by Jules Wake
Quite how she resisted the overwhelming urge to gnash her teeth or growl out loud, she didn’t know. Ninety-nine point nine, nine per cent of her would have loved to tell him to get stuffed, but unfortunately there was a stupid niggly, and practical, nought point one per cent that admitted she probably did need help. While she was prepared to have a go at most things, and had got as far as taking out the flimsy-looking jack, which didn’t look as if it were capable of lifting a shoe box let alone a car, those slimy black bolts on the wheel looked completely beyond her.
She gave Will’s tall, slim frame a quick glance. Big mistake. It reminded her that his slender build belied a sinewy muscled strength and, under his clothes, the tautest, toned stomach she’d ever seen. The man had abs. Words died in her throat and she stood there, looking like a complete idiot.
‘Is that a, “Yes, gosh, Will, thanks that would be super”, I hear? Or a “Sod off, I’ve got this?”’ His fake falsetto reminded her exactly why she invested so much effort in avoiding him and his supersized ego and vastly inflated superiority complex.
He’d already approached the rear of her Mini. ‘Christ, how old is this thing? You still have a spare?’
With a determined grimace, she ignored him and dropped down by the wheel to manoeuvre the jack underneath the car, inserting the winding handle, as if she had the first clue what she was doing, saying with outward cheer, ‘No problem, I’ve got this. I can always call the AA if it’s too much trouble.’
As he hoisted the spare out, he muttered something under his breath which sounded distinctly like ‘you’re always too much trouble’.
Without saying anything else, he nudged her out of the way.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered as he set to work, kneeling on the tarmac, its surface wet from a recent shower, his head down as he started cranking up the car. It had been one of those days where the weather couldn’t make up its mind.
‘You here to see Siena?’
‘Yes,’ she answered shortly, glaring down at the stubby blonde ponytail brushing the back of his neck. Grown men shouldn’t have surfer-boy hair and it shouldn’t be sexy. He wasn’t sexy. Or even likeable. But a memory surfaced of that long hair brushing her skin when loose, bringing with it a quick flutter of awareness. The long hair helped create a casual look, when Will was anything but casual, except for his dealings with women.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot and pushed her hands into her pockets. The flutter turned into full-scale butterflies and she froze, praying that none of this was obvious. The butterflies could just sodding well back off and behave. She. Did. Not. Have. Feelings for Will.
With studied nonchalance, she looked around at the rolling green hills surrounding the village nestled in the valley, its line of houses following the ribbon of a stream that flowed down to the River Ouzel. She sighed, the sight soothing her. The pub, despite its ownership, was one of her favourite places. Perched on the edge of the wide green, the sturdy brick-and-timber construction had been in situ for several hundred years, standing guard over the inhabitants with imposing presence.
‘You can go in, if you like.’ Will had raised the car up. ‘Siena’s nearly finished her shift.’
Despite being here to see Siena, it didn’t seem right to abandon Will in the damp car park when he was doing her a favour, even though he was the last person on the planet that she wanted to spend any time with.
‘Do you need any help?’ she asked, with a barely concealed sigh. It was difficult to overcome a lifetime’s training of good manners.
He gave her an amused look.
Then again …
She turned her back on him and surveyed the quiet car park. In less than an hour, the pub would be buzzing. Whatever other faults he had, and there were a gazillion, Will certainly knew how to run a successful business. People came from miles around to eat here.
‘I hear you’re opening a new restaurant. That’ll be nice.’
With one raised eyebrow, he managed to make her regret opening her mouth.
‘I’m just making small talk. It feels a bit bad to abandon you when you’re being all chivalrous and fixing my car for me.’ She shivered, conscious of a light bite to the air. Summer was taking its time to arrive this year.
‘I’ve been waiting for the right location.’
‘Location, location, location,’ she said, not that she had any idea about suitable locations. The street where her tiny terraced house was located in the nearby town wasn’t about to make it onto any television programmes in the des res stakes.
‘It’s important, but I finally found the sweetest spot. The old post-office building on the High Street.’
‘Really? It looks a bit grot.’
‘It won’t by the time I’ve finished.’ Will’s quiet, confident declaration was no idle boast. When they’d lived in the village as teenagers, the pub had been the haunt of elderly men who nursed one pint over endless dominoes marathons. He’d transformed this place.
‘Hmm.’ She didn’t have the imagination for that sort of thing. ‘What sort of food are you going to do?’
‘Authentic Italian. Want to come and work for me?’
‘No thanks …’ Although there was no point cutting her nose off; the extra money would come in handy – as a teaching assistant she was only paid for term-time. ‘Well, maybe in the holidays, but I’m only half Italian, so probably not authentic enough,’ she added.
‘I’m not that fussy.’ He gave a careless shrug. ‘A waitress is a waitress.’
‘Don’t we know it,’ snapped Lisa. With a sniff she flounced off into the pub. He could bloody well get on with it, then.
‘Hey, Lisa.’ Siena tossed down her tea towel and stepped out from behind the bar to give Lisa a swift hug. ‘You looked seriously pissed off.’
‘Flat tyre.’ Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘I got it on the way here.’ And a run-in with her least-favourite person on the planet.
‘Bummer. Do you need to call someone?’ Siena shrugged, with her usual Gallic charm. Although English, she’d spent most of her life in France and had been born with a silver spoon in her red-lipped little bouche. Lisa smiled. She couldn’t imagine Siena even attempting to change a tyre.
‘Will’s changing it for me.’ Lisa flashed her friend a wicked grin.
‘Is he now?’ Siena raised one of her elegantly arched eyebrows, managing to combine surprise and feline amusement with a mere shapely lift.
‘He might as well make himself useful for a change.’ Lisa put down her bag on one of the bar stools and hopped up on the other one. ‘We could be here for a while. I could murder a drink. You don’t mind staying here for a bit, do you?’
‘No, suits me.’ Siena wiped her hands on a tea towel. ‘Might even get a few on the house, if Will’s feeling in a good mood.’
Lisa doubted that even Pollyanna would be hard pressed to maintain a sunny disposition after having changed a tyre.
‘Give me five minutes to finish tidying up in the kitchen and I’ll join you out here. Marcus will get you a drink, won’t you?’ Siena called over to the shaggy bear of a barman, busy replenishing the glass racks from the under-counter dishwasher. ‘Be a sweetie and pour me my usual.’
‘Hey Lisa, babe. How you doing? What’s it to be?’ Marcus spoke with a lovely Edinburgh burr, which Lisa could never get enough of. His accent brought back a vague memory of her mother, who’d been brought up in Scotland. She had a singular recollection of being very young and visiting there and being very put out that she never saw a single man in a kilt. Wasn’t it supposed to be the national costume?
Half-Scottish and half-Italian, she’d barely left Bedfordshire in years. She ought to remedy that one of these days.
‘G&T, please.’
‘I see Siena’s been educating you. What sort of gin do you want? Dorothy Parker, Bombay Sapphire, Hendricks?’
‘Hendricks, with cucumber.’ Lisa grinned at him. ‘I’m getting a taste for it, see, although I’d better stick to one as ther
e’ll be Prosecco at Siena’s and I’m driving in the morning. Can’t overdo it. I’ve got to take Nan for a hospital appointment.’
‘How is the wee battle-axe?’
‘Battling. She’s so rude to the consultant.’
‘At her age, she’s allowed to be.’
‘No, at her age she should know better. Dr Gupta speaks perfectly good English and Nan insists she can’t understand a word he’s saying.’
‘Is he English?’
‘No,’ Lisa giggled. ‘He’s got the strongest Northern Irish accent I’ve ever heard: born and bred in Belfast. She’s being contrary because he’s clearly British despite his name and the colour of his skin.’
‘She’s from a different generation, I guess.’
‘My mum married an Italian; you’d have thought she might have got used to it. There’s no excuse. She’s just being rude.’
Will walked into the pub, wiping his black hands, about half an hour later. ‘All done. I’ve put the spare on. You’ll need to take the other one to the garage, see if it can be repaired or buy a new one.’
‘Thank you. Very much.’ She grimaced. Yeah, she knew about the tyres, but buying a new spare was going to wipe out the pathetic little rainy-day fund she’d scrimped and saved for.
When Siena’s lips twitched, Lisa realised how it had looked. ‘I am … very grateful. Er … can I buy you a drink?’
Will looked at the bar, again with that amused smirk.
‘Okay, you own the place,’ she said. ‘It was a gesture.’
He grinned at her, unabashed, but then, when was he ever abashed – or whatever the opposite was?
As she turned to look away, he said, ‘Do you know what …?’ She frowned.
‘Changing tyres is thirsty work. I’ll have a pint.’ Typical, now he was being contrary.
With a wink at Siena, he added. ‘Married in May will do nicely.’
Siena smiled, leaning back in her chair with one of her cool, unperturbed Gallic shrugs. ‘Tease all you want, it’s Jason’s best-selling beer.’ Her look said it all. She was very proud of her boyfriend, Jason, who’d set up a successful micro-brewery in the barn complex at the back of the pub.
‘I can’t believe he went and named it that. It was meant to be a joke.’ Will nudged Siena. ‘That’s what falling in love does for you. Rots your brain cells. Head over heels! More like arse about tit.’
Siena sipped her gin. ‘Mock all you like. We’re very happy and you … I think, are just jealous.’
‘Jealous. Yeah, right.’ Will sneered, although when he did it to Siena, he did it with a smile. ‘You keep believing that, sweet cheeks.’
‘I will,’ quipped Siena, with her usual insouciance.
Lisa caught Marcus’s eye with a nod and ordered Will’s drink.
‘There you go.’
‘Thank you. And make sure you do get a spare sorted.’
‘Anyone would think you cared,’ said Lisa, raising a deliberately cheeky smile. It wouldn’t do to let Will know how much he needled her.
‘No, I don’t want some poor other sod to spend half an hour getting a wheel off, only to find there’s no spare.’
He always had an answer.
Luckily, he took a few sips of his pint and retreated to prop up the bar and chat to Marcus, far enough away that Lisa could talk to Siena without Will butting in, as he was prone to doing.
‘You’ve got that grumpy “I-hate-Will” face on again,’ said Siena, with her uncanny white-witch sense.
‘No I haven’t. See.’ Lisa plastered a happy smile on her face. She lifted her drink and took a sip. ‘I’m getting a taste for this gin malarkey.’
Siena ignored her attempt to change the subject. ‘Yes, you have. Honestly you two, you’re like a brother and sister, with all the bickering. You shouldn’t let him get to you.’ She gave Lisa a stern look. ‘He’s doing it on purpose, just because he gets a response. Ignore him. He’s like one of those silly schoolboys in the playground.’
Lisa massaged the tight muscle in her right shoulder. ‘I know. He’s an idiot.’
But ignoring him was easier said than done. He did everything he could to wind her up. Regret pinched at her. Once they’d had a bantering, fun friendship, where they’d take the piss out of each other constantly, but after one hideously misjudged night, they’d gone from nought to snide in twenty-four hours. If only it were possible to turn the clock back, she never would have kissed him.
‘Lisa, Lisa, Lisa.’ Giovanni’s sing-song Italian accent rang out across the pub as he loped across the room, a broad smile filling his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. ‘Bellissima. You look bellissima.’
An exaggeration, Lord love him, as she’d come straight from work. Knackered from a day on her feet dealing with a bunch of energy-sapping demons otherwise known as ‘early-years children’, everything drooped and her get up and go had got up and gone, but Giovanni’s blatant, eager charm did good things to her ego, especially with Will in sight.
‘Hey, Giovanni, how you doing?’ She greeted him with a grin.
He gave her an exuberant hug and kisses on each cheek.
‘Glad when your British summer arrives. I have a small little problem with all this rain.’
He lifted his feet to show sodden trouser hems, which had clearly had a bit of a dunking. ‘Piddles everywhere.’
‘Puddles,’ corrected Lisa, stifling a laugh at the disgruntled expression in his dark-brown eyes. ‘Hopefully, the summer will arrive soon. You have to remember all this rain is what makes this country a green and pleasant land.’ She nodded her head towards the view through the French doors. The hillside rose, coated in a blanket of brilliant green, the trees rounded and full like plump broccoli.
‘Hmm,’ said Giovanni, not looking the least bit convinced, but then he flashed his model-boy smile at her. ‘Can I buy you a drink? Are you staying?’ The hopeful look made her pause.
‘Sorry, not tonight.’
When his face fell, she added quickly, ‘I popped in to pick Siena up. Jason’s away. As soon as we finish these, we’re heading back to hers.’ Lisa winked. ‘She’s making me dinner.’
‘Ah,’ Giovanni gave her a mournful puppy-dog look. ‘I miss my mother’s cooking. Home cooking. And female company.’
Lisa laughed and punched him on the arm. ‘Sorry mate, girls’ night. And don’t give me that. You eat here all the time. Don’t let Al hear you say that. He’ll try out one of his concoctions on you.’ Giovanni lived in the flat above the pub and ate with the rest of the staff, including resident-chef Al, who had moments of gastronomic brilliance interspersed with extraordinary creative flashes of culinary lunacy.
Giovanni shuddered. ‘I’m still getting over the beetroot-jelly-and-horseradish-with-beef combination.’ He shot a quick look towards the kitchen before leaning down and whispering with a teasing laugh, ‘Thank goodness Will is opening a proper restaurant with real food.’
‘Yes, he’s got great plans,’ said Siena, arriving back from the ladies, pushing him out of the way and plonking herself down at the table. ‘Although Al is sulking that he doesn’t get to play too.’
Giovanni beamed at her, although Siena had that effect on most men. ‘And I am very thankful for that. He was suggesting pizza kedgeree.’
‘Please don’t tell me …’ Giovanni nodded gleefully. ‘Smoked mackerel and boiled egg.’
‘Yuk,’ chorused both Siena and Lisa.
‘Ah, ladies, I must go.’ Giovanni grinned as Will yelled. ‘Get your arse over here and stop flirting with the help.’
‘The boss is calling.’ With that he shot away, waving his hands in a placating manner that simply made Will scowl even more.
‘My feet are killing me. You might have to carry me out to the car, Lisa.’
‘No chance,’ she responded. ‘I’ve been with the tiddlers in reception class today. Have you seen the size of the chairs in there? My thighs are knackered, crouching down all day. Roll on the school hols.’
/> ‘Yes, you lucky thing. Six whole weeks off.’
Lisa winced. ‘You’re kidding. I was hoping Will might give me a few shifts.’ With a pained sigh, she glanced quickly over Siena’s shoulder. ‘Needs must. God he’s a bad-tempered sod.’
‘Not to me he isn’t,’ said Siena with a sly, piercing look her way, which Lisa ignored.
‘I suppose I’ll have to grovel, but some extra cash would be handy. I might have been able afford to go on holiday, except now it looks as if I’ll have to go tyre-shopping instead.’
At Siena’s amused expression, Lisa poked her in the ribs. ‘Don’t look like that.’
‘You must be desperate,’ teased Siena.
‘I am, believe me.’ She picked at the beer mat on the table. ‘Clearly a case of better the job you know. Besides, I like it here.’ The pub drew people from miles around with its renowned gastro menu. ‘And most of the staff are lovely. No make that all of the staff, with one exception.’
Siena didn’t say a word, just smiled serenely and chinked her glass against Lisa’s. ‘Salut.’
‘Cheers.’
‘What do you think I should do?’
Lisa sat at Siena’s kitchen table, the open ring box in her hand.
‘Keep it,’ said Siena, taking it out of her hand and dancing across the kitchen, holding the ring up to the light so that the diamond sparkled.
‘Really?’ Lisa sat up straighter.
‘No, not really,’ Siena’s mouth turned down in sympathy. ‘It’s gorgeous. That’s a lot of carat.’
Of course, Siena would know.
‘It’s real?’
Siena nodded. ‘I’m pretty sure.’
Lisa had explained the whole story to Siena and although she didn’t voice the bewilderment that her mother hadn’t left the ring to her, Siena had picked up on it and given her hand a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe your mum felt because they’d split up it should go back to his family.’
A lump formed in Lisa’s throat. She was his family. His daughter. Although he’d clearly forgotten that. Anger flared and she lifted her chin. ‘I am family. I’d like to remind him of that.’
He might have forgotten but, she gritted her teeth, when Nan went he would be all the family she had. Goosebumps prickled her skin. Nan had plenty of years left in her. She didn’t need to worry about that just yet.
