Last Words at the Star and Sixpence

by Holly Hepburn

  Predictably, they all disagreed and one suggested she couldn’t be a day over forty, which caused Ruby to hoot with laughter.

  ‘That’s not what my birth certificate says, believe me.’

  ‘Ah, birth certificates,’ Jim snorted derisively. ‘Hardly worth the paper they’re printed on. When I traced my family tree, I found all kinds of mistakes and discrepancies.’

  Was it Nessie’s imagination or did Ruby lean forward? ‘Oh? Is that so?’

  Jim nodded. ‘Mostly to do with handwriting – you’d be amazed at how easy it is to mistake a two for a five on an old, handwritten document. Or an e for an o. That kind of thing. Once, I found entirely the wrong parental name had been recorded. That caused some ructions, let me tell you.’

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fascinating,’ she breathed. ‘Tell me more, Jim.’

  Nessie stared at her in confused amusement as Jim warmed to his theme. Ruby was an incorrigible flirt, but she had a low threshold for boring anecdotes. If she was prepared to listen to someone list his entire family tree, there must be a good reason for her patience, but Nessie had no idea what that might be. She hung around for a few more minutes, in case Ruby flashed her a sign that said she needed to be rescued, but the actress seemed totally engrossed so Nessie made her excuses and headed further into the marquee. If there was one thing she’d learned about Ruby Cabernet, it was that she knew how to extricate herself from any situation that had lost its sparkle.

  She found Kathryn and her bandmates doing their final preparations before their set at nine o’clock.

  ‘You haven’t seen Micky, have you?’ Kathryn asked, peering over Nessie’s shoulder into the crowds. ‘We haven’t agreed the set list yet.’

  Nessie frowned. ‘He’s over by the Somerset Scrumpy stall, I think. Want me to send him your way?’

  ‘Would you?’ Kathryn threw her a harried look as she tuned her violin. ‘I know he’s used to winging it like the true rock and roll legend he is, but we’re not!’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Nessie promised.

  Once she’d delivered Micky, Nessie set about finding Owen. She’d spent most of the day on her feet, running from one piece of festival business to the next, and she had barely seen him or Luke all day. But there was one promise she’d made to Owen that she intended to keep; once Sonic Folk started to play, she would get two pints of ice-cold cider and dance the rest of the night away with him.

  She found him on the edge of the dance floor, two pints in hand.

  ‘Great minds think alike,’ he said, lifting the glasses he carried.

  She laughed as she joined him and took a long gulp from one of her own pints. ‘I’m sure we’ll cope.’

  Sonic Folk were every bit as brilliant as Nessie remembered – better, in fact; all the months on tour were showing and they played with the ease of familiarity and practice. Kathryn’s vocals were excellent too – melodic, throaty or plaintive in turn. Once or twice, Nessie observed Micky throw an unexpected spanner in the works, but the other musicians adapted with lightning-speed and she doubted many people in the audience even noticed. The band ran through a playlist of crowd-pleasing covers and well-known classics that soon had people up and dancing, and Micky’s rasping voice caused ripples of appreciation when he sang some of The Flames greatest hits. Nessie spotted Sam and Joss tapping their feet in the crowd, and wondered briefly whether Gabe was there too, but she soon gave up trying to spot anyone and let her herself enjoy the music.

  Owen put his arms around her and pulled her close. ‘Come and dance with me, wife-to-be.’

  Nessie reached up to plant a soft kiss on his lips and tasted apples. ‘Happily, husband-to-be.’

  ‘We’ll tell Kathryn and Luke tomorrow, shall we?’ he said, as they swayed to the music. ‘And then it doesn’t have to be a secret any more.’

  Nessie snuggled against his shoulder and closed her eyes. ‘Yes, I’d like that. Please don’t think I’m shallow but I can’t wait to start wearing my ring!’

  *

  The heatwave showed no sign of abating after the weekend. Monday morning dawned bright and sunny and by lunchtime, Sam was dreaming of frost and snow.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ she told Joss as he handed her an ice-cold glass of water. ‘You don’t have an additional heating system on the go.’

  ‘Never mind, at least it’s Midsummer’s Day,’ he said, cheerfully leaning against the fridges that lined the back of the bar. ‘Soon be winter again.’

  ‘Can’t come soon enough for me,’ Sam grumbled, but she felt guilty even saying it. Part of her bad mood was due to being too hot, but most of her grumpiness had been brought on as the cider festival progressed: everywhere she’d looked, she seemed to see glamorous women in pretty summer dresses, sipping cider and having a wonderful time. And then she had caught sight of herself, frizzy-haired, frumpy and definitely not drinking cool pints of cider, and she’d wanted to cry. It didn’t matter that there was a very good explanation for all of those things, or that she only had two more months of pregnancy to go. What mattered, when she was wallowing in her pit of heat-induced misery, was that she was pregnant right now. And she couldn’t complain to Nessie, who would always be silently wishing her own pregnancy hadn’t ended so tragically, so she’d suffered in sullen silence and escaped to bed as soon as she could on Sunday evening.

  ‘No Gabe today?’ Joss asked, glancing at the closed door that led to the restaurant kitchen.

  ‘It’s his day off,’ Sam said. She puffed a sticky strand of hair off her forehead. ‘And no, I don’t know where he’s gone.’

  Joss raised an eyebrow at her irritable tone. ‘Why should you know? You’re not joined at the hip.’

  She didn’t like to say that Gabe’s absence was another reason she felt out of sorts. They’d barely spoken since their conversation in the marquee on Friday evening and the weekend had flown by so fast that she’d barely had time to think. It wasn’t until she’d gone to the kitchen for breakfast this morning and found it conspicuously empty of Gabe that her mood had sunk to its lowest point. It wasn’t that she begrudged him his time off, more that she’d grown used to seeing him every morning, even when he wasn’t working. She missed him.

  ‘Of course we’re not,’ she said to Joss, frowning as a wave of fuzziness washed across her vision. ‘It’s just . . .’

  He studied her in sudden concern. ‘Are you okay? You’ve gone very pale.’

  Pins and needles prickled at her fingers and her tongue felt too large for her mouth. ‘No, I think I’m going to—’

  She made a grab for the smooth wood of the bar as her legs buckled, but her fingers slid off the edge and she would have hit the floor hard if Joss hadn’t caught her. ‘

  Sorry,’ she mumbled, digging her fingers into his T-shirt in an effort to stay upright.

  ‘Easy, now. Let’s get you sitting down.’

  Concerned customers hurried to help and, together with Joss, they guided Sam to a seat.

  ‘Here,’ he said, pressing the glass of cold water to her lips. ‘Sip this.’

  The coolness made Sam’s dizziness recede a bit. Her vision cleared and she blinked at the circle of worried faces, embarrassed and feeling more than a little silly. ‘Sorry,’ she said again, more distinctly this time. ‘I think I must have overheated.’

  ‘A woman in your delicate condition needs to take better care of herself,’ Henry said, his white moustache bristling as he surveyed Sam. ‘If Franny was here, she’d order you to bed.’

  ‘And who would argue with Franny?’ Joss observed. ‘There’s a fan in your room, it might help you to cool down.’

  Sam didn’t want to go, but she suddenly felt overcome with tiredness. And at least if she was upstairs she wouldn’t be surrounded by anxious onlookers. ‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll go for a lie-down.’

  ‘Keep an eye on the bar, will you, Henry?’ Joss said, helping Sam to her feet. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  By the time they reached
the top of the stairs, Sam could hardly keep her eyes open. She lay on the bed without a murmur, blinking sleepily as Joss switched the fan on and positioned it so that it would cool her down as she rested. She was almost asleep when she felt his lips brush her forehead. ‘Sleep well, Sam,’ he whispered, drawing a sheet across her. ‘Sleep well, baby.’

  She wanted to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come. And then she tumbled into darkness and it was too late.

  *

  ‘No, Bucky!’

  Nessie was in the kitchen of Snowdrop Cottage on Thursday evening, washing up after dinner, when she heard Luke shouting. At first, she assumed he and Bucky were playing, but the undertone of panic caught her attention; if it was a game, something was badly wrong. Dropping the saucepan into the sink, she hurried to the back door and wrenched it open.

  ‘Luke? Where are you? What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s Bucky,’ Luke called back, from what sounded like the beer garden of the pub. ‘He’s got something he shouldn’t have – come quickly!’

  She did as he asked. As she rounded the corner of Owen’s forge, she wondered briefly whether she should pull back the door to fetch him but there was a real risk he might be handling molten metal. She decided to see what the problem was first; no point in disturbing him if whatever Bucky had found turned out to be harmless.

  Amid the fading sunlight of the deserted beer garden, it wasn’t immediately obvious what Luke was upset about. He and Bucky were facing each other, but the dog’s gaze wasn’t fixed on the boy. There was something on the grass just behind Luke. And whatever it was, Bucky wanted it.

  Nessie walked slowly forwards, taking care not to startle the dog. ‘What is that on the floor behind you, Luke?’

  His face was pale and unhappy. ‘Some kind of smelly meat. Bucky went into the bushes to fetch the ball and came back with this in his mouth. I made him drop it, but he wasn’t very happy and keeps trying to eat it.’

  She squinted at the object and saw patches of livid red in amongst its coating of dust. Where on earth had it come from? she wondered. And, more to the point, what was she going to do with it? A lump of raw meat was probably the kind of treat Bucky would enjoy, but until they knew exactly where it had come from, and where it had been, she wasn’t going to risk feeding it to the dog.

  Leaning against the wall of the pub was the thick-bristled broom they used to sweep the outdoor smoking area. Nessie reached out an arm to take it and edged round Luke to drag the meat towards her. The dog tensed, as though preparing to pounce.

  ‘Bucky,’ Nessie said, hoping her voice was stern and forbidding. ‘No. Leave it, Bucky. Sit.’

  He whined but did as she commanded.

  A second later, the meat was at her feet. Nessie peered downward. ‘It looks like steak.’

  Gabe materialised in the back door of the Star and Sixpence. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Everything is under control,’ Nessie said. ‘I just need something to put this lump of meat in before Bucky gobbles it up in one bite.’

  Understanding dawned on Gabe’s face and he vanished for a few long seconds. When he returned, he was carrying a thick blue plastic bag. ‘Here,’ he said, passing it to Nessie. ‘If you put this on your hand like a mitten, you won’t even have to touch it.’

  She kept her eyes on Bucky as she slowly bent to scoop his prize into the plastic and let out an audibly relieved sigh when it was no longer in temptation’s way.

  ‘Can I see?’ Gabe asked.

  Nessie passed him the bag. ‘Be my guest.’

  Opening the bag a fraction, he stared downwards. Then he put his nose nearer to the top and sniffed with care. ‘It is steak,’ he said, shutting the bag with a sharp rustle. ‘With a dressing of something that smells a lot like rat poison.’

  Instantly, Nessie’s heart was in her mouth. ‘Did you touch it, Luke?’

  Eyes wide, Luke shook his head. ‘No. But Bucky did. He carried it in here.’

  Nessie turned a concerned gaze onto the dog; he looked perfectly normal, but she knew rat poison was slow-acting and even a small amount could prove lethal. ‘Someone needs to tell Sam she’d better call the emergency vet. And, Luke, you need to wash your hands, right now.’

  ‘But—’ Luke started to say, but Nessie was in no mood for arguments.

  ‘Now, Luke. And use soap. Plenty of it.’

  ‘I’ll go and give Sam the bad news,’ Gabe said, his expression grim.

  Nessie threw him a grateful look. ‘Thank you. Let’s hope Emily hasn’t finished for the day and can squeeze in a house call.’ She glanced at the bag he held in disgust. ‘What I don’t understand is where the wretched meat came from.’

  ‘I can answer that,’ Gabe said over one shoulder as he went in search of Sam. ‘It came from my fridge. I had a plate of sirloin there ready for tonight’s menu and I noticed earlier today that one was missing.’

  Nessie felt her mouth drop in a horrified circle as she worked out what that meant. Rats couldn’t open fridges and they certainly didn’t use poison as a dip. A human being had taken the steak and doused it in poison. The question was, who?

  Chapter Eight

  At first, Emily thought Bucky might need his stomach pumped.

  ‘I’ll try to induce vomiting first,’ she said, ‘but if he won’t, then we’ll have to take him into the practice for treatment.’

  Thankfully, Bucky had obliged in the most disgusting way, by throwing up everything he’d eaten in the previous few hours. Emily had then compounded his misery by giving him activated charcoal to eat to absorb any remaining toxins. And then several anxious days had rolled past, during which Sam and the rest of the Star and Sixpence team watched for any of the terrifying symptoms caused by poisoning. By the time his check-up came round the following Tuesday, Emily happily reported to Sam and Joss that the dog had escaped his experience unscathed.

  ‘He had a lucky escape,’ the vet said, ruffling Bucky’s silky ears. ‘I don’t suppose you ever worked out how it happened, did you?’

  Sam sighed. The problem was that it had to have been a deliberate action by someone who worked at the Star and Sixpence, and neither she nor Nessie were keen to throw unsubstantiated accusations around when there was little or no chance of uncovering any proof. ‘Not really, no,’ she told Emily. ‘Probably just a mix up.’

  ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’ Joss asked Sam as they drove back to Little Monkham. ‘Who could possibly have left a chunk of poisoned steak lying around for Bucky to find?’

  Sam shrugged; she hadn’t shared her suspicions with anyone so far and she wasn’t about to start now. ‘No idea.’

  Joss frowned and cast a sideways look her way. ‘It’s certainly a strange thing to do. I must admit, I’d feel better about going back to Chester next week if we knew who the culprit was.’

  ‘Whoever it was, I don’t think any humans were the target,’ she said, choosing her words with care. ‘I think we’ll all be safe enough.’

  ‘That’s not what worries me,’ Joss replied as he manoeuvred the car off the main road and down the narrow lane that led to the village. ‘It’s the collateral damage that scared me – the unintended consequences. What if Luke had touched it and forgotten to tell anyone? What if you had?’

  Both were thoughts that had occurred to Sam and Nessie and Gabe as they’d talked things through in the immediate aftermath of the drama. But they’d all agreed that events had probably scared the would-be poisoner and a repeat performance was unlikely. ‘No one got hurt,’ she told Joss firmly. ‘Bucky is okay. Honestly, there’s no need for you to worry.’

  Joss grunted in acknowledgement then was silent for several long seconds. ‘I’m going to miss you when I leave.’

  Sam hesitated. The truth was she’d got used to having Joss around; she would miss him too. But Connor would soon be back from holiday, meaning Joss would be surplus to requirements, and he had his own job at Castle Court to consider. And, quite apart from anything else, ther
e wasn’t anywhere for him to stay at the Star and Sixpence; the sofa was fine as a short-term solution, but it couldn’t work for more than a few weeks. Her mind slipped back to the conversation she’d had with Gabe at the cider festival, causing a stab of disquiet – the last thing she wanted was for him to feel pressured into moving out because of Joss.

  ‘I’ll miss you too,’ she finally said to Joss. ‘But the baby will be here in a couple of months and we’ll see more than enough of each other then.’

  He glanced at her ever-growing bump and shook his head. ‘Two months. It doesn’t seem possible, does it?’

  ‘No,’ Sam replied. ‘It only seems like five minutes since I came to Chester to give you the news.’

  ‘But I bet the time will fly by,’ Joss went on. ‘I’ll need to hand my notice in soon and start looking round for somewhere to live nearer to the Star and Sixpence.’

  This was it, Sam realised, the moment to tell him what Gabe had suggested. But once she’d put that out there, there would be no going back. ‘Purdon is nice.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Joss said and puffed out his cheeks. ‘There are lots of lovely villages. The trouble is, none of them are quite as nice as Little Monkham.’

  Sam gnawed on her lip and fixed her gaze on the scenery flashing by. ‘You’ll find somewhere.’

  He sighed. ‘Yeah, I’m sure I will. I’ve got time after all.’

  *

  The hot weather finally broke in the first days of July. In some ways, Nessie was sorry when she awoke to the gentle patter of raindrops against the bedroom window, but she knew the parched grass on the green would be grateful. Sam would be relieved too; Nessie had watched her struggle with the soaring temperatures and, perhaps for the first time, didn’t envy her sister’s pregnancy.

  Luke was less impressed by the grey skies.

  ‘He grumbled for the entire journey,’ Owen said, when he returned from the school run. ‘You’d think he’d never seen rain before.’

  ‘It has been a while,’ Nessie said, pouring him a cup of tea and placing it on the kitchen table.