‘Still, her loss is my gain.’ He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. ‘Martha told me earlier that she Googled a few reviews of the book and read the last few pages. A tenner says Franny rumbles her by the end of the evening.’
Nessie laughed. ‘I don’t think you’ll find anyone in Little Monkham crazy enough to take that bet. Franny makes Sherlock look slow on the uptake sometimes.’
She placed his drink on the bar. He took a sip then glanced around as though looking for someone. ‘Are you on your own tonight?’
Was he asking where Patrick was, Nessie wondered, or Sam? ‘Yes. It’s Connor’s night off and Sam is upstairs working on a press release. Did you hear we’d won the Real Ale Drinkers’ Regional Pub of the Year award?’
‘No,’ Owen replied, looking delighted. ‘But I’m not surprised. Does Franny know?’
‘Not yet. I think Sam wants to keep it for protection in case we do something to annoy her within the next few weeks.’
Owen laughed. ‘Good plan. Distraction is often the best way with Franny.’
He looked around again and seemed to be about to ask her something else when Franny’s imperious voice rang out. ‘Owen, are you here to talk books or to romance the landlady?’
Mouth twisting with amusement, Owen gave Nessie an apologetic shrug and made his way over to the table, where Henry clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I didn’t know the second one was an option,’ he said.
‘Not for you, it isn’t,’ Franny said, peering over her wire glasses sternly. She held up a copy of the book, neatly divided by different coloured Post-it notes. ‘Now, let’s get down to business. Who thought the hero was a spoiled, whining moron?’
The discussion began to flow and things were just getting heated between Franny and Ruby when there was a loud click and the room was plunged into darkness.
Nessie hissed in irritation. The electrics had been temperamental when they’d first moved into the Star and Sixpence and they’d spent a small fortune having the building rewired. But this was the second time the switch had tripped this month. ‘Don’t panic, everyone,’ she called, fumbling under the bar. ‘I’ve got a torch here somewhere.’
The fridges had stayed on, as had the beer pumps, so Nessie knew it wasn’t a power cut. In the light from the fire, she saw Owen get up and make his way towards her. ‘Need any help?’
‘Not unless you’ve got a torch on you,’ Nessie replied. ‘There’s no way I’m going down those cellar steps in the dark – a-ha!’
She pulled out a thin black cylinder and switched it on. A beam of light cut through the gloom. ‘Come on then,’ she told Owen. ‘You can teach me the ways of the fuse box, oh wise one.’
It was strange being in the cellar with Owen. Nessie was careful to keep her distance but she couldn’t stay too far away or he’d be left in total darkness. They edged their way down the stairs, navigated around the barrels and past the stacked boxes of wine for Oktoberfest to reach the furthest corner. Once there, Owen flicked up the plastic casing and ran his fingers across the switches until he found the problem. Suddenly the cellar was full of light and both Owen and Nessie found themselves blinking.
‘It’s usually this middle one,’ Owen said, pointing to a small plastic lever that looked like all the others. ‘That’s the one that controls the lights.’
Nessie sighed. ‘I thought the electricians had fixed this when they put the new lights in.’
‘They probably did,’ Owen said, shrugging. ‘But sometimes the switches just trip for no apparent reason.’
‘And sometimes they have a very good reason,’ Nessie added. ‘We’ll keep an eye on things, thanks.’
She started to turn away but Owen touched her arm. ‘Before you go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’
Nessie felt her heartbeat quicken. Was he going to ask her about Patrick? Or – her heart stuttered – was he going to ask her out? ‘Go on,’ she said warily.
Owen gazed down at her. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware but there’s a very good meteor shower due about halfway through October. They’re called the Orionids, and Kathryn, Luke and I usually head out around midnight to watch them from one of the fields away from the light pollution of the village.’
Nessie frowned. She’d heard of the other meteor shower, the one that usually happened in August, but she hadn’t thought to go outside to watch them.
‘And since Kathryn can’t make it this year, Luke wondered – well, both of us really – we wondered whether you might like to come stargazing with us.’
Nessie hesitated. It sounded wonderful but a night beneath the stars seemed like a romantic thing to do and she wasn’t sure she could handle any more confusion right now. Then again, Luke would be there and after Owen’s reaction the last time they’d spoken, Nessie was almost certain romance was the last thing on his mind.
‘You could bring Patrick if you wanted to,’ he said, flattening any remaining worries Nessie had about his intentions.
‘Can I think about it?’ she asked. Then she replayed the words in her head and cringed. ‘I don’t mean I want to think about bringing Patrick – I can’t, he’s gone back to Surrey. I meant I want to think about going with you. We’ve got Oktoberfest this weekend and then Sam will be busy organising the Halloween ball so I’ll probably be busier than normal.’
‘I understand,’ Owen said. He paused and Nessie wondered if he was going to dig further about Patrick. But he smiled instead. ‘It would be lovely if you could join us but even if you don’t come, can I ask you to cross your fingers for clear skies? It’s no fun watching the stars in a storm.’
Amen to that, Nessie thought as she climbed the stairs back to the bar. The last thing they needed was more choppy weather, either inside or outside their relationship.
Chapter Five
‘Ooh, I bet he’s going to introduce you to the big dipper!’ Sam exclaimed the next morning when Nessie told her the news over breakfast.
Nessie gave her a level look. ‘Really, Sam, is there any sexual innuendo you won’t stoop to?’
‘Nope,’ Sam said with an unrepentant grin. ‘You keep setting them up and I’ll keep knocking them out of the park. But sitting out under the stars is very romantic, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Luke will be there,’ Nessie pointed out.
‘That’s where snuggling under blankets comes into its own,’ Sam said. ‘They cover a multitude of sins.’
‘It’s not a date,’ Nessie insisted. ‘Owen made that very clear. He even invited Patrick.’
Sam sighed. What was it with her sister and Owen? They seemed to go out of their way to invent reasons not to be together. It was maddening. ‘He was being polite. You did kind of suggest you might get back together with Patrick.’
‘But I didn’t mean it!’ Nessie protested, going red. ‘I just wanted to make him jealous, that’s all.’
Sam regarded her sister with a mixture of amusement and affection. ‘You’re my sister and I love you, Nessie, but you’re terrible at this kind of thing. Honesty is the best policy here – just tell Owen the truth.’
Nessie put her head in her hands. ‘I don’t know what to say. It was easier when I thought all Patrick wanted was me but now I know about all his other problems it’s harder to walk away.’
Sam frowned. She was beginning to wonder whether she’d severely underestimated her brother-in-law. He was turning out to be more manipulative than she’d thought. ‘Do you still love Patrick?’
‘No,’ Nessie said without hesitation. ‘I mean, I still care about him, obviously. But I’m not in love with him.’
‘Then don’t you think you should let him find someone who is?’ Sam asked, her voice gently reproachful. ‘The longer he keeps hoping you’ll rescue him, the longer it will be before he sorts himself out and moves on.’
Nessie stared at her wordlessly for a moment, then nodded. ‘You’re right.’
‘And that frees you up to follow your own heart, wit
h Owen,’ Sam went on. ‘You deserve to be happy too.’
Her sister’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I know.’
Sam squeezed her arm. ‘Tell Owen everything,’ she said. ‘And do it soon, before he convinces himself you’ve slipped away. Then you can let the stars work their magic and we can all breathe a sigh of relief.’
Friday lunchtime arrived faster than Sam would have liked, and with it the final preparations for Oktoberfest. She finished draping the red, yellow and black material across the pub ceiling and stepped down from the stepladder.
‘What do you think?’ she asked Connor, who’d been steadying the ladder while she worked. ‘Does this say “Bavarian Beer Tent” to you?’
The cellarman gazed around thoughtfully, taking in the colourful drapes, the red and white checked tablecloths on the long trestle tables and the distinctly Germanic decorations adorning the walls. He grunted. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to wear Lederhosen.’
‘No more than I’ll be dressed as a beer wench,’ Sam said, pulling a face. ‘I have got us all hats, though. How are the kegs looking?’
One end of the pub had been taken over by a row of steel barrels, manhandled into place by Connor and each filled with authentic German ales. Customers bought tokens at the bar, which Connor would then exchange for a foaming stein of beer. A gazebo had been set up in the garden where visitors could try a variety of different bratwurst and sauerkraut. It was shaping up to be a great weekend but Sam knew Connor was worried about the temperamental Bavarian barrels. A beer festival was only as good as its beer, after all.
‘They’re okay,’ Connor said. ‘Tasting good, which is the important thing.’
Sam made her way behind the bar and fired up the playlist of traditional oompah band music she’d compiled especially for the Oktoberfest weekend. Connor looked pained.
‘Do we have to listen to this all weekend?’
Sam nodded. ‘Of course. When in Bavaria, Connor . . .’
The cellarman muttered about ear plugs and wandered over to the beer barrels. Wait until he heard the oompah cover versions she’d slipped in here and there, Sam thought with a grin. Britney’s Toxic had never sounded so good.
Trade built up steadily from lunchtime to a decent-sized crowd by around five-thirty. As the evening went on, Sam was pleased to see many of the village regulars among the throng – Owen, Franny and Henry, Martha’s husband, Rob, and a couple of the lads from the butcher’s next door, as well as some less familiar faces – sampling the Oktoberfest delights. Even Father Goodluck put in an appearance and Sam was glad to see him. He’d been supportive of Sam and her sister and often did the scoring for the monthly quiz night. Knowing he had a soft spot for Guinness, Sam encouraged him to try one of the darker German ales and was delighted by the grin that split his face.
‘Excellent, Sam,’ he said, taking another long swig. ‘Truly delicious.’
She was so busy that she didn’t see Joss come in. It wasn’t until Nessie nudged her and nodded towards the bar that Sam noticed he was there, with a pretty brunette on his arm. The sight of him there, with what was obviously a new girlfriend, was like a sledgehammer into Sam’s stomach. You’re over him, she reminded herself, trying not to stare at his freshly shaven face. Joss had always had a beard, well-kept but not too groomed, and it was one of the things that had attracted Sam to him. She found it very odd to see him without it now, like he’d somehow forgotten to get fully dressed that morning. He looked younger, more boyish, as though he’d lost five years off his age. Sam wasn’t sure she liked it.
‘Who’s that he’s with?’ Nessie whispered during a brief lull in trade.
Sam risked another glance, pretty sure she’d never seen the girl before. She couldn’t live in Little Monkham, she decided, unless she’d been hiding under a rock for the last ten months or so. Whoever she was, it meant Joss was happy and moving on, which Sam knew should have made her glad – things hadn’t worked out between them but she didn’t bear him any ill-will. The trouble was she didn’t feel glad. The trouble was her immediate reaction had been quite a different emotion, one she recognised immediately: jealousy.
She gave herself a mental shake. ‘I don’t know but she looks nice.’
Nessie slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Courage, Sam. I know it’s hard.’
Sam blinked hard against the sudden rush of heat behind her eyes. ‘He looks happy, don’t you think?’
‘He looks different,’ her sister said, raising her eyebrows. ‘What on earth possessed him to shave off his beard?’
‘Maybe his new girlfriend doesn’t like it,’ Sam suggested, remembering how soft and silky the blond hair had felt beneath her fingers. ‘Some women hate them.’
‘He looks about twelve,’ Nessie replied, with a dismissive shake of her head. ‘It’s a good job he doesn’t work behind the bar any more – no one would believe he was old enough.’
Worried he would catch them staring, Sam changed the subject and did her best to push Joss out of her mind, something that was helped by an unexpected arrival just before nine o’clock.
‘Nick!’ Sam exclaimed as he appeared before her at the bar. ‘What are you doing here?’
He grinned at her, causing audible sighs from several nearby women, and shrugged. ‘What can I say? I missed you and you made it very clear you couldn’t leave the pub this weekend so . . . here I am.’
Sam felt her spirits lift. He’d been filming in Cornwall again and must have driven for hours to reach her. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she admitted with a smile. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
He lifted his bag. ‘Actually, I think I’d like you to show me to my room.’
She shook her head. ‘You mean my room?’
‘Nope,’ Nick said, his grin widening. ‘I mean my room. If you check your bookings, I think you’ll find the four-poster room is reserved for a Mr Turner, who said he’d be checking in late – around nine o’clock?’
Nessie gasped. ‘It is – I was just wondering where he was.’
Nick fixed his eyes on Sam. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’
Sam had never seen so many women swoon at once. She gazed into his dark eyes and felt something inside her shift. It was very good to see him. ‘You’ve certainly achieved that,’ she said, smiling. ‘Come on, I’ll show you the way.’
Nessie winked as she walked past. ‘Don’t rush back.’
The lights were low in the four-poster guest room. Nessie must have sneaked up at some point in the last hour, Sam realised, because there was a bottle of Prosecco on ice in the antique champagne bucket by the bed and fresh cookies on the table beneath the window.
Nick dropped his bag by the door and ran a hand over his stubbly chin. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he said in an uncertain voice. ‘Me just turning up out of the blue like this, I mean?’
Sam stared at him. She’d never seen him unsure before; Nick Borrowdale was usually supremely confident in everything he did. ‘Why would I mind? I love having you here and God knows, you’re good for business.’
‘Yes, but I’ve never turned up uninvited before,’ he said. ‘I’ve booked the room for tomorrow as well but I don’t have to stay, not if you’d rather I went.’
She let out an astonished laugh. ‘Of course you can stay. Bloody hell, Nick, what’s got into you? You’re acting like a lovesick teenager.’
He smiled and a touch of his trademark smoothness returned. ‘Sorry. It’s been a long week.’
Sam crossed the room and reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Tell me about it. But seeing you makes everything better.’
He gazed at her for a moment. ‘Good. Now, I suppose we’d better get back downstairs before Franny decides we’re up to something naughty.’
His eyes lingered on hers for a fraction too long, just enough to remind Sam of the nights they’d spent together in the past, and she realised with a jolt that something naughty was exactly what she felt like getting up to. She shook the thought away and summone
d up a smile. ‘Don’t. I’m pretty sure some of the village women are sticking pins into an effigy of me already over you.’
He nodded at the bottle in the champagne bucket. ‘Are you going to help me to drink that?’
Sam hesitated. Prosecco and Nick were a dangerous combination. ‘Ask me again later.’
Nick’s mouth quirked into a smile, his confidence obviously restored. ‘Don’t worry, I will.’
Sam knew Joss would be watching her when she came back downstairs with Nick. They hadn’t been gone long enough to be accused of anything – not that it was any of Joss’s business anyway – but she still felt his gaze burning into her. He’d always suspected there was more to her relationship with Nick than she admitted, had never accepted the two of them were just friends no matter how many times Sam had tried to reassure him. She supposed he must be taking a grim satisfaction in seeing the newspaper photos of her and Nick together now, congratulating himself on being right. Let him, she decided. He’d made his choice when he’d walked out.
Nick, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have noticed Joss was there; he was too busy charming the rest of the villagers. Sam saw Joss and his new girlfriend leave not long after – sour grapes, she wondered, or fear that he might lose another girlfriend to the actor.
It took longer than usual to get everyone to leave at closing time but eventually the bar was empty. Nick nodded at Connor.
‘I’m amazed Sam hasn’t got you in costume,’ he said, smirking. ‘A big lad like you in leather would certainly bring in the ladies.’
Connor grinned. ‘I’m not sure the wife would approve.’
Sam shook her head. ‘We’re saving the costumes for the masked ball and letting the beer do the talking this weekend.’ She fixed Nick with a look. ‘Speaking of costumes, do you know what you’re planning to wear?’
Nick tapped his nose. ‘It’s a surprise.’
‘Only, a few of the village ladies have asked whether you’d be prepared to recreate the topless scene from Smugglers’ Inn and I said I’d ask,’ Sam said innocently.
Autumn at the Star and Sixpence Page 4
