Relief Valve: The Plumber's Mate, Book 2

by JL Merrow

“Oh. Okay. Cheers, Sis.”

  Gary watched her go. “I always thought she hated me,” he said, cradling his martini glass.

  “What? Cherry? Nah, never,” I said and took a long swig of my pint so my face wouldn’t give me away.

  I almost had Gary talked round to giving Darren a call, when there was a commotion at the door.

  Darren. Bloody hell, he had guts, turning up here. He strode into the pub like he owned the place, all four foot six of him, and stood glowering at me and Gary, his hands on his hips. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry pause in wiping down the bar. Like any good landlady, she had an eye for potential trouble, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to sling Darren, quite literally, out on his arse if the situation called for it.

  Darren stomped over to our corner. I was expecting him to come out with something belligerent like Hands off my bloke, pint-size, but his face softened and what he actually said was, “You all right, muffin?”

  Gary sniffed and said “Fine,” in classic No-I’m-not tones.

  “Sweetheart, if it’s that important to you, I’ll get married in fairy wings and a fucking sparkly thong, all right?”

  God, I hoped Gary wasn’t going to take him up on that. He’d already asked me to be his best man, and there was only so much my eyes could take.

  “Really?” Gary asked, in a tiny, hopeful voice. Julian whined in sympathy.

  Darren nodded. “Really. Nothing’s more important to me than my sugar-muffin’s happiness, you got that?”

  Harry’s posture relaxed, and she went back to wiping the bar as Gary stood and embraced his fiancé. There was a smattering of applause and a couple of wolf whistles from the regulars—all of whom know Gary well—and I might even have felt a slight prickling at the corner of my eye.

  It was probably Darren’s aftershave, mind.

  As the kiss carried on, someone yelled “Get a room!” and I fully expected our two turtledoves to follow the suggestion and disappear off home for some make-up sex. But instead, when they finally separated, Darren announced the drinks were on him and swaggered off to the bar.

  Gary excused himself to splash a bit of cold water on his face. Well, what he actually said he was going to do was powder his nose, but I was fairly sure he didn’t mean that literally. I hoped.

  “Well, all’s well that ends well,” Cherry said brightly, coming back over with her drink and mine. I could see she was itching to leave but was too polite with the large glass of Shiraz Darren had bought her in her hand.

  “I bloody wish,” Darren grumbled. He carefully positioned Gary’s martini dead centre on a beer mat and sat down at the table, pint in hand.

  “Sore loser?” I said with a wink to show I was only teasing.

  “Something like that.” Darren took a long swallow of his pint. “See, you’ve gotta know where I’m coming from, right? God knows I love my pumpkin—worship the bloody ground he walks on—but the plain fact is, he’s not going to look his best in a white suit. You think he’s going to be happy when he gets the wedding video back and he’s got an arse on ’im that could sink the bleedin’ Titanic?”

  I pursed my lips and thought about the arse in question. It looked okay, more or less, in relaxed-fit black denim, but yeah, now I came to actually picture it in tailored white trousers… “Fair dues, you’ve got a point. Trouble is, how are you going to convince him without actually coming out and saying it?”

  “Buggered if I know. Nah, I’m stuck with it now. Can’t risk upsetting him again over the same bloody issue. Maybe I can delete the file before he sees it. At least the photos will all be from the front.”

  It was a practical solution, but I could see a major flaw there. “Yeah, but Gary’s going to be gutted not to be able to watch himself starring in a movie with you.”

  Darren shrugged. “Ain’t like it’s the first one.”

  “Bet it’s the first one he could show to his mum, though.”

  “Well, she’s pretty broad-minded… Nah, you’re right. Bugger.”

  Cherry stood up abruptly. “I’ll see you in a minute.” She took her glass with her, and seconds later, cut Gary off at the pass and manoeuvred him to the bar.

  Darren looked at me. “What the bleedin’ hell’s that all about?”

  “Don’t ask me.” I shrugged. “Maybe she wants to apologise for the last time she met him. They didn’t get on all that well.”

  “You reckon? Nah, don’t believe it. I mean, look at ’im.”

  I looked. Cherry and Gary were at the bar, her perching on a bar stool and him standing, hip cocked and wrist limp, in a parody of a pose I reckoned he must have bought at Queens’R’Us.

  “See that?” Darren went on. “Who could look at that and not love ’im?”

  I took a sidelong glance at Darren. He’d gone a bit misty about the eyes, and there was a smile on his face that made me embarrassed to look at it.

  Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all.

  Cherry and Gary were back with us in ten minutes, just as Darren was really getting into one of his porn-filming anecdotes, this one involving a stepladder, a unicycle and a python. Still, it was worth the interruption to see Gary looking so happy, bless his little designer socks.

  “Cherry’s come up with the most marvellous idea,” he gushed. “Midnight blue tuxedos, just like James Bond, but with crimson bow ties, not black. Dashing and sexy. What do you think, Sweetie-Pie?”

  Darren got down from his stool and adjusted his trousers. “I think, Pumpkin, I’m going to take you home right now and ravish the fucking pants off you.”

  “But darling,” Gary cooed with a fluttery gesture. “We’re not even married yet. What will people say?”

  “They can say it to my arse, ’cos my face ain’t fucking listening. Cheers, Tom.” He grinned at Cherry. “And you can get down the market and buy yourself a hat, love, ’cos you’re coming to our wedding. No argument.”

  Cherry, bless her, just smiled and sat down next to me.

  “What the hell did you say to Gary?” I asked in amazement when the lovebirds had left.

  “Oh, I just pointed out that with Darren’s past career, there might be people—cruel, heartless people—who would say the white was wholly inappropriate, and did he really want to expose his fiancé to that sort of unkind gossip?” She smiled smugly. “I said I thought Darren was far more sensitive than people give him credit for, and Gary wouldn’t want to ruin their special day for his loved one, would he? I might also have mentioned Fantasy Island reruns, and how they were perhaps not the best source of style advice. And then I just went on about how suave Darren would look in darker colours.”

  Thank God I’d filled her in on a few details about Darren on the way over. “You’re a marvel, Sis. I owe you for that. Well, technically Gary and Darren owe you, but they’re mates, so…”

  “Don’t be silly. I just like to help.” She frowned. “Oh, and the lady at the bar asked me for my phone number. I gave it to her, obviously, but do you think it was legal advice she wanted or, well…”

  We both glanced over at Harry’s granite features. She gave us a nod that didn’t give anything away.

  “Nah,” I said. “Legal advice. Bound to be. You’re not her type.”

  Cherry still looked dubious.

  “I’ll make sure I mention you’re engaged, next time I’m in,” I promised.

  By the time we finally got back home, I don’t think either Cherry or me had a lot of enthusiasm left for clearing the spare room out. But it didn’t take too long in the end to shift a manageable amount of junk and put fresh sheets on the bed. Once we were done, I settled down on the sofa for the more important job of keeping Arthur happy while Cherry got herself settled in.

  I was just beginning to regret not having made sure the TV remote was in reach before he’d plonked his furry ton-and-a-half on my lap, when Cherry walked into the living room. Arthur’s ears twitched, but other than that, he remained unmoved by her presence. Merlin was still sulking somewhere. Bl
oody diva. “Pass us the remote, will you?” I asked with a winning smile that faded when I saw Cherry was carrying her phone.

  Cherry flushed when she saw my look. “I gave Gregory a ring,” she said, all defensive before I’d even got around to saying anything. “Just to let him know I was here. He’d be expecting me to be at home, and I didn’t want him turning up there and worrying.” She shoved her phone back in her handbag, avoiding my gaze.

  I’d paused midstroke. Arthur’s ears pricked, and he kneaded my lap with his paws, probably to remind me he had claws in there and wasn’t afraid to use them. “Right… Are you sure it was a good idea to tell anyone you’re here?”

  “Gregory’s not just anyone. You can’t possibly think he had anything to do with the poisoning.”

  “Um.”

  “Don’t be absurd. He’s a clergyman.”

  “What, and you’ve never seen one of them in the dock, in your line of work?”

  “Well, yes, but this is Gregory. He has a vocation. And he’s the gentlest man you could ever meet.”

  Oh, sod it. “Listen, there’s something I ought to tell you. I went to see Greg on my own, while you were in hospital—no, wait, it was after you’d gone to Mum and Dad’s. Whatever. Anyway…” I took a deep breath. “He took me up in that cathedral roof, and I bloody near came down the quick way. I’m not saying he tried to kill me, mind,” I said quickly as she paled. “Just, well, that’s two of us who’ve nearly died while in old Greg’s company. Bit of a coincidence, innit?”

  “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting he could have tried to hurt either of us. Why on earth would he do that?”

  “Just… How much do you really know about him? Have you met his family?”

  “He hasn’t got any close family,” Cherry said shortly. “His parents are dead.”

  That was convenient. Say, if there was the odd skeleton in your closet you didn’t want anyone to know about. “And how did you two even meet?”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I’m going to have a bath.” Cherry stormed out without even answering my question.

  Or passing me the bloody remote, either. Bloody marvellous. I tried to stretch out a socked foot far enough to reach it, but all I managed to do was nudge it off the other side of the coffee table. Meanwhile, Arthur, deciding my lap had become worryingly unstable, anchored himself more firmly by digging his claws into my legs.

  Sod it. I shovelled him off my lap, earning myself a furious yowl and a couple more puncture wounds, grabbed the remote from the floor and sat back down, flicking on the telly with a sigh of relief. There was a Mock the Week on satellite I’d only seen about half a dozen times, so I let the controlled anarchy and carefully scripted ad-libs wash over me for a bit.

  Then I remembered I’d used up the last of the milk and there’d be none for breakfast if I didn’t shift my arse out to the shops.

  Bugger it. “Cherry?” I yelled up the stairs. “Just popping out for some milk.”

  I didn’t hear an answer, so either she was sulking or she hadn’t heard me over the running water. Still, I’d only be ten minutes, tops. I shoved my feet into my trainers, pulled on a jacket, dithered over a scarf but decided not to be such a bloody wuss, checked I had a couple of quid in my pocket and opened the front door.

  And almost walked into the Terrifyingly Reverend Greg, looming there on my doorstep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Bloody fuck!” I stepped back instinctively and almost tripped over Merlin, who’d come to see what all the fuss was about.

  Greg’s devilish grin faltered a little. “Ah, Tom,” he said, as if he hadn’t expected to see me there in my own sodding house. “Cherry told me she was staying here, and I happened to be in the vicinity. May I?”

  No, I thought, you bloody well may not. Not with Cherry in the bath and me not there to protect her. How easy would it be for him to hold her down and drown her with those massive hands of his? “I was just on my way out, actually. Fancy a walk?”

  The eyebrows drew together, a couple of disapproving hairy caterpillars cosying up like grannies having a grumble. “Are you sure it’s wise to leave Cherry on her own?”

  “Positive,” I said, stepping through the door and closing it behind me. As Greg didn’t give an inch, this put us uncomfortably close together on my doormat. The height difference seemed a lot more pronounced. I wished I couldn’t vaguely remember horror movies where unspecified demonic creatures gained power and size after dark. “Shops are this way,” I said, trying to nudge him along without actually touching him.

  “Shops?”

  “Yeah. Just need to get some milk.” Weren’t there some supernatural beings that liked drinking milk? Elves, maybe? Or was I just thinking of hedgehogs?

  “Oh, of course. Lead on.” Despite his words, Greg strode off down the street towards the bright lights of Fleetville without waiting for me. I ended up scurrying along to catch up.

  “And how is your dear sister bearing up? She seemed somewhat agitated on the telephone.”

  “She’s okay.” I wondered if I’d missed obvious signs of agitation from Cherry while we were out for dinner. She’d certainly seemed okay in the restaurant and when we’d got back to mine.

  Except she’d sneaked off to call her bloke first chance she’d got. Maybe she was feeling more vulnerable than she wanted to let on. What if she got out of the bath and found herself all alone when she wasn’t expecting it? We needed to get a shift on. I scurried a bit faster and managed to jolt my hip with an unwary step. The sudden pain made me draw in a hissing breath.

  “Are you all right, Tom?” Greg loomed over me, his eyebrows quivering with concern.

  “Yeah. Fine. Just trod a bit awkward, that’s all.”

  “Is it much farther to go? Can you manage?”

  Blooming marvellous. Now I was a bloody cripple who couldn’t make it down the road without help. “It’s here,” I said shortly, opening the door to Vik’s convenience store and off licence that never seems to shut. I picked up a couple of litres of milk and some chocolate for Cherry, then decided a bottle of Merlot might be nearer the mark and grabbed that as well.

  “All right, Tom?” Vik (short for Vikram, but only his mother calls him that) rang up the total on a till so old-fashioned he actually had to put the numbers in by hand. “Cold enough for you?”

  “And then some.” I fumbled in my pocket with numb fingers, realising a bit belatedly I’d come out with literally only a couple of quid in my pocket. “Bugger. I’m a bit short, Vik, I’ll have to leave the wine.”

  “Nah, pay me tomorrow.” He grinned and cast a quick glance over my shoulder at Greg hovering behind me. “Don’t want to ruin your first evening in with the new bloke.”

  I don’t know what my face looked like, but Vik cracked up at the sight of it.

  “Right. Home,” I said firmly to a blessedly oblivious Greg.

  Cherry was still in the bath when we got back, so at least she hadn’t found herself home alone and thrown a wobbly. That was the only plus point I could see, though. It left me and Greg sitting in the living room glaring balefully at each other. Well, all right. Maybe Greg was smiling genially. Then again, he hadn’t been the one having a near-death experience last time we’d met. I offered to open the wine; Greg declined. I offered to put the kettle on; he protested he didn’t want to put me to any bother.

  I was ready to scream by the time Merlin poked his furry little nose around the door frame. Greg beamed. “Ah! You have pets.” Like he hadn’t noticed the cat hair already making pretty patterns on his smart black trousers. “Wonderful. As you know, I have a great fondness for animals.”

  Dead ones, maybe. If he came anywhere near my cats with the glint of taxidermy in his eye, we were going to have serious words. Luckily, Merlin caught him watching, spooked and voted with his paws, running out of there like he’d seen the skinning knives. Hah. My pets weren’t stupid.

  Then Arthur prowled in, gave a disdainful sniff in my directi
on and jumped straight onto Greg’s lap.

  Typical.

  There was the noise of a door opening and closing upstairs, then Cherry appeared, towel round her head and wearing my dressing gown, her face pink and shiny. “Tom, I need to borrow a—Gregory!”

  I couldn’t help smiling at her double-take. “You want to borrow him, it’s Arthur you need to speak to.”

  “I meant a hairdryer… Gregory, what are you doing here?”

  Greg stood, having picked up Arthur and deposited him carefully and without protest on the floor (no clawed legs for a man of the cloth, apparently). He went to meet her, taking her hands in an old-fashioned gesture. “I had to make sure you were all right, my dear.”

  “I’m fine, darling,” Cherry simpered. Oh God. Were they going to kiss?

  Yep.

  I tried looking away, but that just left my imagination free to run riot, which was even worse. I coughed loudly. “I’ll put the kettle on, all right?”

  I didn’t wait for an answer.

  An hour later, our cups of tea had long since been drained and Greg still hadn’t bloody gone. I yawned loudly, hoping he’d take a hint.

  Cherry glanced over. “Tom, if you want to go to bed, we won’t be offended.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” I lied.

  She smiled. “Lovely! I’ll open that bottle of wine, then.”

  We each had a glass while they carried on billing and cooing and having animated discussions over exactly which of the cathedral ladies simply had to be asked to do the flowers for their wedding, and which should, under no circumstances, be allowed to decorate.

  I nearly melted in relief when Cherry offered top-ups and Greg held a large hand over his glass. “No more for me, I’m afraid. Indeed, I should really be getting back home.”

  “Why don’t you stay here?” Cherry said. “It’s far too late for you to drive all the way back to St Leonards tonight.”

  What? “Nah, he’ll be fine,” I said quickly. “Roads’ll be empty this time of night.”

  “But they could be icy.” She topped up Greg’s glass without waiting for either of us to chip in.