among the pub’s patrons if they named the poor creature Stumpy.

  ‘Keep thinking,’ Nessie said, with an encouraging nod. ‘If you had a dog of your own what sort of name would you choose?’

  He leaned back against the sofa and screwed up his freckled nose in concentration. ‘If he was a girl, I’d say Twinkle. Like the star in the Star and Sixpence.’

  Sam gazed down at the dog, remembering the way he’d bounded around the village green earlier that day, apparently determined to sniff every blade of grass and greet every passer-by he saw. He was already looking much healthier than he had when she’d first found him; his brown eyes shone and his coat was glossy. But regardless of sex, Twinkle didn’t seem like the right name for him.

  ‘How about Blackheart?’ Luke suggested. ‘After Elijah.’

  He meant the ghost who was rumoured to haunt the pub, dating back to the sixteenth century when it had been a coaching inn and allegedly frequented by one particular highwayman. Sam had spent many nights alone in the building and had never noticed even a hint of a supernatural presence, but she wasn’t above encouraging the rumours for the benefit of ghost-hunting guests in the bed-and-breakfast rooms in the attic.

  ‘But he’s so friendly,’ Nessie said, as the dog thumped his tail on the floor. ‘Blackheart makes him sound like a villain.’

  Luke glanced impatiently around the living room. ‘I don’t know. Spidey. Hawkeye. Steve.’ His eyes brightened. ‘Bucky.’

  ‘Bucky isn’t bad,’ Sam said, slowly. ‘Is that from your game too?’

  ‘No, from the Marvel comics. He’s Steve Rogers’ best friend,’ Luke said, the words tumbling out fast. ‘He’s loyal and protective and looks after him . . .’

  ‘Those are good, dog-like characteristics,’ Sam mused, casting a covert sideways look at Nessie for confirmation.

  ‘And then he gets captured by Hydra and they give him a metal arm,’ Luke said, warming to his theme. ‘He becomes this deadly assassin who no one can defeat, except for Steve when he becomes Captain America. And he almost kills Nick Fury but he escapes at the last minute.’

  ‘Maybe we won’t mention that bit,’ Sam said, laughing. She tilted her head at Nessie. ‘What do you think – is Bucky a good name?’

  Nessie opened her mouth to reply, but the dog cut her off with a single enthusiastic bark. ‘I think that’s a yes,’ she said, grinning. ‘Welcome to the Star and Sixpence, Bucky. I think you’re going to fit right in.’

  Beaming, Luke jumped off the sofa to bury his face in the dog’s black-and-white fur. ‘This is going to be awesome!’

  Sam watched Bucky lick his face and smiled. All they had to do now was convince Laurie . . .

  *

  Laurie’s face was stony when Sam took him to one side later that evening.

  ‘It doesn’t look like I’ve got much choice,’ he said, when she explained. ‘Although an employment tribunal might take a dim view of your actions.’

  She stared at him, genuinely shocked. ‘An employment tribunal? What on earth are you talking about?’

  He shrugged. ‘You failed to ask whether introducing a dog to the workplace
might cause me health problems. For all you know, I might be allergic or have mental health issues that might be triggered by having to face a dog every day.’

  It was so ridiculous that Sam wanted to laugh. And yet she could tell from her brother’s expression that he was serious. ‘You told me you had a pet dog when you were younger,’ she said. ‘I assumed that meant you weren’t allergic to them. Are you?’

  ‘No, but that’s not the point,’ Laurie said, frowning. ‘You didn’t check – you just went ahead with your own plans. And, as it happens, I do like dogs. Just not that dog.’

  Sam shook her head, nonplussed. ‘So you’re going to take us to an employment tribunal over it?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he replied, glaring at her. ‘My point is that you didn’t ask, Sam. It’s like I said the other day – what I want or think doesn’t seem to matter around here. And I’m sick of it. I think you owe me an apology.’

  Sam took in the self-righteous anger behind Laurie’s eyes battling her own irritation. Was that all he wanted – an apology?

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t check with you first,’ she said, after a long calming breath. ‘I’m sorry we overlooked your feelings.’

  His smile was instant, transforming his face from sulky to sunny in less than a heartbeat. ‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  Sam had to dig deep to find an answering smile. It felt thin and insincere. ‘Bucky will be upstairs for the next few days, so he won’t be under your feet.’

  ‘Good,’ Laurie said, turning his back to leave the office with an air of finality. ‘The less our paths cross, the better.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘If it’s no good, you can always send it back.’

  Nessie stopped pushing the steak and kidney pudding around her plate and blinked at Owen. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The food,’ he said, nodding at the fork in her hand. ‘You’ve hardly eaten any of it. Isn’t it up to standard?’

  Nessie felt the start of an embarrassed blush creep up her cheeks. Owen had booked a table at the Prancing Pony on her request, because Gabe had raved about the chef and his menu, and here she was behaving as though the meal she’d been presented with wasn’t melt-in-the-mouth delicious. ‘No, it’s fine,’ she said, glancing guiltily around the busy restaurant in case the staff had noticed her less-than-enthusiastic response. ‘How’s yours?’

  Owen waved a hand at the almost empty plate in front of him. ‘I’ve no complaints.’

  With another wary look at the Friday night diners around them, Nessie took another mouthful of the pudding, savouring the steak that fell apart the moment she began to chew and the suet pastry that had no business being as light as it was. Gabe had been right: the food was to die for. And now she felt even more guilty for giving it, and Owen, less than her full attention.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, once she’d finished chewing. ‘I’m terrible company tonight.’

  Owen’s forehead creased as he regarded her with concern. ‘You couldn’t be bad company if you tried. Quiet, maybe. A little preoccupied.’

  Nessie groaned. ‘I’m sorry. Our first date in over a month and I’m ruining it.’

  ‘Stop,’ Owen said, reaching across the pristine white tablecloth to take her hand. ‘You’re not ruining anything. I know work has been getting on top of you lately – that’s one of the reasons I suggested a night out, to give you some space. And I’m always happy to listen. You know what they say – a problem shared...’

  ‘Is a problem that has two people worrying about it instead of just one,’ Nessie said, but she felt the start of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Maybe talking to Owen about the mountain of mistakes she seemed to be piling up would help to get things in perspective. ‘You’re going to think I’m a total idiot.’

  ‘Never,’ Owen said solemnly, squeezing her fingers.

  ‘Not even when I remind you that I somehow managed to send the same order twice to the brewery,’ Nessie said. ‘Or that I forgot I’d reset the password for their online portal and locked myself out yesterday.’

  Owen sipped his pint. ‘Worse things happen.’

  ‘I haven’t finished,’ Nessie replied, sighing wearily. ‘I gave Gabe the wrong breakfast orders for the B and B guests this morning, and then somehow managed to lose my car keys for almost an hour when it was time to go to the wholesalers. Honestly, I think I might be losing the plot.’

  ‘You’re not losing anything,’ Owen observed thoughtfully, once Nessie had petered out into red-faced silence. ‘You’ve just got too much going on. It’s partly my fault – you’re so good with Luke that I’ve let some of my responsibilities become yours.’

  A wave of discomfort washed over her. ‘No, that’s isn’t what I mean at all – I love looking after Luke.’

  He smiled. ‘I know you do. But there’s no denying you do a lot to keep our lives running smoothly. It used to drive Kathryn crazy when she lived with us – all the things she did that I didn’t even notice. The mental load, she called it.’

  Kathryn was Owen’s irrepressibly blunt younger sister and Nessie could practically hear her explaining the phrase at length.

  ‘What I’m saying is that I don’t want you to feel you have to carry that load,’ Owen went on, his dark eyes warm. ‘Let’s share it.’

  The trouble was that it wasn’t her home life that she needed help with, Nessie thought. But the stresses and strains of running the Star and Sixpence definitely weren’t Owen’s problem and he was offering what he could to help.

  ‘You’re a good man, Owen Rhys,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Not as good as I should be,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘But I’m always happy to raise my game. For you.’

  There was something about the way he looked at her then that sent a tiny shiver of anticipation down Nessie’s spine. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get back to Snowdrop Cottage.

  ‘Your game is already strong,’ she told him, placing her knife and fork together on her plate. ‘Shall we skip dessert?’

  *

  It was still dark when Sam woke up. At first, she wasn’t sure what had disturbed her; the inky blackness was so complete that she knew dawn was still a few hours away. She lay for a few seconds, feeling the baby kick as she waited for her quickened heartbeat to slow down, and the sound of a muffled bark solved the mystery. Bucky had settled in perfectly in the week since Sam and Gabe had collected him and seemed more than happy with his bed in the living room. In fact, Sam thought as another woof broke the silence, this was the first time she’d heard him bark. She frowned; it didn’t sound as though he was in the living room, though. It sounded as though he was—

  ‘Sam?’ Gabe’s voice was low outside her bedroom door. ‘Are you awake?’

  Pushing back the covers, Sam padded across the room. ‘I am now,’ she said, opening the door.

  He stood in a T-shirt and boxer shorts, his cheek still creased from sleep, and Sam felt the usual sharp burst of heat radiate from deep inside her. She’d slept mere centimetres away from that face once, listening to his steady breath punctuate the night and wishing she could put her arms around him. It seemed like a half-remembered dream now, although she often thought of it.

  ‘Bucky is downstairs,’ Gabe said, his expression wary and tense. ‘I think there’s someone in the kitchen.’

  A spike of adrenaline caused Sam’s heart to thud again. ‘Are you sure?’

  Gabe nodded. ‘I can hear them moving around. And Bucky has been barking like crazy for around ten minutes.’

  Sam considered their options. Gabe was tall and strong, but if someone had broken in, she wouldn’t be much help. ‘We should call the police.’

  ‘They won’t get here in time,’ Gabe replied grimly. ‘You wait here – I’ll take Bucky and see if we can scare them off.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Sam said, with a firm shake of her head. ‘At the very least, let me call Owen. He’s only got to cross the yard to be here.’

  ‘No time,’ Gabe whispered,
heading for the stairs that led to the bar. ‘Stay here.’

  Before she could stop him, he was gone, leaving Sam shivering with anxiety. She strained her ears, catching a creak as Gabe reached the bottom of the staircase and a faint whimper from Bucky, then there was silence. A few more seconds ticked by, during which she imagined Gabe grappling with the intruder. Bucky let out a volley of excited barks and suddenly Sam couldn’t stand it any longer. Pausing only to grab her phone from the bedside table, she hurried downstairs as fast as she could.

  The kitchen was fully lit. Gabe stood at the furthest end, gazing into the storeroom, and Bucky was still barking and growling furiously, although all Sam could see of him was his bristling tail. Had the burglar hidden in the cupboard, she wondered as she ventured forward. ‘Gabe? What’s going on?’

  He turned around and she saw his expression was set. ‘We’ve got a big problem,’ he said. ‘Our intruder is a rat.’

  Sam’s mouth fell open in dismay. ‘A rat? But how – when?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea,’ Gabe said. ‘It scurried across the floor when Bucky and I came in here.’

  ‘We’ve never had rats before.’ Sam shook her head. ‘Not even a hint of them.’

  ‘Me either,’ he said. ‘You know I run a clean kitchen – all the food is put away at the end of the night and this store cupboard is usually locked. But tonight, the door was open – I can only assume that’s what attracted our visitor.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Sam asked, her gaze shifting to Bucky. ‘Can we catch it?’

  ‘We are not going to do anything,’ he said, in a tone that suggested no argument. ‘Rats carry diseases, Sam. You are going to wait in the bar while I decide how to trap it until we can get expert advice.’

  An involuntary shiver ran down Sam’s spine. She wasn’t scared of rats, but she had to admit the thought of them scurrying around made her stomach churn. ‘What if there’s more than one?’

  Gabe shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen any evidence of that, but I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, Bucky and I need to deal with this one.’